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betweenstorms · 4 months ago

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Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl.

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin’ late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

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simonz-angel · 2 months ago

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❤︎ Masterlist ❤︎

simon n his sweeettt roommate - you miss your pretty lil roommate and corner him right after his shower. n from what it feels looks like… he missed you too.

pretty boy simon n his demanding girl - sweet boy simon who can’t help but kneel over and cry desperate for his girl… who’s just a touch demanding n maybe a lil ridicule.

finding your next sweet boy to corrupt - taking the virginity of the pretty heaven sent boy.

simon who fucks the life outta you - simon who fucks you till you’re a crying, squirming mess basically. 😀

silent treatment with simon - simon who goes mad after a week off your cold shoulder. so in solution, he fucks you till you have no choice to beg for his forgiveness.

simon with a cutie plushy girl who wears her glasses all shyy - sweetie simon who distract his babie studying to get between those yummy thighs.

ghost who has many techniques to stamina training - not gonna sugar coat this one… ghost who chokes you out fingers deep. 😊

sub!simon who’s into giving not receiving - subby whiny simon who eats you up on his tongue all while boutta bust.

simon and his plushy babe - when you’re hesitant to take a seat on your man’s face… yet that man NEEDS it.

messin’ round with your pretty old mannn - your grumpy old man who gets mad when you can’t just be a patient pretty girl for him.

toxic ex bf simon who sends you sweet lil vidzz - toxic ex simon who secretly begs for his babe back with a pretty vid of his hand round his cock. pt- two with a lil phone sex here!!

walking into virg roommate simon getting his fill in for the night - virgy boy simon who doesn’t realize you’re standing right behind him when he’s got his computer on jerking himself off till it’s too late.

simon who’s a patient teacher - simon who slightlyyy lets you take your time getting all those inches down the back of your throat.

simon who leaves his sweet best friend for the military - pathetic baby boy simon who’s in love with his best friend just absolutely too scared to say anything in fear, and so when he leaves for the military with only a portrait of your pretty face… he can’t help but rub one out.

subby boy simon who can’t even keep his tongue in his mouth - i feel like this kinda speaks for itself… 😇

soft love with simon - simon who can’t help but fuck you full of his pure love.

simon who gets off on your face… literally - simon who rubs his sweet cock across your even sweeter pretty face.

crying on your hubby’s cock - simon who just fucks you so good and so deep you can’t help but cry and scurry away from him even though it feels so good!!

crazy ex!bf simon - crazy crazy jealous boy simon who can’t help but fuck you so full and deep when he hears you been hang out with another man.

FLUFF with our baby boy si - just a bunch of fluffy cannons on our sweetest cutie pie simon riley.

#simonz-angel masterlist #dividers by anitalenia #cod masterlist #cod #call of duty #cod smut #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost #simon riley #ghost #smut #angst #simon riley angst #cod modern warfare #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year ago

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Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not.

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly.

You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was.

He was the best part about Las Almas.

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A…

What else?

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost.

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list.

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing.

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all.

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he?

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!”

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was.

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease.

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.”

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?”

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s.

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look.

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!”

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?”

“Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.”

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~”

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

“There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand.

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it.

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail.

“She did get hit.”

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.”

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised.

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.”

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner.

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man.

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face.

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw.

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more.

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine.

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call.

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!”

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family.

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?”

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off.

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–”

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.” “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade. “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure. What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear. “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.” Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!” The lieutenant turned around. “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.”

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost?

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did.

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?”

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon.

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile.

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back.

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it.

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life.

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was.

How fucking wrong he was.

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’

Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him.

Johnny : ‘Also’

Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’

His thumb paused right above the send key.

Fuck.

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind.

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that?

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages.

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon.

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner.

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet.

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade.

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now.

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.”

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start.

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.

“I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer.

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted.

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below.

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth.

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck.

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap.

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.”

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?”

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.”

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!”

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first.

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade.

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.”

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.”

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same.

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too? Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”.

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

"What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other.

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one.

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he.

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more.

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely.

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly.

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was.

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes.

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely.

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her.

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to.

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed.

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him.

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard.

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more.

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands.

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer.

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?"

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?"

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?"

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?"

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost.

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them.

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own.

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would put on that mask again.

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek.

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted.

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD.

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder.

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside.

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot.

It's too hot.

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right?

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again.

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder.

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy.

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself,

"Fuckin’ hell…"

Jade didn't melt his cold heart.

She set it on fire.

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him.

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it.

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.

There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked.

