#off-putting!simon riley

[machveil]

Off-Putting!Simon Riley with a Reader that matches his freak

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that stares at you like you’re a figment of his imagination. you’re poking around in the kitchen making a quick lunch while Simon’s cleaning dishes— well, he was. he paused when he felt the urge to look at you. he’s been lazily rinsing the same dish for two minutes, looking at you through his pale eyelashes as you quietly move about. he snaps out of it a minute later, your back is to him, but you’ve felt his eyes on you the whole time, “You can keep looking, Simon, just turn the faucet off.”

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that holds you a little too tight. his touch is always loving, but once in a while his blunt nails dig into your skin. small red marks from his fingers pads gripping the fat of your hips around the house left in his wake. in public he’ll do the same, no regard for how it might look to others, his eyes are solely on you. and, oh, Simon adores when you’re affectionately rough with him. he’s taken to wearing t-shirts around you, faded teeth indents littering his biceps from when you’ve felt the need to nip and gnaw at him

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that follows you around the grocery store, he’s been keeping a small distance - idly following you while passersby glance at him. you like it when he shadows you, standing at the edge of the aisle you’re in. he only comes up to you when a man approaches, the poor guy telling you he there’s some ‘strange man’ stalking you through the store. Simon’s suddenly beside you, dark eyes glaring at him as you smile, “Oh— thanks, this is my husband.”, you laugh, smitten when you look up at your Simon

[crsssie]

class cancelled. see you online - professor!simon riley x professor!reader

In the early years when he first started, Simon didn't cancel class. It was kind of well known at that point. He'd rather spend the class chattering about his wife than cancel class, so imagine everyone's surprise when he sent out the collective email detailing that he was canceling class because his wife was in labor.

What.

He sent them the slides for the day and a previous recording from a while back, letting them know that class on Thursday would be on zoom — a link that he will post onto the class canvas eventually.

He signs off the email with a photo of the baby locked by a password hidden in the slides, and he replies to everyone's congratulations once you're back in the home. He ends up staying back to teach the rest of the term from home because he was taking care of the baby

It was something briefly mentioned on his rate my professor, detailing how Professor Riley had "Moved the rest of our semester online because he wanted to stay home and take care of his wife. How did the school allow this?" and "I for one loved the online classes and congrats to him for finally being a father — 5/5 for my semester tbh" but truth was while the rate my professors ratted him out, his students didn't mention that class was moved online at the time.

So, when he lets his class know that he'll be out for a couple of weeks and moving class online, everyone sends in their congratulations early, earning a furrow of his brows and a laugh from your lips as he reads his emails to you.

"They really read their RMP reviews huh?"

"Sure did. I didn't even mention it this time. I barely talk about our daughter." He hums, hand on your bump as the second kicks at it.

"Well, I think I walked in once or twice." You hum. "Besides, they like it online."

"I do too." He mumbles, pinching at his daughter's cheeks as she giggles. "But most people don't pick up enough when you teach online."

"That's true." You take the berry from your daughter's hand as she hands one to you and presses another to Simon's lips.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

She nods, eyes glued back onto the screen as you glance at the recent check-up results.

"You bet Johnny's gonna cancel class too?"

"Heard he already told his students."

"Crazy."

[yi3248]

do they go honk shu or honk mimimi or does soap's chest go honk honk like a clown's nose if you squeeze it

@youredyingthatsallthereis kirby caps soapghostroach has arrived‼️

[s0fter-sin]

soap and ghost, after months of flirting, of having each other’s backs and saving each other’s lives, of knowing the other better than they know themselves, finally getting together

ghost letting himself free fall onto the bed, soap following, always following his lead. they barely pull apart enough to get their shirts over their heads, hands running over muscles and scars and holding close

soap kisses every new scar that’s revealed to him, from the thick keloid divot over his ribs from some kind of puncture to the innumerable slashes and stitch wounds holding his torso together until he’s mouthing over his collarbones; the tips of his fingers lightly caressing the edges of his mask

ghost who’s been so quiet, so overwhelmed by soap’s touch that all he can do is sink into him, panting gasping breaths, finally pushes out, “don’t ask me. please…”

soap freezes, mouth hovering over his skin. “ghost…?”

ghost’s face is tilted away, eyes held so tightly shut they tremor while the rest of his body stays lax beneath his. desperate. resigned. “please don’t ask me, johnny.”

soap lets his hand fall from the mask, coming to run soothing circles over his clothed hip. “why?”

“because i’ll say yes,” he confesses and it’s great and terrible; a warning and a relinquishment laid at soap’s feet. “i’ll always say yes to you.”

for a long moment, there’s nothing but their shared breaths, nothing but their hearts beating for the other. until soap finally leans down to press a kiss to the corner of his hidden mouth; his lips meeting faint raised scar tissue he might never see

“i’ll never ask.”

ghost’s eyes drift open and they catch on soap’s; on a sea of promise and fierce protection

“i swear… i’ll never ask, ghost.”

[the-raindeer-king]

Rings I think the 141 would marry you with 💍 (I got the reference pictures off Pinterest. Don't come at me please.)

John Price is giving you a family heirloom. It's been in his family for forever, and it's passed down to the eldest child. And he's so glad to finally be able to use it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is giving you one of these pretty ring sets. The kind that all stack together. He gives you part of it as your engagement ring, and you get the final pieces during your wedding ceremony.

John "Soap" MacTavish is getting you a matching set. He's so proud to be your husband, and he wants the world to know it. So of course his wedding band matches your wedding ring. And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is giving you something small and dainty. As much as he'd love to put a rock on your finger, he can't afford the risk. He wants you to be able to have plausible deniability, in case work follows him home.

