#past roach x ghost

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Been a while since I’ve done one of these but! We’ve got the usual Ghost mistaking Soap for Roach but instead Soap just reverts back to friendly Soap.

Like he gets mistaken as Roach once and goes ‘yeah-nah. Not playing that game’ and goes back to how he was before.

No touching, no flirting, none of it. The first time Ghost tries to kiss him and Soap rejects it he gets all confused and hurt but then Soap goes “Listen. I can’t be Roach for you. Whether it was an accident or not doesn’t matter, it hurt and I’m not going to put myself there.”

Which, fair enough. But Ghost finds himself missing it all. He misses waking up beside Soap and having the man be effortlessly affectionate with him. He misses the flirty banter and the way Johnny would pull him from his head with whatever the hell he saw fit.

It’s almost insane how much he misses it since they had only really been… dating (they’d never put a proper name to it but that was the closest approximation in Ghosts head) for less than a month.

But he can’t help the way his heart lurches when he sees Johnny and the man only smiles at him. None of that overly cheerful banter that held a hint of knowing when he dropped a comment that held a bit too much innuendo. None of the small touches that happened just because the Scot felt like it.

It sucks but he doesn’t know where to even begin if he wants to fix it.

[roachs-pet-roach]

okay so i js had a thought while fighting w/ my hair to look presentable:

Roach has weird hair. It’s too straight to be considered curly but too curly to be considered straight.

He treats it as curly hair (putting the curly hair shit in it and such) b/c if he doesn’t it gets frizzy (it gets frizzy anyways but its worse)

but he HATES it. he can never get it to look good and it’s impossible to figure out what the hell to do with it most days. Bedhead is the worst for him

Ghost and Soap love it. It’s fluffy. Ghost loves to gently run his fingers through it while Soap likes to mess it up more.

Roach can’t stand when they call it cute but at the same time he likes it. He’s very conflicted on his hair.

[greeneyedsigma]

(Just Ghost being an asshole featuring fem! Roach)

“Look, I realize you hate me, but can you at least not ignore me when we’re working?” Her words were met with the same silence she’d been receiving for the last 6 hours. Really made a girl feel good.

She pulled back from her scope slightly and glanced at the hand cradling the forestock of her rifle. The ethereal red string wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand glowed faintly in the dim light, for her eyes only. She followed the winding and looping trail that it left in the air, as she had done countless times since the string had revealed itself.

The trail ended at the hand of the man currently intent on pretending she wasn’t lying prone five feet away from him.

Fate was an asshole.

The exact words she’d told Price when he’d asked her if she would be okay going on this mission.

Because Ghost hadn’t exactly hidden his disdain for Roach when the string had appeared. Impressive, really, how he managed to convey it, given that his mask seemed to be permanently fused to his face.

Fate was an asshole for tieing her to a man very much in love with someone else who was now dead.

Like, where do you even start with that scenario?

It was as if her life was being dictated by a sadistic fucking dungeon master, “Your soulmate hates you because the man he loved was just KIA’d a few months ago. Now he tries whatever he thinks may sever the bond. Roll for emotional damage.”

So yeah, Fate was an asshole.

[fixfoxnox]

With every "Roach is ghosts dead fiance 🥺" or "Roach sent soap for ghost 🥺" I grow stronger. And one day, I will have enough strength to write a purely vindictive fic where SOAP is ghosts dead ex fiance and ghost falls in love with ROACH.

I'm gonna pull a switcheroo on them

Anyways GhostRoachSoap for the win

[boxofthings]

begging y'all to tag it with "PAST ghostroach" also my boy Roach does not deserve this slander

inspired by this post because I felt it on a visceral level and had to make my own version

[cod-dump]

SoapGraves: Something Might Be There

(Onesided SoapGhost, mentioned/past RoachGhost)

___

He noticed small things here and there. Lingering stares, and if they brushed fingertips passing something off Graves would take his time pulling away. A pat on the back felt warm, affectionate. Ghost noticed too and when they were alone, he brought it up.

"He's taken a liking to you."

Soap scoffed, "Sure he has."

It was like as soon as Ghost said something, Soap started to notice it more. He swore he caught Graves just daydreaming while he looked at him, just slightly smiling. Soap didn't say anything, he wasn't sure what he would say if he did. Graves was attractive, charming. Much more attainable than Ghost. Whenever he tried to be friendly, Ghost brushed him off. Sure, sometimes he would laugh at his jokes or even make dumb jokes himself, but didn't seem to really mean anything to him.

It was like Ghost, in the beginning, was cold and uncaring. Then he began to open up, started to put down his walls. Then, without warning, the walls came back up. Soap never stopped trying, but it was getting more and more discouraging. One evening, after a mission that went sour (thanks to Soap ignoring a direct order), Soap tried to ease things over with Ghost after getting chewed out by Price.

"How 'bout a drink, yeah?"

"No, I have files to fill out after you botched the mission."