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

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meowmeowriley · 4 months ago

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Ghost wants a dog. He's thought about it for a while, done some research, put out feelers. He's allowed to have a dog where he live, has a house to himself not five minutes from base. Waste of space, he used to think, but space enough for a dog.

He needs a big dog. He's a big lad. When some people think "big dog" they're thinking of a German Shepherd Good dogs, he's sure. But only 40 kilos, max. He needs something bigger, he thinks.

At first, he thought he'd like himself a Rottweiler. Hefty. Big bodied and boisterous. Easily trainable if you've got the time and the grit, both he figured he had in spades, so long as he wasn't on an op. But then he read about tail docking and, well... he couldn't bring himself to think about it any more. Those poor puppies, he thinks.

He goes home with Soap, visiting the MacTavish farm. They're friends, he wants to see the sheep, he tells Soap. Tells himself. He won't admit that he just wants to spend more time with Johnny.

The MacTavish's have Border Collies to herd their sheep. Practical. Cute, he likes the pups, but much too small for him. Not to mention intelligence to rival the rookies he had to whip into shape on base and tripple their energy. He wasn't sure he'd want to deal with that.

But while out, on their way into town, he saw it. A huge dog standing amongst someone else's flock, head heald high and nose in the wind. Soap knew the farmer from his childhood, drove them up the lane when he caught Ghost staring. Due to his staring, Ghost had missed the sign they passed, though Soap didn't. 'Pyrenees puppies 4 sale' it read.

The farmer smiled when he noticed John, the boy who left the fields to play soldier and came back a man. John introduced him as Lieutenant 'Ghost' Riley. Ghost rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Simon. Saw your dog in the field, never saw one like it. Wanted to know more." A short introduction, straight to the point.

The response was the opposite. The farmer gave him what felt like his life's story. Took what seemed to Ghost to be a year before he got to telling him about the dog, a Great Pyrenees, apparently. A large bodied, heavy white coated livestock guardian breed. He had two, the one in the field was the sire, the dam was in the barn. As he spoke, he lead the two men towards that very barn.

The farmer entered first, to separate the mother from the pups, for their protection, he said. In the barn was a sight that melted the hardened Lieutenant into a puddle of goo: a litter of snow white, fluffy puppies. Huge puppies. Sticks and hay and debris were stuck all over their fluffy bodies, Simon picked out what he could from the pups as they wallered and slobbered all over him.

Soap took over speaking to the farmer as Ghost slowly accepted that he would never again have crisp black clothes. That everything in his future would be covered in white fluff. The life expectancy of his washer and dryer had just been halved, he suspected.

The farmer explained their personality: that females tended to be more protective, they'd be a home body, not exactly a jogging companion. Loyal but brutish, often misconstrued as lazy. The beast out in the field with the flock would lay about and let the sheep climb all over him, wouldn't even bother to get up if someone hopped the fence like. But if he heard a sound he didn't like, or saw another dog or a predator in the field, he'd let loose a bark that'd freeze a man's blood, and hunt the perceived threat down come hell or high water. "And you should see her in action," the farmer laughed and shook his head. "Almost killed the male over getting too close to his own pups. Protective to a fault. 'S why I had to turn her out, you see."

Ghost saw an oversized cotton ball trip over it's own feet as it tried to get to his fingers because it needed to be pet. It was the only one without any tan or grey patch. Ghost saw his future best friend.

The farmer started to explain that these pups ought to be sent off to other farms, they wouldn't do as family dogs, but John walked him out of the barn. Explained that the man they'd left behind had no family to speak of, needed something other than work to focus on, and if anyone were able to handle the instincts and behavioral issues of a livestock guardian without livestock, it'd be Simon. The farmer agreed, so long as he made sure to choose a male, for safety reasons.

The two drove off another twenty minutes later, after Simon had listened with rapt attention to the farmer detailing everything about what the pups had been through up to that point, and what he'd need to do moving forward to make sure his little guy was happy and healthy, Ghost holding young Spirit to his chest.

From that point on all of Ghost's belongings had long white fur and drool on them, courtesy of his personal polar bear.

On the day of their wedding their ring bearer was their own pseudo-bear, and nobody left the venue without drool or fur on their clothes.

#ramblings #a love letter to my own pyrenees #call of duty #modern warfare #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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adorrrin · 26 days ago

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FIRST MEET. - Simon Ghost Riley x Fem Reader short fic !!

— your husband, Simon, takes you to meet his best friend for the first time.

(divider from kodaswrld)

You laid in your husband, Simon’s arms. His hand absentmindedly running through your hair, other hand secured on your baby bump, gently caressing it.

After you had told him you were pregnant, he had been more protective than ever.

He was deep in thought, eyes focused on the ceiling. You knew that when he zoned out like this, it was because he was thinking of something serious.