[ghcstao3]

obviously there’s no way of telling when soap is standing far across from ghost when he pulls off his mask in las almas, when the lighting is dim and shadows fall over simon’s face.

but it’s all too easy to tell when soap finally gets his chance up close, when ghost finally decides to fully trust soap with such a vulnerability as taking off his mask.

it takes a moment for soap to notice the little divots of scarring, but when he does—

“you had your eyebrow pierced?”

ghost blinks, obviously caught off guard. “maybe.”

“and—“ soap squints. “—your nose? and on your lip, is that—“

“i’m going to put the mask back on.” ghost begins to not-so subtly lean away.

“no, wait, simon, i just—“

he moves too fast for soap to stop him, and no matter how much soap pouts afterwards, ghost doesn’t so much as budge.

so much for earning that trust.

[livecrow]

Been fixating on a scenario where someone unmasks Ghost while he incapacitated and the 141 takes it extremely personally.

Except said someone is you. 

So Ghost pays you back in full. You’re not going to like how he interprets “an eye for an eye”.

He'd immediately know something was wrong when he came around.

The eye openings of the skull and balaclava are slightly askew. Just too far off to one side, so now there's an annoying tickle where one of his outer lashes snags on the mask’s material. The neck opening is untucked, leaving a tiny sliver of skin peaking through.

Ghost is not happy.

John, Soap, and Gaz would be equally incensed, offended over the slight on their Lieutenant. Taking advantage while a man’s down? It's completely dishonorable, it's bad form. Captain's mind is immediately made up on the matter, filled with a steely resolve.

Even if the damage was already done, it’ll be a cold day in hell before you'd get away with it without repercussions. That's a promise. Gaz and Soap are both eager accomplices in John’s personal assignment. Soap is practically spittin’ he’s champing at the bit, English even more incompressible than usual.

They'd do what any good mate would. Bring the bastard in and hand him off to Ghost for some tender loving care. All “off the books”, of course.

John’s not exactly going to be getting any thank-you cards from his Lieutenant in the meantime. He’d keep him in the dark, practically locked-down on base while Laswell assesses the damage. It’s for his own good, so he’ll just have to bear it for now. But John’s sympathetic, knows how it feels to have to sit on your hands, idle. Ghost is caught in limbo, nothing much to do but seethe and muse about having a little chat with you.

Maybe he'd start off with the hands first, there are so many fine bones there, so many nerve-endings. It'd be fittin' since you can't keep your grubby 'ands to y’rself. He'd make you regret not just shootin’ 'im and being done with it.

Obviously no one else at base knew anything happened—but the shift in the air was palpable. Fortunately, even the greenest recruits had enough of a sense of self preservation to steer clear of the Lieutenant.

There's not just anger, though. John shrewd enough to see it. Simon would never admit it, hell, he might not even be conscious of it, but the whole experience has left him feeling violated. Hardly more than a handful or seconds of vulnerably, is all it took.

Ghost would be bracing himself for the worst, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If his face isn't circulating already, it will be soon. Maybe they're holding out for an auction, might as well cash in. A lot of people would pay good money for the identity of 141's infamous second-in-command. There’s a chance they’d come directly to them first, try to shake the 141 down in exchange for not releasing the photos.

Laswell wouldn’t waste any time, ever since the initial incident she’d have feelers out for news—for anything even tangentially related to Ghost or the 141. But it's been a week and there's absolutely nothing.

She also throws every resource at her disposal to locating you. The recon would take some doing, but she eventually she’d get a good lead. John knew Laswell would deliver, is reliable.

Let's just say, you would not at all be what they expected. It’d leave John with more questions than anything else, but he would deny being relieved. He might almost feel sorry for you, the dumb chit. Almost.

But actions have consequences and there's no un-ringing this bell.

Eh, if he knows Simon, in the end you'll be fine—relatively speaking. Not that he'd ever give you that solace. No, he’s not ashamed to say he’ll like watching you squirm. It'd be a pretty sight.

Soap and Gaz were even more taken off-guard.

Gaz just lets out of a low whistle, brows rising high on his forehead.

"Shite. Dinnae ‘ow we missed her—", Soap’s eyes raked the screen.

"—there's a lot tae miss." He couldn't stop himself from laughing before adding,

"Aye, this'll be a skoosh."

"...a what?"

Soap was right, the whole mission would go off without a hitch. It’d be nearly anticlimactic.

You were a proper softie, any fight you put up while being shocked awake and tripping over your own bedding was so pitiful it’s endearing. Naturally, they were in and out in 2 minutes with practiced precision. But all the same, Gaz and Soap were eager to give you a good fright.

John would make sure to keep them in line. He'd make it clear from the jump that he’d only made allowance for some light manhandling of the bird. They'd not be taking any liberties. He'd leave that to Ghost's discretion.

It was a clean pick-up. You were plucked and bagged "to-go" without much fuss. Proper delivery drivers they were, brought you back to base in 30 minutes or less.

Laswell would be waiting in the wings, of course. Immediately following the departure, her people scour your flat. No stone was left unturned, every belonging you owned was gone through, systematically. Anything and everything capable of holding an electrical charge would be seized and forensically analyzed.

She confirmed what she already expected. You were no terrorist asset, had no connections to any unscrupulous business. No, you were some civilian who's biggest crime, Laswell estimated, was impulse control. That and film piracy. Still, she’d personally double and triple check the findings before finally giving John the go ahead. Ghost was completely in the clear.

It’d feel like whiplash, the relief  would be almost dizzying. But even if any anxiety threat had dissipated, the anger was very much still there. Ghost is flooded with resentment for having any of it foisted on him by some nameless civvie.

Ghost was eerily still as he stared at you. You were a sight. You're underdressed, disheveled, frozen and wide-eyed, squeezed into a chair with several improvised polyester ratchet straps. The wide neon bands cut into the ample flesh meanly. Admittedly, it was probably excessive just to contain one fat bird, but no one can ever claim the lads don't take their job seriously.