“I wanna take you to see Johnny, luv.” His rough voice gruffed, eyes trailing down to meet yours.

Johnny. Simon didn’t speak much of him. You knew they worked together, but that was it. He always seems to go quiet when Johnny is brought up.

“R- Really?” You choked, wide eyes meeting his. It was a true surprise; he never spoke of the man, and now he wants to take you to see him?

“Yeah.” He whispered, slightly nodding his head. Simon had a tendency to be very…reserved. “It’s about time, I reckon.”

…

And just like that, you two were sat in the car, in silence. The radio was off; this wasn’t a time for music, Simon said.

Your hands nervously played with the ripped leather of the seat; a bad habit you had gained while being nervous. Simon didn’t mind though. Anything to ease your mind.

The drive continued on in tense silence, Simon’s hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white.

He was never good at showing his emotions, so you got better at reading him through the little things. He was sat up a little straighter than usual, his jaw was clenched, and he occasionally moved a hand to his chest to touch his dogtags.

He was nervous.

After what felt like an eternity, the car stopped. Simon got out, walked to your side and helped you out aswell. It seemed like you were in the middle of nowhere. Is this where you die?

No. Surely Simon wouldn’t do that.

His tattooed hand held your hand, starting to pull you along. You walked down a pathway, onto an open meadow, stopping by the cliff, overlooking the water.

Oh.

“Hey, Johnny.” Simon gruffed quietly, his eyes zoned into the distant sunset. “Finally brought the missus around. Sad you couldn’t actually meet her, but I know you’re up there watchin’ us.” You stayed silent, even tearing up as you watched your husband speak to his late friend.

“Even managed to knock her up.” He muttered, a chuckle-like sound following. “‘s a boy. We’re gonna name him Johnny.”

You two sat there, watching the sunset, Simon truly opening up to you. He told you everything about his and Johnny’s friendship, he told you how he passed, and everything after it. How Simon came here every week.

After the sun had finally set, Simon let out a soft sigh. “We need to get going, luv.”

“See you again next Friday, Johnny.” Simon spoke, before grabbing your hand, helping you up and beginning to lead you back to the car.

He opened his heart to you a little more today, and you’ll forever cherish that.

______________________________

Simon pushed the stroller down the dirt path, your toddler son babbling in there, playing with his pacifier.

Finally making it to the opening, he let out a sigh, “That path definitely ain’t made for strollers.” He watched the sunset with a smile again. “Johnny, meet little Johnny. Sorry we haven’t come by sooner, it’s been hectic since the birth.” Simon’s eyes were focused on little Johnny, as he took in another sharp breath. “You’ve properly met my wife now then, haven’t you?” Tears glossed his eyes as he moved his eyes to the sunset; it was more colorful than usual.

“You better keep ‘er company until I get there. But not too much, eh? She’s still my bloody wife, even if she’s up there now.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #fanfic #angst #one shot #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod mw3

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penelopepine · 6 months ago

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Mother Knows Best!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish

Summary: Soap's mom trying to set Ghoap up with Reader! She loves Reader and she's going to make her a part of her family! Content: fluff Word Count: 1012

You had started working in Mrs. MacTavish's bakery a few months ago. She was a kind older woman who had welcomed you with open arms when you first started. Her two daughters were just as kind as well.

They had come in one day, just checking in on their mom, and the rest was history after that. The three of you quickly became thick as thieves. After spending so much time with Mrs. MacTavish’s family they honestly felt like your own now; the only member you have yet to meet was her son, John.

If only you had known what Mrs. MacTavish had planned for when you did. She brought you into her family, and what better way to make that official than by having you date her son. The son who was already in a long term committed relationship with his lieutenant. That was just a two for one deal for you in her eyes.

The day Johnny came into the shop it had been a surprise for everyone. He hadn’t told anyone that he was arriving home early. When he first stepped into the bakery he was expecting to see his mum, but instead saw you working behind the counter. He remembers her mentioning getting a new worker at the shop.

“Hello, lass! You must be the one who has captured my mum’s heart! Anyone who can do that might as well be family; feel free to call me Johnny.” He introduced himself to you with a wink. “Speaking of my mum, is she in right now?”

You're shocked for a second upon a stranger coming in and introducing himself to you. Regaining your composure though you quickly introduce yourself to himself as well; excited to finally be meeting the son you’ve heard so much about. “Oh, yes! She’s back in the office right now, and I’ve heard my fair share of stories about you as well.”

“All good things I hope. Would hate it if she gave a bad first impression.”

“Don’t you worry I’ve only heard the best!” You two bantered with one another before Johnny steps away and makes his way towards the office.

He knocks on the door, and waits until he hears his mum’s muffled voice come from the other side, “Come in!”

Without waiting for another second he throws the door open, and there sitting at the small desk is his mum. Standing in the doorway he basks in the surprised and excited shrieks when she realizes that it's him.

"Oh, Johnny! Come in come in! Let me see you." She calls him further in as she stands up herself with open arms. She holds him tight when she finally gets her arms around him. Johnny knows she's probably feeling a bit overwhelmed right now, and lets her hold him as long as she needs. "I've missed you so much!"

"It's good to see you again mum." He whispers into her hair, "I've missed you too."

She pulls away and her eyes have a glossy sheen to him as she urges him to sit down in one of the chairs alongside her. Once there she asks him about Simon, and tells him what's been happening while he's been away.

They continue to talk and catch up with one another before his mum asks him about you, "So … what do you think of her? She's cute isn't she!"

Johnny couldn't deny that you were rather pretty; if he wasn't currently in a relationship he would have been all over you. He didn't know why his mum was asking him that though. "Yeah, she's cute. Why? Are you planning on playing matchmaker again? Which one of your friend's sons are you thinking about for her?"

"Actually I think you should ask her out; I think she'd be good for you."

"Mum! You know I'm with Simon!" Johnny's voice rising with anger at the thought of his mum wanting him to leave his partner.

"She'd be good for him too!" She quickly reassured him, “I can see it now. The three of you living life to the fullest with one another.”

Johnny feels absolutely shell shocked right now; unsure of how to really respond even, "Wait? You want me and Simon to date her?"

"Exactly!" She exclaims, "She'd be perfect for the two of you!"

"Mum-"

She interrupts before he can continue though, "Just talk to her! If you don't like her like that, or if you and Simon don't want that kind of relationship then I won't mention it again. I promise!"

"Fine, fine I'll talk to her," He agrees, "only because she's working for you though, and I need to make sure she's not a troublemaker."

"Of course! You should do that now then." She stands up and ushers him out of the office, and shuts the door behind him. Johnny is left standing there mouth agape as he stares at the office door.

After coming to terms with what just happened he turns and makes his way back to the front of the bakery. He didn't go to talk to you with any romantic intentions, but it seems his mum really does know him too well. Not that he’s going to complain about it right now; not when it seems there honestly could be something romantic here.

He ends up staying for the rest of your shift talking and helping you with the customers, and afterwards he finds himself calling Simon. Telling him all about the bonnie lass that really is perfect for them. All he needs to do is meet her to find out for himself to see that it’s true.

If after that Simon ends up in town as well as coming to the bakery who can really say why. It's also a coincidence that the three of you are seen out at a pub together just a couple days later.

Mrs. MacTavish is very pleased with herself when you, Johnny, and Simon are then coming to her and informing her that you are now a part of their lovely relationship.

Taglist: @zarsghost

#x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #fem reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #ghost x reader x soap #fluff

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair.

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass.

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut.

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says.

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster.

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door.

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus.

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from.

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment.

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms.

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis.

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors.

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key.

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans.

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel.

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear.

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his.

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fic #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2

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oskea93 · 6 months ago

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Kansas Anymore (2)

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, suggested smut, fluff. ✶ Chapter One ✶

■ Italics = Flashback ■ A/N: You guys are amazing! I just want to say thank you so much for loving this story and follwing the tale of Riley and Tyler ❤️ ■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can't wait to hear from y'all

TL: @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592, @djs8891, @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

“You know when you said that we were going to a show, I didn’t expect it to involve horses and mud.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, my heels sinking into the soggy ground with each step. I had been in Arkansas for less than a month – choosing to attend the college that my father spoke so highly of growing up. As each day passed, it was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to pack all my things and head back home.

My roommate Sarah, who had grown up in the area, laughed as she turned to face me. "Welcome to the South! This is what we call a rodeo. Trust me, you'll have fun."

I glanced around at the bustling fairground. Families gathered around food stalls, the smell of popcorn and barbecue hanging in the air. Children ran past us, their boots splashing in puddles, their laughter ringing out above the distant sounds of country music. Cowboys in worn jeans and hats moved with purpose, leading majestic horses by the reins.

"Fun, huh?" I muttered, trying to pull my heel out of yet another patch of mud. "It looks like a real blast.” Sarah grinned and tugged at my arm, leading me toward the main arena. "Oh, come on! You haven't even seen the best parts yet. The bull riding, barrel racing, and don't forget the rodeo clowns. They’re hilarious!"