The several seconds of quiet must have felt excruciatingly long for you. Gaz and Soap would share knowing grins where they were posted up off to the side, reclining against the wall.

Any surprise Ghost felt was completely hidden, his eyes drifted back to John.

"She’s all yours," John husked, ambling around you. "Your loose end", answering the unasked question.

You’d flinch, head snapping between the two, desperately trying to keep eyes on the Captain before he disappeared over your shoulder, pulling fruitlessly at the restraints before your wild eyes darted back to Ghost.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Unbidden, any previous machinations started to reform in his mind.

He's really going to enjoy this.

[whorangi1104]

CoD incorrect quotes

Gaz: uh... You need a hand there?

Soap buried next to a tree looking like a lost head: I'm fine.

Gaz: how did this happen?

Soap: LT said the plant I was carrying around wasn't replenishing enough of the oxygen I'm wasting.

Ghost: it's still not working.

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2: Take a Trip Down The Lane, Chapter 3,

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, Zombies, Zombie Death, mentions of family death

August ish, 2023. Time??? Location: outskirts of Navasota, Texas.

“Gaz, you almost got it fixed, yeah?” The voice calls out making Gaz jolt. Too lost in his world to realize that his Captain was peering over his shoulder. Gaz has been working on it since Soap managed to nab it back when they were passing College Station. Soap got a massive earful from Ghost and Price considering he almost become zombie fodder.

“Aye, sir, almost got it.” It’s been driving Gaz mad for the last couple of days. The man has nearly lost his patience on it more times than he can count and that’s saying something considering he has the patience of a mountain… sometimes. “Bugger just won’t—“

A muffled voice that slowly becomes clearer as the radio tunes into the signal. “Oh and you won’t believe what I did today,” Gaz and Price freezes as they hear a woman’s voice on the radio. They share eye contact as they listen in. Hoping that it’s not a hoax or a figment of their imagination. “Managed to nab a blanket for once. Sometimes Texas is warm and other times is— BZZZ”

“No, no, no,” Gaz says as he angles the radio to try and listen to her speak again. Price sighs and claps a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. A firm squeeze as he looks at his Sergeant. “It works, Gaz,” he says as he looks at Gaz frantically trying to get it back. “Gaz, hey,” Price says as he tries to get him to look at him. “Kyle!” He yells and Gaz’s shoulders slump.

“Gaz, you got it to work. We’ve had it for weeks now without a single peep but you got it to work. That’s all that matters.” Cupping the back of Gaz’s head with a light squeeze. “Go help Soap with a perimeter check. Let me see if I can take a crack at it, yeah?” He offers as he knows Gaz needs a break, giving him a tender kiss on the forehead. Gaz’s shoulders relax and he mutters some reluctance before he stands and leaves. Price takes his spot and he rolls his shoulders. The stress of it all weighing just a bit more now that he knows the radio works. It’s gonna plague Gaz for a while and Price needs his head on straight.

“Alright, let’s try it,” Price cracks his knuckles and works on it. Been almost a year since the world went to shit. Last year he was getting Soap and Ghost out of the military base in Las Almas and now he’s somewhere in Texas. They tried to convince Rudy and Ale to get on board with going with them to Fort Sam Houston. The Mexican Colonel was vehemently against leaving Las Almas even Rudy didn’t think it’d be a good idea. Took Soap speaking to them and then finally Ghost putting his two cents in to convince. “Safer in numbers,” He remembers Ghost grunting out only for Ale to argue that he and Rudy are needed with the Los Vaqueros. As he works on the radio, he thinks back on what eventually set them down the path they are in.

————————————————————

“I’m not leaving my men, not after what that cabrón did.” Spitting on the ground as the fire from the tank that Graves was in is still going. It’s been a couple days and there’s already been reports of this disease. At first Price didn’t want to believe it, hell, no one wanted to believe it. Man eating disease? Sounds like something out of a horror novel. “Colonel Vargas, the sooner we get to that Fort the sooner we can bring back whatever cure they have to your men.” Price steps forward, eye level with Vargas, as his arms cross over his chest. Beard crinkling as his lip twitches.

“We need all the help we can get and you and your Sergeant Major would expedite the process of that.” Vargas sighs, his hands on his hips as he turns to Rudy whose been silently listening. They speak fast in Spanish, both have different expressions as they talk it over to each other. Vargas mutter a curse, that one Price can understand, and Rudy then steps forward. “We are needed here. We can’t let Las Almas suffer, this is our home and we will stay. With or without a cure.” Rudy states and Vargas nods in agreement. Price sighs and a faint smile graces his face as Soap clasps a hand on Rudy’s shoulder with a “be safe, hermanos” in his Scottish accent.

Took a days time to gear up and pack the necessary essentials they’d need. The whole world has been put on a pause and no planes go in and out especially when news came around that the President of the United State’s plane had sick people get on board. Secret service is still trying to find the rest of the plane since it nose dived somewhere in Philadelphia. Price only knew about the Fort from Laswell when she gave him a call. She didn’t have much time to speak on the phone before it blacked out with the insistent beep of the call disconnecting. Didn’t matter how many times he tried to call back.

When she last called she sounded out of breath like she’d been running a marathon. Speaking fast with her words, “M’glad you’re safe, John. It’s been hell here.” Shots firing in the background as he can hear screams, “Place is a lil crowded for me right now but listen!” She pants as sends him the information to his phone with shaky hands. “Fort Sam Houston is researching and performing experiments for a cure. Get there and keep the scientist safe. Fuck!” She curses as she now sounds far away. Someone is shooting again. He calls her name urgently but the phone disconnects as he punches the wall with a yell.