As we walked, I noticed the vibrant colors of the stands selling cowboy hats, boots, and all sorts of Western memorabilia. There was an infectious energy in the air. People greeted each other with wide smiles and friendly nods, embodying the warmth of Southern hospitality that Sarah had talked about.

We passed a group of teenagers gathered around a mechanical bull. They cheered each other on, daring one another to take a ride. Sarah nudged me, "Think you could last eight seconds on that thing?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No way! I'd be thrown off in a heartbeat."

A mischievous smirk broke across her face. “Never know till you try.” I rolled my eyes and started to walk away, but her grip on my arm stopped me. “Just once.” Her eyes widened with a playful challenge. “Have a little fun, Riley.”

My eyes glanced between her and the machinery behind her, taking in the sight as a teenage boy was thrown from the contraption, his friends commending his effort with hoots and hollers. The boy, though dusting himself off, wore a wide grin as he rejoined his group, their camaraderie infectious.

I sighed, feeling a mix of reluctance and curiosity. “I’m not wearing the right clothes for that thing,” I said, the excuse as flimsy as it sounded. “Plus, I could break a bone or som—”

“You riding or not, darlin’?” came a loud voice from behind me.

Sarah’s eyes shifted to the voice, and I turned to meet the face of the commenter. He was a tall fucker – had to be over six foot with an overinflated ego. His boots were dusty, and his hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I could still see the arrogance etched in his smirk. “Excuse me?” I replied, my tone a bit harsher than intended.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning casually against the gate. “You gonna give it a go or just stand there making excuses?” His cocky smile shone bright, and I could practically taste the mockery in his voice. “Too scared you're gonna break a nail?”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, not out of embarrassment but anger. I clenched my fists and took a step forward, feeling the rough texture of the ground beneath my boots. “Listen, cowboy,” I said, my voice steady despite the irritation bubbling inside. “I’m not here to play games or prove anything to you.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably beside me, her eyes darting between us. I could sense her unease, but I wasn’t about to back down. The man’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was stoking.

“Prove something to me?” he chuckled, pushing off the gate and taking a step closer. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to prove anything to me.” His eyes slowly moved up my body, lingering in a way that made my skin flush. “Just to yourself.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk centered on his chiseled face. Clearly, he thought he had me all figured out.

I turned back to Sarah, her eyes showing concern as I handed off my purse and coat. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley.” Her tone shadowed her eyes. “Tyler’s just being an asshole. He’s like that with all the girls in town—” She paused shortly. “You’re just the only one who’s ever talked to him like that.”

“Let’s see what you got, city girl!” The Tyler guy hooped, causing those close enough to center their attention on the situation.

Rolling my eyes, I hastily removed my purse, pushing the bag into Sarah’s arms. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley,” Sarah's voice now hesitant as she looked at me with concern. “We can just go somewhere else and have fun, forget about that guy.”

I shook my head in protest, my resolve hardening as I cast one last glance at the idiot across the room. His smirk fueled my determination. “No way. I’m not gonna give that jerkoff the satisfaction of watching me wuss out,” I declared, my voice tinged with defiance.

As I pushed up the sleeves of my designer shirt, a small act of rebellion that would have my mother clutching her inherited pearls in horror, I felt a surge of adrenaline. This was my moment to show that I was not someone to be pushed around, not someone to be intimidated by an urban cowboy fool at a fucking rodeo.

I confidently approached the bull, climbing onto the steel, gripping the handle with white-knuckled determination.

"Hold on tight, darlin," the elderly operator smiled warmly, his weathered face lined with experience and mischief. With a practiced hand, he flipped the switch, setting the mechanical bull into motion.

As the bull lurched forward, the world around me seemed to blur into a whirlwind of colors and sounds. The contraption bucked and spun with unpredictable ferocity, testing every ounce of my balance and resolve. I clenched the reins tightly, my muscles straining as I fought to stay atop the bucking beast. Sarah’s cheers blended with the roar of the crowd, a chorus of encouragement that spurred me on.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, my focus narrowing to the rhythmic movements of the mechanical beast. Just as I started to think I might actually last the full eight seconds, the bull gave a particularly violent twist, sending me flying into the padded arena.

I let out a groan of both relief and exhaustion, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away as I managed to flip myself onto my back. As I lay there, breathing heavily, the cool night sky spread out above me like a vast, dark canvas adorned with twinkling stars.

Sarah's figure quickly loomed over me, her expression a mix of concern and relief etched across her features. With a swift movement, she crouched down beside me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe as if checking for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry and care as she assessed my well-being.

I slowly nodded my head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I think so," I replied, my sentence trailing off momentarily as I gathered my thoughts. "Was that okay?" I inquired, seeking reassurance after the whirlwind of the mechanical bull ride.

Sarah's expression shifted from slight confusion at my question to a mischievous smile that lit up her face. "Are you kidding me, Riley?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pride and excitement. "That was more than okay. You had Tyler Owens, the reigning rodeo champion, dropping his jaw so far to the ground that he's gonna need some help putting it back in place."

We shared a laugh as she helped me off the mat, my black slacks now dotted with dust and dirt.

"You did good, little girl," the older man remarked with a warm smile as we exited the gates of the rodeo arena. I shyly thanked him, feeling a surge of pride at his encouraging words, but my smile quickly faded as a tall stranger approached us, his hands casually tucked into his denim pockets.

"Wasn't expecting you to last a second, city girl," he remarked with a smirk that seemed to gleam in the dim light of the night. "Gotta hand it to you though, you make riding a bull look easy."

I met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, my own smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, well," I retorted, taking a step closer to him, the adrenaline of the ride still coursing through my veins. "It's all in the hips, really."

My words hung in the air between us, a playful challenge laced with a hint of confidence. “Is that right?” His voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. “Gonna have to teach me your ways then.”

A flicker of a smile danced across my lips, “Me teach you-“ I took a step back. “From what I hear you’re a world-renowned bull rider, probably the best in the county, maybe even the state.” My words boosting his overstrung ego. “I’m sure a bull made of steel is no match for-“ I paused, tilting my head. “What’s your name again?”

“You know my name, darlin.” His words igniting a burn in my stomach.

He arched an eyebrow as I drew near, clearly taken aback by my sudden boldness. His cronies and Sarah exchanged glances, unsure of what was unfolding before them. I could almost taste the tension in the air, thick and crackling with anticipation.

Without a word, I stood before him, my gaze unwavering. The hint of a smirk played on his lips, a challenge in his eyes. But I held my ground, a silent defiance radiating from every fiber of my being. My hand slowly trailing up his flannel covered front, his breath hitching with each touch.

In one swift motion, I reached out and plucked the Stetson hat from his head, the symbol of his false bravado. Placing the hat atop my head, my smile smug as I looked up at him, almost daring him to take it back.

“You shouldn’t let strangers get too close to you, Tyler Owens,” I remarked coolly, the gravel crunching under my heels as I took a step back. “That’s a lesson us city girls learn at a young age.”

10:54am (2.21 hrs since arrival)

“I can’t believe it's been over a year since we’ve seen you and the little bean,” Lilly smiled warmly over her coffee cup, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and longing. “I mean, we get to talk to her on video chat, but it’s just not the same.”

I nodded in agreement, a tinge of guilt flickering in my chest. “Yeah, work has been so hectic, and I never know where you guys are gonna be, especially during the season. Tyler’s like a butterfly – floating wherever the wind blows.”

Lilly chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of understanding. “I know he misses her a lot –” Her sentence paused, a moment of hesitation flitting across her features. “Misses you a lot too.” Her gaze met mine, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and unspoken truths. “He still has that picture of the two of you nestled in his visor.”

The photograph that Lilly had taken two weeks after I found out I was pregnant with Caroline. The storm clouds black as night loomed behind us, a stark contrast to the brightness of our smiles that shone as radiant as the sun in the sky.

Tyler had insisted on capturing the moment, his easy laugh filling the air as he playfully teased about becoming parents. Despite the uncertainty and fear that lingered in the depths of my heart, his unwavering support and infectious optimism had been a beacon of light in the midst of the looming storm.

The diner's door suddenly swung open, and in walked Boone, a towering figure with my four-year-old daughter, Caroline, perched high on his shoulders. "Here she comes, Ms. America!" Boone's southern twang echoed through the small space, causing a few of the older folks to turn their heads in mild disapproval. Caroline's infectious giggle, so reminiscent of her father's, rang out as she played along with the theatrics, her smile radiant as ever.

I watched as the two of them made their way through the diner, drawing smiles and curious glances from the other patrons. Caroline's tiny hand waved enthusiastically at the strangers, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Boone, ever the playful uncle, hammed it up for her, making exaggerated gestures and funny faces that elicited peals of laughter from the little girl perched on his shoulders.

As Boone approached our table, I made space for him in the booth, eagerly awaiting Caroline's arrival. Her tiny hands reached out for me as I gently lifted her off his shoulders, her eyes alight with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy said I could go with him and Uncle Booney when the 'nado comes," she announced proudly. "Daddy said there's gonna be one real soon."

My eyes immediately darted to where Boone still stood, his gaze evading mine as he focused intently on the intricate pattern of the floor tiles. "No," I said firmly, my hand instinctively reaching out to gently grasp Caroline's pigtailed braid. "Sweetheart, it's far too dangerous to go with Daddy and Uncle Boone. You need to stay here with me where it's safe."