That phone call was 2 days ago. Soap still tried to convince Ale and Rudy but they held firm to their decision. The most Colonel Vargas could do was gift them a military vehicle and a decent number of guns, supplies, and preserves. A month. Should just take a week to get up there anyways. Provide protection for the scientists. Once they’ve made a cure then they can head back and then everything will hopefully go back to normal. That should be enough time to get up to the base and back. If everything goes smoothly that is.

Even though Price wanted to believe it even back then he knew that it would take more than a miracle for this to actually work but… He trusted Laswell, trusted her judgment with these things. He just wishes he could hear her speak again. He knows she’s resourceful, she’s probably with her wife right now hunkered down somewhere safe… hopefully.

“Are we ready?” Gaz calls out as Ghost loads up the last bag. Vargas was overseeing the load out to make sure they had everything for their mission, he even triple checked for them. Few sightings of the sick people have been roaming the streets. Mexico City is going dark as they get ready to head out as they speak. The Mexican military is deploying every able-bodied soldier at the moment and yet it isn’t enough. Too many have gone radio silent. Vargas and some of the Los Vaqueros plan on scouting there to see what’s going on as soon as the 141 leave. “Let’s load up!” Vargas yells as he hands Price a couple CD’s for the music player. Vargas may or may not have had that installed when he was tinkering with the vehicle weeks ago…

“Figured you Brit’s—,” a quick Oi from Soap, “AND Scot,” an amused glint in his eyes as he winks, “would prefer if I left some CD’s, si? Gives Soap enough time to work on his Spanish.” A Cheshire grin on the man as he leans an elbow against the door.

“Fine by me, s’long as Ghost ain’t driving and Soap can fix up on his Spanish,” Gaz remarks and Ghost levels him with a glare. “Gonna tell me I’m wrong, Ghost? Soap told me how you drove getting out of Las Almas.”

“My bad, next time I’ll put my blinker on,” Ghost grunts out sarcastically as Soap clasps a hand on Ghost shoulder with a belch of a laugh. Bantering back and forth as Price and Gaz sit in the front. Gaz acting as the map since the wifi has been acting stranger and stranger. A wave goodbye from the Colonel and the Sergeant Major as they drive off. A month. That’s all they’ll need and it’ll go back to normal.

The days quickly turned into months. Barely crossing the border of Mexico into the US it started becoming one shit show after another. Far too many close calls that definitely made Price age more than he already is. The main roads were clogged with people trying to get in and out of of major cities. It was madness, the people were everywhere. Screams and yelling as people tried surviving. Rudy kept talking with the men from where he was in Las Almas. Their radio working pretty well considering the long distance. Rudy and Ale would talk and give regular updates day in and day out until it stopped. Soap tried everything to get the radio working, thinking that the wires were crossed or something but… to no avail. They couldn’t even turn back considering how far they were, all they could do is push forward.

Ghost and Soap went through a rough patch, arguments and spitting curses in left and right. Ghost saying that they shouldn’t go back because “choices have consequences” only for Soap to angrily disagree. It took Gaz stepping in to act as a buffer while Price had to put his foot down on the matter.

“We can’t go back. We gotta keep moving, Johnny.” A sad look on Price as he places a hand on the Scott’s shoulder. He’s knows Johnny will take the blame and guilt himself into thinking it’s his fault for not convincing Ale and Rudy better. Didn’t help that when they stayed at an apartment complex someone stole their vehicle when they got pass Laredo, Texas. At least they had the weapons and supplies that Ale gave them in the apartment they’re hunkering down in, small mercies.

Derailing most of the plan and making tensions so high that Ghost could’ve cut it with one of his knives. It got even worse when Gaz couldn’t contact his mother anymore, barely a month in as the group walked more on foot from place to place. Gaz shut off completely for a week, not even Soap could ease him out of it. Took Ghost sitting next to Gaz on a warm night in an abandoned gas station for Gaz to finally cry it out. Ghost, never being one for soft words, held Gaz close to him, not saying a word but just being a comforting embrace for Gaz to fall into.

When they finally got a car it went a little smoother, Price scouted it at a JoeVs. He won’t talk about how he knows how to hotwire a car much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement. Soap was able to get a few phone calls from his family until it just stopped coming altogether. Phone calls making a “We’re sorry, the person you have dialed is not able to come to the…” Soap could only hear it so many times before he threw his phone against the wall causing it to crack and break.

Soap leaned more on Gaz for help since he understands more about it. A silent comfort that they had each other to work through it. Ghost took on more of the load since he knew that Price couldn’t carry all the weight. Especially since their Sergeants were going through it emotionally. Ghost’s only family was the men in the car so he didn’t have much to worry or cry about. Price was an only kid and with parents already in the grave. They really only had each other to lean into, all of them did.

The team went through a list of names to call the sick during the quiet nights they had. It all came down to a vote for “Z-Fuckers” since it was funnier hearing Soap call’em that in his Scottish accent.

“Z-Fuckers!” Soap said it experimentally and Gaz has to cover his mouth as he nearly choked on some beans. Ghost having to aggressively pat his back as even he started laughing. Price tried to be stern about being quiet but even he gave into it when Soap kept saying it. A lil calm in their storm, for once the night feels normal.

“It’s like that Romero movie, m’serious Gaz.” Soap grins as they sit next to each other in an office building they’re hiding in. The other in different spots of the room as they chatter back and forth like it’s a normal 141 mission. The Z-fuckers, as Soap so lovingly calls them, are outside on the streets. Moaning and groaning as they search for something breathing and living to sink their nasty teeth into. As they were looking for a place to stay earlier, Ghost narrowly got bit when he pulled Price back from the exit only for Price to punch the shit out of the dead woman making her stumble. Gaz was quicker with stabbing her in the head and then the zombie went limp.

When they finally settled for the night Soap spoke up again to Gaz and then to the rest of the group. “It’s the brains. I dinnae think it’d be but it is.” Soap says outloud and Ghost agreed to it, “Aim for the head.” Become the motto of the group.

Took 5 months in total, a few near misses, a couple of shit shows after the other, and finally they’ve made it to Fort Sam Houston.

“Jesus Christ.” Gaz whistles out as he looks on the binoculars. “Sore sight that���s for damn sure.” Soap makes a grabby hand motion and Gaz obliges him. Blue eyes widening as he looks to Price.

“You’re out ya damn mind if ya think anyones livin.” It’s definitely not a pretty sight. Too many deads, blood smeared on the outside walls of the building. Body parts on the ground. “Pretty sure that’s guts on a car…” Like a horror show from the looks of it. Especially with the broken glass and some of the cars in the parking lot being overturned.

Arms crossed and jacket pulled tight as Price levels him with a look. “We’ve a mission, Sunshine. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” Soap snorts and keeps looking through the binoculars. “Ghost, you see anything?” Turning to look up as Ghost is laying on a rundown car. His rifle in hand as he looks through the scope. His eyes flickering as he searches and looks for movement.

Price tilts his head expectantly, and finally Ghost speaks, “I see lot of z-fuckers roamin. There’s movement in the building, too fast for a Z so it’s possible but I can’t get a clear view.” The older man nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Alright, let’s gear up.” A circle movement of the arm as he’s as satisfied as he can be with that answer. Not like they have a choice anyways.

They, thankfully, still have their comms and good enough gear on hand. It’s not the best and Price would’ve definitely lectured all of them if they were on a mission, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Soap and I will take the first. You two will take second. Comm for assistance.” His voice naturally moving into the tone that’s been honed over the years as Captain. “Don’t get hurt and don’t get killed.” He pats on Gaz’s chest since he’s the closest. “Don’t become a meal either.” Simple enough as is. Get in, find the scientists, and get out. Pretty clear cut. What could go wrong?

“Price you’re gonna have to think of something! Gaz and I are about to get cornered!” Ghost yells into the comm as he quickly tries to find a room to try and hide him and Gaz in.

Ghost slams against the door and throws Gaz inside. Shutting it quickly as the screech of a dead alerts more to where they are. “Fuck,” Ghost curses as he grabs whatever is heavy enough and barricades the door. The wood of the door being slammed against by the mindless drone of the zombies. He pants hard as presses a hand on the back of his head. His fingers flexing against his mask. His mind working overtime to think of a way out for the both of them.

His eyes searching for an exit as he spots a closet and windows. “Can’t break it. Might be more out there..” muttering as he taps once and then twice on his comms but it’s no use. He slammed too hard against the door, it probably messed with his comms somehow. At least they’re on the first floor. Far too many zombies on second that they had to turn back. Tapping the back of his head with his fist as he thinks of a strategy.

He pauses as he hears anxious muttering. Turning his head a lil he notices his Sergeant gripping his head. He takes a step closer, worried when he finally hears what Gaz is saying,” We’re not gonna make it.” Gaz repeats it again and again.

“Gaz” he says softly, trying to get his attention.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He’s spiraling as he tries to breath. Tries to keep calm, he’s been trained for torture, trained to handle the extreme but this is different. It’s a hopeless feeling being trapped in a room with no way out. He lost his gun when he tripped down the stairs. Ghost probably only has a clip left. It’s hopeless.

“Garrick listen to m-“

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to John or Johnny.” His hands shake as he tries and tries to breath. To calm down but he can’t focus. His ankle hurts, it’s definitely sprained from when he fell down the stairs. He didn’t mean to fall but a crippled zombie reached its hand through the bars of the rail and grabbed him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ghost so… scared when he called his name out as he killed the zombie when it crawled on him.

“Kyle!”

His name being yelled is what pulls Kyle out of his spiral. The shuffling of fabric is heard as Kyle breaths in and out. The throb of his ankle momentarily fading as he turns and looks at Ghost. His eyes widen as Ghost isn’t wearing his mask anymore. It’s clenched in his gloved hand as he comes to Kyle.

“You’re not gonna die. Its not gonna happen.” Ghost says it so sternly, so assuredly that Kyle stammers a response back.

“There’s too many outside the door. They’re clawing to get in, Gh-“

“Simon.”

“W-what?”

“Want you to call me, Simon.” The bigger man says as he steps closer. His gloved hand reaching out and cupping his face as Kyle looks dumbfounded and confused. His breath hitching as he stares into Gho- no Simon’s eyes. Lost in thought as he looks at every crease, every little scar that Simon has. Has he always had such pretty brown eyes? “You’re gonna hide in the closet and I’ll give’em something to chew on.” He murmurs softly.

Something to chew on? What does that mean? Wait… he can’t possibly be meaning what he thinks he’s meaning. That makes him tense as he shakes his head. “No, no-“

“Kyle,” he starts but he gets cut off fast.

“No! I’m not… I can’t just… no!” He steps back but Simons hand grips him a bit harder. Months ago he wouldn’t even think about yelling back to him but he doesn’t care. He’s not going to let Simon die. Not because of him. A battle of wills while the zombies growl outside the door.

“I love you.”

Kyles shoulders slack, his mouth parted slightly as his heart pounds from adrenaline and fear. Eyes glassing over as he says, “y-you what?”

“I know it’s taking me a while to say it. I’m sorry but I do. I love you” Simon looks down as he says it, like it’s a secret that wasn’t supposed to be said but also a yearning to be spoken about. “I’ve lost a lot. I’ve buried too many.” He laughs sadly, “Maybe Johnny was right that I’d need to be put in these types of situations to say it.”

“But Johnny, you love Johnny.”