Caroline's face began to crumple into a disappointed pout, her lower lip trembling slightly. Her eyes, usually bright with curiosity and mischief, now filled with a mixture of defiance and longing. "No, Mommy," she protested, her voice rising in a blend of frustration and determination. "I want to go with Daddy!"

Her attitude shifted suddenly, like a fault line in an earthquake, her small arms crossing over her chest in a display of stubborn defiance. The tension in the room seemed to thicken as her words hung in the air, charged with the raw energy of a child's unwavering will.

I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My eyes flicked over to Lilly, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

"Caroline, I'm not having this argument with you," I said firmly, my voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. The tears that had been threatening to spill over now glistened in Caroline's wide green eyes, her lower lip quivering with unshed emotion.

"You're not going, and that's final," I stated, my tone leaving no room for further negotiation. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of my words, the tension between us palpable.

Caroline's shoulders slumped in defeat, her small form trembling with suppressed emotion. A single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek in a silent testament to her disappointment.

Lilly sat forward, her presence a comforting anchor. "Caroline, honey, Mommy is just trying to keep you safe. Sometimes we have to trust that the grown-ups know what's best for us, even when it's hard to understand."

“But you go with daddy to the nados.” Caroline's matter-of-fact statement catching Lilly off guard, her surprise evident in the way her brow furrowed slightly.

"Well," Lilly began, her voice gentle yet tinged with a sense of hesitation. "It's my job to go with your dad and help with the tornadoes. But if my mom told me not to, then I would listen to her and stay behind." Lilly and I shared a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

We both knew her words were a facade, a carefully constructed lie meant to shield Caroline from the harsh realities of the world. Lilly's mother's disapproval of her association with Tyler and the gang was no secret, a source of tension that simmered beneath the surface of their relationship.

The chimes above the door sounded again as Tyler stepped across the threshold. His smile on display as he greeted those in the restaurant, sparking a conversation with the random patrons. “Daddy!” Caroline quickly stood on the booth’s seat, her arms waving in the air to get Tyler’s attention.

Tyler waved goodbye to his admirers, his smile growing even wider as he approached our booth. As he drew closer, I could already anticipate the first thing that would escape Caroline's lips—the reminder of how I had told her she couldn't go with him on a chase, a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from me.

"Hey there, sweet pea," Tyler greeted Caroline, his voice brimming with affection as he stepped behind the booth. Caroline's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he lifted her out of the seat with practiced ease. "Have you gotten something to eat yet?"

Caroline nestled her head against Tyler's shoulder, her small frame shaking with soft sniffles. Concern etched across his face, Tyler gently pressed, "What's wrong, baby?" He reached up to wipe away a stray tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"Mommy won't let me go with you and Uncle Booney for the nado chase," Caroline whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of disappointment and longing.

Tyler's gaze, the same shade of green as Caroline, locked onto mine with a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's the deal, Riley?" he inquired, his voice gentle but probing.

My face betrayed my emotions before I could even formulate a response. A wave of unease and protectiveness washed over me as I struggled to find the right words to convey my concerns.

"The deal, Tyler, is that she's just a baby," I began, my voice tinged with a blend of firmness and vulnerability. "She doesn't need to be out in the truck, spinning around in a tornado. It's not safe for you and the guys, and it's definitely not safe for a 4-year-old child."

"I'm not a baby, mommy!" Caroline quipped, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and determination, catching me off guard.

My eyebrows raised in surprise at her unexpected retort. "Well, you're my baby, little girl, and like I said, it’s too dangerous to be out there with daddy. Maybe when you're a little older – say twenty –“

“Twenty!” Tyler exclaimed. “You can’t have her living in a bubble all her life, Riley.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as my jaw slacked in immediate anger, my eyes narrowing as Tyler stared back at me. "Excuse me?" I retorted; my voice edged with frustration. "Like you have any control of that, since I'm the primary parent here and you're just someone who comes and goes like the fucking wind you chase!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed as Boone and Lilly stepped forward, "Hey, little bean—" Lilly approached Tyler and Caroline, who was actually crying at this point. My frustration with Tyler causing me to forget that she was right in front of me in his arms.

"Why don’t you come with us and help us sell some t-shirts?" Lilly suggested, her warm smile aimed at Caroline, who sniffled and wiped away her tears.