“I do. Figured it out in Las Almas. Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel for you or… John.” Slowly pressing his forehead to Gaz. Ignoring the pounding hands of the dead on the door that could break at any minute if it wasn’t for the desks in front of it. Simon looks at Gaz like he’s the only thing here. The only important thing in this room right here and now. “The dead outside this door isn’t gonna stop me from protecting what’s mine.”

“We can both hide. We can…” he tries to offer, tries to think through the emotions bubbling up in his chest.

“Kyle, you’ve a brilliant mind. Best on par with John but you know as well as I that the dead won’t stop till they have something to sink their teeth into.”

“No, no you can’t just confess. You can’t just tell me you love me and then die!” He yells and something fierce is in Gaz’s eyes. “You don’t get to leave.” Hands reaching out and grips the collar of Simon’s shirt. The one that Johnny got for him when they were running through a Walmart. A determined look in his eyes and something even more as he glares at his Lieutenant, his Simon, his.

Planting his feet as he ignores the pain in his sprain. “You don’t get to die on me Simon Riley. Not now. Not ever.” Leaning up and kissing him as Simon’s eyes widen. Shaken up as he clearly wasn’t expecting Kyle to kiss him or even reciprocate it. Maybe he also needed to be put in this situation to realize it as well that he loves Simon too.

“Dead’s be damned,” he breathes out as he knocks his forehead to Simon’s. “Our guys will get us. You know they will, don’t try and die on me.” Nose brushing against each other. The cracking of the wooden door pulls them out of the moment. Simon stepping in front of Gaz fast as he widens his stance and grabs his gun. The barricade in front of the door won’t last long. Simon eyes the closet door and then behind him to Gaz.

“I have a clip left. I ca-“ a loud sound outside makes the building shake and he can think of only one person that would make such a loud noise. Just as he’s about to laugh about the odds of who it is. A buzzing noise on Gaz’s comm comes to life as Johnny is speaking hurriedly, like he’s running. Telling them that he and Price are making noise on the east side of the building and to head towards the exit.

“Come on, Kyle,” He places his mask in his pocket, moving the barricade from the door away. Quickly surveying the hallway before he moves and hauls Gaz’s arm over his shoulder. “Our guys got us after all, huh?” His other hand gripping his gun as he keeps a constant watch. Determined to not let anything harm the two of them.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kyle grunts out when some of his weight is on his sprained ankle. Ghost noticing as he nearly lifts him off the floor as his hand grips at his waist. Shouldering the weight of Gaz as they get out.

“Maybe a lil,” he grins and Kyle finds that he likes the way Simon grins. All teeth in it as he helps him out. Price is already providing cover fire as soon as they both make it to the exit. Soap coming around and helping Gaz so they can get away faster. The building becomes a distant dot and blur of a memory months later, maybe even a laugh at the odds and luck that Gaz has.

————————————————————

Back to the present day as Price smiles softly while working on the radio. From that point on everyone’s been closer, nearly losing Gaz and Ghost was a wakeup call that they all desperately needed. They’ve had near misses but never like that. Never to the point where it felt like the end. Now no one goes anywhere without letting the group know and they have to have a buddy with them at all times. It’s typically; Price and Gaz. Ghost and Soap. Sometimes they’ll switch up but they’re always communicating. Hell, there communicating better than when they did when they were on mission.

Bzzzz… Crchhhh “-nally saw a deer again. That was nice. Last one I saw had bite marks on it. Really, really, hope it was a dog and not a dead fucker.” The mystery woman chuckles, and Price can’t believe his luck. He calls hurriedly to the other men to come over as the woman keeps speaking. “Would kill for a burger from Whataburger, you think they’ll have the ingredients there? Man o man-“

“The radios working?“ Ghost says, stunned that it’s actually working. The radio keeps going as the woman keeps talking unaware of her listeners. “Gaz and you finally got it to work. Guess I can stop railing on Soap for grabbing it.”

“Knew it’d work, ya just dinnae believe me, Si.” Elbowing the big man as Soap steps closer, “Sounds like pretty lil ‘o bird. Gonna speak back, Captain?” Soap inquired as Price holds his finger over the button to speak. For once Price feels… nervous. The first human voice in nearly a year and he’s unsure about it. The number of pros and cons already playing out in his head.

“It might scare her off.” He moves his finger away as they listen to her speak about something that sounds mundane but is everything to the men in the room. It feels normal. “Let’s wait it out a bit. See where this goes. Don’t speak on the radio unless necessary, got it?” Price orders and they all agree. As much as Price wants to speak to the lady… he also wants to protect his men and keep them safe. Who knows who she is or if she’s even alone? The risks outweighs the benefits of a potential alliance for now.

Listening to her on the radio has slowly become a part of their routine. Sometimes in the morning or afternoon she’ll speak. Talk about her day, what she had to eat, commenting on her place of choice for the night, etc. The men would huddle around the radio so they could hear her and her “Talkshows” as they’d call it. Some of them wonder what she’d look like, what she’d sound like in person, how old she was, Soap even placing a bet that she wore glasses while Gaz placed a bet that she didn’t. It became part of their routine to check the radio everyday for her voice until one day…. She went silent.

She didn’t say anything in the morning and then the afternoon rolled by and no response. “We need to reach out and talk to’er.” Gaz said almost insistently when the second day rolled around and still no voice from her. The feeling that she could be a dead becoming ever present on their minds. Price holds the radio in hand, a crease of his brows as he thinks it over.

“Lemme speak to’er, doubt she’ll be spooked if she hears a ‘funny’ accent, yeah? Might make’er talk a bit since I sound like Shrek.” Soap says and holds his hand out. Price takes a second before handing it to him. An encouraging nod from him as Soap breaths in and says, “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Taskforce 141 operative. I’m trying to get in touch with the woman that regularly speaks on this line.” different murmurs from the men as they hope and beg that their lady is around to hear them.

Bzzzz… crchhhhh… He tries again, a worried feeling creeping up in his chest. His words more insistent. “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacT-“

“H-Hello?” She says softly. A nervousness in her voice and the men all sigh in relief.

“You had us worried, Bonnie.” Soap says as he breaths out a low sigh. His hand unclenching since he had it balled from how nervous he was feeling.

“Us?”

Their eyes widen as they hear the fear in her voice. A curse from Ghost as Soap scrambles to speak, “Me and some of my group have been listening to your talks. We… We just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” The silence on the other radio is deafening and they all suck in a breath. Soap tries to coax some words out of her but to no avail.

She didn’t speak on the line anymore, but they held out hope. Johnny and Kyle started taking turns speaking on the line, talking about their day as the 141 sat around waiting for her to say something back. They were about to give up since a couple weeks go by with no response. And then finally, the static on the other side comes to life.

“… Hi,” the radio crinkles and buzzes with a soft noise, “I’m not going to give you my name or location but I..” the radio shorts out and the men wait on bated breath for her to speak again. “But I want to talk. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to speak to you.”

“We’re here, Sunshine,” Gaz says softly as he takes the radio, “This is Kyle, do you remember me? I’d’ve spoken more to you whenever, Johnny,” glaring lightheartedly at the Scot, “would stop hogging the radio.” He chuckles softly. “We’re glad that you’ve decided to speak again. We want to talk to you as well, if you’ll let us.”

“I want to talk but… don’t tell me your name anymore, please.”

“…Alright,” he murmurs softly, “we won’t say our names anymore.” The men in the room all look confused about her request but they don’t say anything else about it to keep her talking. “Call me whatever you’d like, Sunshine.”

———

TAGLIST TWWK: @wrathofcats

[hyperfixiation-station]

Till Death Do Us Part

TW: Death, blood, injury

Summary: Falling through the air I wonder how can this be fair

It does no good to dwell on the past. That was your motto, live in the  present, look forward to the future, but never turn back. And usually, you were pretty good about not reminiscing. Right up until you were rappelling down a mountain with Ghost. It was going just fine, and then there was a tearing sound, a sudden weightlessness, and an ear-piercing shriek you later realized was coming from your mouth. And as you fell, hurtling towards your imminent death, the event that gave you your call sign flashed through your mind. 

The call sign Angel may sound cool, but anyone who had heard the story knew it was actually embarrassing. You had slipped while rappelling at boot camp and had fallen through the air, your hair sliding out of its bun and whipping around you. Somehow, someway, the timing was just right and you jerked to a stop in the perfect position, the sun shining behind you as you swang from your rope, giving you a halo. One of your squadmates said ‘you look like a falling angel’ and the name had stuck.

Guess I’m living up, well…dying to, my nickname. Is the last sadistic thought that crosses your brain before you hit the ground. 

You made contact with the earth and for a moment you blacked out. When you open your eyes next, it is to a bloodied and bruised Ghost leaning over you. His mask is gone and his blonde hair is colored with blood. He mouths something, looking worried, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

You push yourself up, body trembling. Surprisingly, you feel almost no pain as you sit up, just weakness as you lean against a broken wall. You look at the bone jutting out of your leg and grimace, but it's more for sight of it than the feel. There is a dull ache in your abdomen, and you know your legs are broken, but you can’t feel it. It is a strange experience. 

Your vision finally clears all the way and you  look at the fallen rope, attached to you and Ghost, who is sitting next to you, and realize he too must have fallen. 

"Is your radi-”

“No.” He cuts you off, voice rough, “It broke in the fall. We’re stranded.” He coughs, a little bit of blood dribbling down his lip. You frown, knowing that means his lung is punctured. You shift to face him and immediately regret it. 

 Pain is gradually making itself known in your body, every minute worse than the last. There is a burning, stabbing pain in your stomach that is slowly getting worse and you know what it means. 

“We’re not making it out of here, are we?” You ask, voice raspy. He shakes his head in response, looking at the broken mask in his hands. You lean on him, his arm coming up around your shoulder. 

“Are you scared?” You ask, eyes half-lidded. God why does your stomach hurt this much?  

“I don’t like the unknown.” He admits, finally looking at you. You don’t respond, instead looking out at the ruined city you both were supposed to infiltrate. You laugh softly, which turns into a cough that burns and burns and burns. Blood splatters in the dirt and you grimace. 

“What's so funny?” Ghost asks slowly. He pretends to ignore the fact that you are actively dying. 

"The ruins of Finis Viae." You slur, curling further into him, "It means End of the Road in Latin. Fitting for the final resting place of a Ghost and an Angel."

“Someone should write that on our headstones.” Ghost mutters, resting his head on yours. You smile weakly, in too much pain to laugh. 

“Who knew...dy-dying…hur-hurt so…bad.” You gasp softly. And God does it hurt. There is fire in your abdomen, burning its way through your body, filling your veins, setting every nerve a light with agony. 

Ghost doesn’t respond, just grips you slightly tighter. Your head slides down to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you can hear over the ringing in your ears.

 You lay that way for hours, just The Agnel, The Ghost, and The End of The Road.

And, as for all things in this mortal world, your time runs out. Ghost can feel it, the moment your soul leaves your body. He panics for a brief second, not wanting to be there without you. But then his heart stutters, and he realizes he is going too. 

“I….love…you.” His final words, carried by the wind through the ruins of a ghost town. He closes his eyes and slumps over you, locking you together in one final, tragic embrace. 

“Get up silly.” You giggle, stretching a hand out to help him. The world is brighter, the dark no longer able to reach you. You grasp Ghost and haul him up, and the two of you stand, hand-in-hand, staring down at your uninhabited bodies. 