Boone stepped lightly behind me, his easygoing demeanor a calming presence. "Yeah, who's gonna turn down an adorable kid?" he added with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

I hastily ran a hand through my hair as Caroline climbed into Lilly's arms, her giggles filling the room and momentarily easing the tension. Tyler's face remained stoic as he sent glares my way, the unspoken emotions between us hanging heavy in the air.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, I met his eyes with a mix of defiance and weariness. The complexities of our relationship, the unresolved issues simmering beneath the surface, were laid bare in that moment of silent confrontation.

Tyler's voice was low and filled with hurt as he spoke, "That was a really shitty thing to do, Riley. To bring that up in front of Caroline – make me look like a bad dad. Real nice."

I lowered my head in frustration as Tyler stormed past me, his steps purposeful and heavy. The hushed whispers of those around us mingled with the clinking of cutlery, casting a spotlight on our tense exchange. With a heavy sigh, I gathered my composure, steeling myself against the onslaught of prying eyes and whispered conversations. The weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, a reminder of the fragility of our private struggles in a very public setting.

#tyler owens #tyler owens smut #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #twisters movie #twisters #glen powell imagine #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fluff #glen powell smut #glen powell x reader #Spotify

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dutiful-wildcraft · 2 months ago

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Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with some omegeverse splashed in!

Meet the Town!

John Soap Mactavish - Clean and green, with a scent like shortbread and rose, you can see how the wiley alpha Soap got his nickname. Soap runs the neighboring livestock farm. Soap specializes in critters big and small, from velvety eared rabbits to towering horses. He prides himself in his work, and his animals usually run best in show for the town's yearly festivals. When not at the farm, Soap can be seen chatting it up at the blacksmith's or having an evening pint at the inn. With a friendly smile and sunkissed skin, could Soap be your first friend??

John Price. Or rather Captain, formerly. John is an alpha that once ran the town's mines with a tight efficiency. Slaying the monsters therein and emerging with jewels and ores a plenty. Since the town's devastating earthquake the mines have since been closed. John stubbornly remains, clearing the mines on his own. Though his ink and coffee scent permeates the artifacts wing of the local museum, a responsibility he shares with Alex. John is considered an expert in monsters and hidden treasures. During down time John is down at the docks with Farah and Nik.

Simon Ghost Riley. Formerly Price's right hand in the mines, and now the town's blacksmith, Ghost stands tall and aloof. Pale arms lined with scars, and soot stained fingertips. Some say his room is lined with awards for his craft. Ghost can make anything, and is responsible for a lot of specialty items for the whole village, special swords and crossbows for Price. Stronger tools and equipment for Gaz. He doesn't say much to you when you show up, and you assume the mask is to protect his face, though he never takes it off. What's more odd is the syrupy sweet scent buried under all the brimstone.

Kyle Gaz Garrick. Kyle is a master of his craft and does the bulk of the repairs and renovations around the village. (As well as some of its more charming cosmetics) With the help of Ghost and Price, Gaz is slowly but surely piecing the town back together after the earthquake. Kyle is renown in town for his delicate work and eye for detail. Despite popular beliefs Kyle is a calm and laid back Alpha, with a fresh and citrusy scent that's almost hypnotic. Kyle is one of the first to come to the new farm, providing a few extra tools he had laying around to help you get started. He's ecstatic to have a new face around town!

Nikolai? Nobody seems to know his last name, but he seems to be well liked in town. Nikolai was once a traveling merchant, never staying in one place for too long. He made his way by selling rare and unique wares. Since the earthquake the alpha has settled in town on a more permanent basis. Nik now runs a beautifully crafted bathhouse so those hard workers of the village can rest their weary bones, while still having a handful of new and rare items to sell each week. There seems to be more to the alpha that meets the eye.

Kate Laswell. Kate is the town physician. A no nonsense beta who is chronically scraping townsfolk off the ground when they fail to take care of themselves properly. She's lovely, but so very tired. When Kate isn't at the clinic she assists her wife with running the inn.

Farah is a fisherman extraordinaire, and has been a godsend with getting supplies in and out of the village while the bridges were out. While Farah doesn't brag, tales of her adventures are written on the scars on her toned tanned arms. While goods and services aren't her day to day now, Farah still heads out on her boat each day with Alex in tow.

Alex is responsible for a bulk of the collections at the museum, and when he's not there, he helps Farah out on the docks. In his downtime Alex writes stories down on the well worn pages of his journal. Harrowing tales of a strong and fearless pirate who saves the day again and again. So what if the long braided heroin resembles someone familiar?

(Not sure how deep in the weeds i'll go with this, but I'm having fun, I would love to make it a little series)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john price #task force 141 #nikolai cod #farm sim au #wildcraft writing #farah karim #alex keller #kate laswell #Life's Sweet Bells

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 1 year ago

Text

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk.

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate?

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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