"Are you ready to go?" You ask him, smiling. 

Ghost hesitates for a moment, biting his lip. 

"I am." He finally replies, unsure, but trusting you. He looks down at you, cupping your cheek with a ghostly hand. 

 "I was afraid I couldn't hold on to you." Ghost admits, his voice quieter than usual, “That you would leave me.” 

“I would never go where you could not follow.” You say in response, covering his hand with your own.

"I'm scared." He spoke softly, letting the words hang in the air.

"Don't be." You say, smiling at him, "Death is but  the next great adventure."

"Who said that?" Ghost asks,teasing..

“What, you don’t think I could come up with that on my own?” You ask, mock offended. He raises his eyebrow and you laugh. 

“Fine, fine, it was Dumbledore.” 

“From Harry Potter?”

“I’m surprised you know that.” 

“I read the books!”

“You can read?” 

“Hey!” He shoves you and you laugh. It was strange. You feel like you should be sad that you are dead, but all you feel is…light, almost…warm. 

"What comes after this part?" Ghost asks quietly, sobering up. You notice him looking around and you could sense his fear. He was used to being the leader, the soldier always following the orders, and now he was stepping into the unknown. 

“I don’t know,” you grab his hand, “but I’ll be with you.” 

"I don't like the unknown." Ghost says again. He felt out of place, like he didn't belong here. Death felt too peaceful, too nice after all he had gone through. He had hoped death was a little like his life but in this moment, the two felt nothing alike. 

“I know.” You say gently. You squeeze his hand, looking up at him, “But I’ll be with you.” He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your head. 

"C’mon, it'll be fun.” You say, grinning. You take one last look at your bodies, locked in an eternal embrace, as close in death as they were in life, and turn around. You tug Ghost behind you, smile at him one last time, and step into the light.

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that looks at you and his heart squeezes, beats against his chest until it nearly hurts. something about seeing you in the morning makes something click in his brain - your hair messy and a little matted, soft pillow lines on your cheek, eyes half lidded and groggy. it makes him feel off, a sensation that makes his jaw clench. he wants to nip and bite at you, squeeze you, hold you tight and never let go. he’s not familiar with cuteness aggression, hasn’t heard of it and is unfortunately unaware

Roommate!Simon Riley that thinks something is wrong. he likes you so damn much, why does he want to nearly maul you every time he sees you? it gets him worked up when he sees you lounging on the couch in ratty clothes, an old pair of shorts and a stained hoodie. cute. his teeth are itching to just bite at you, fingers twitchy with the need to paw at you. that’s not normal, right? isn’t he supposed to see you and want to hold you gently? act soft and mushy like a normal coupl—? well, you aren’t a couple. he doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he only has one way to work it off

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s been nailing the same punching bag for over an hour. his knuckles are numb at this point, sore and starting to get bruised, but, damnit, he’s still thinking about you. the other gym members are silently avoiding him, eyeing him as he takes another swing at the bag. you looked so adorable eating breakfast, dropping your fork and grumbling— another punch. you looked so charming when you realized you put your left shoe on your right foot— another swing. another connection of his fist to the bag sends it flying, and Simon still wants to smother you lovingly

Roommate!Simon Riley that comes home sweaty and out of breath. he took a shower at the gym, but he decided to run home - took the long way. he hears you laughing, delighted little giggles spilling from your lips. he walks up behind you, looks down at your phone and hums, “What’s tha’?”, he asks. “Aah— it’s a baby hippo! Isn’t she cute? I just want to squeeze her so hard.”, you coo, swiping to another video. squeeze her? “Really? Why’s that?”, he asked, attention drifting towards you. “I dunno, sometimes you just see something cute and want to crush it a little, you know?

Roommate!Simon Riley that does know, and suddenly he feels a little less weird about wanting to squeeze you until you pop, “Yeah, I get it.”

[ams-lol]

because of this by @gomzdrawfr, have my 141 in pokemon thoughts

For some reason I imagine Price with kinda tanky or bulky-looking pokemon like Conkeldurr or Pangoro, but as a gym leader, ouh. I think of him with more sturdy type pokemon, so like rock, steel, or dragon. Cuz I imagine it'll be hard to take him down with a simple or normal attack like you gotta him where it hurts

Lickitung with Soap. I don't know why, the vibes fit each other, but I'm also thinking of pokemon that have high speed and accuracy stats (befitting to his callsign origins hehe). While flying type pokemon have the highest average speed stat, Soap has an Electric or Normal type vibe to him if he had his own gym, so maybe a Stoutland or Boltund. Typhlosion would be a good main for him as a trainer

Gaz's gym as flying type gym (get it cuz...helicopter 🤡), but it'd be interesting to see him have a Bug gym. He'd have a really cool Farfetch'd as a trainer though. Though if he were following Price's footsteps, I would say ground or fighting. Fighting type pokemon all have this strong and courageous vibe that's similar to Gaz and I'd like to think he'd do ground so it's relating to rock but still his own thing (and totally not cuz I get the two confused cough) He would look so cool with a Lucario or Heracross though.

Ghost definitely had a Duskull and Marowak both as a trainer and gym leader since both Pokemon rock the skull theme he has. And just the general Dark or Ghost pokemon all have this mysterious or serious vibe to them mostly. While Dark or Ghost type gyms play more to his vibe, I can see him having a Steel Gym. Very strong and stern. Bronzong would look cool as his steel main.

A/N: Rereading this and I think the worms were thinking 141 as Gym Leaders instead of trainers. Maybe I'll make another post about them as trainers next time

[crashnbrn]

still would btw

Ghost(s) The Haunting - Season 6 (2024)

You know something I've realized, one of the arms has a TF141 tattoo like Soaps and there's a hat that looks like Gaz's on Ghosts belt.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

-

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.