It was such a cold exchange and Ghost shoved past him so harshly that Soap almost lost his footing. Soap knew Ghost was mad, but he didn't think he was that mad. His words had stabbed into Soap's heart. So he decided he would go have that drink... Alone. Soap made his way to the local bar in the town neighboring the base. He saw a few fellow taskforce members and Shadows there, plus some of the locals. Soap found himself a isolated spot at the bar and got himself a drink.

Apparently Gaz was there and noticed him. The man made his way over after excusing himself from the table he sat at.

"Hey, man. You look like you had a rough day. Or should I say week?"

Soap knocks back his drink before asking the bartender for another.

"Week has been shit, but today makes it seem like that was a walk in the park."

Gaz sucks in some air through his teeth before sitting next to him. Soap gets his drink and doesn't waste time downing half of it.

"Slow down! It's not going anywhere."

Soap humorlessly laughs, "Plan on downing as much as I can before I have to go back to the base."

"Shit, what happened?"

"Fucked up on the field. Pissed of Price and Ghost. Especially Ghost. And the good lord and everyone and their mammy knows that Ghost does not let shit go easily."

Gaz winces. He sits there silently and Soap decides to talk. To rant, actually.

"I feel like no matter what I do, if I fuck up or not, Ghost just doesn't care. He pushes me to the side whenever he doesn't have to interact with me, sometimes he doesn't even acknowledge me on the field!"

Gaz has a look on his face that was full of pity. Soap finishes his drink and asks for another.

"God, we were doing so good for a bit. Felt like there might've actually been a connection! Like he was opening up to me! Then in a blink of an eye he's back to acting like- Like-"

Soap groans loudly in frustration before hitting his head on the bar counter. Gaz pats his back, shaking his head.

"I know you like him, but I don't see it going anywhere. He's too hung up on the past to focus on the future."

"Roach died fucking ten years ago!"

Soap winces when he realizes how loud he said that. Gaz glares at the people who stared until they looked away.

"Look, he needs a therapist. That much is certain."

Soap laughs, "Damn straight."

The rest of the night goes by quickly. Soap ended up getting cut off and in his drunken state became royally pissed off. Gaz did his best to herd Soap out of the bar with the help of some buddies but the Scotsman was proving difficult. Right as they got to the door, Soap whipped around and pointed at Gaz.

"I-I'm not going back! I live here now!"

"Johnny-"

"Don't call me that! Don't you dare call me that!"

Gaz stepped back as Soap stepped closer, a fire in his eyes. The bell rings as someone walks in and Soap turns to see Graves. It was surprising to see him considering he almost never went out to drink unless he had something to celebrate. Much like Price.

"Easy, soldier."

Gaz turns to look at the Shadows who had gathered at a couple pushed together tables not long after Soap started to get rowdy. Two of the Shadows pointed at one of them who held up his phone and shrugged. Seems like Soap was at that point where the Shadows thought it was necessary to contact their superior officer. And it did seem necessary.

"How 'bout we go out and get you something to eat, how does that sound?"

Gaz was almost surprised to see Soap visibly calming down in Graves' presence. Graves looks to Gaz and the others and waves them off in a "Everything is under control" manner before turning back to Soap. Soap was swaying in place, and if a strong breeze were to flow by, he might tip over. Over a long silence, Soap nods. Graves wraps a arm around the man's soldiers and leads him out of the bar.

Soap was practically leaning his full weight against Graves as they walked down the street. They went to a Mexican restaurant and Graves got Soap some tacos. They sat at one of the outside tables, Graves figuring the cool night air would help Soap sober up. Though he doubted that he would be sober at any point in the near future.

"How's the tacos?"

"Fucking delicious," said Soap, mouth half full.

Graves takes a tip of his drink as Soap eats. Once he got to his third taco, he spoke.

"Did you drive to town?"

"Walked."

"Ah. Well, I don't see you walking back. How about I give you a lift."

Soap starts to laugh loudly, "I'm not that easy!"

Graves snorts at the combination of Soap's thickened accent and the slur in his voice.

"Not like that, Soap."

"Nuh uh. So is!" Soap leans close like he's trying to tell Graves a secret, "I see how you look at me."

Graves flushes and Soap laughs again. He then winks, "I don't mind. You can look all you want."

Graves shakes his head as Soap finishes his tacos. Graves helps Soap stand who found it hard to get out of the chair, "C'mon, let's get you back to base and in bed."

"Wow! You can't wait, can you?"

Graves seems to ignore him and leads him up the street to where his car is parked.

"Y'know, maybe I will be easy. Just this once."

Graves keeps quiet as he let's Soap ramble. At first it was very, very bad and corny pick up lines. But it turned into Soap just talking about whatever came to mind. The night sky to the cracks in the sidewalk. When they got to Graves' car Soap pointed at Graves, his finger inches from the American's nose.

"You're drunk! I'll drive!"

"Sure, fat chance."

After several minutes of struggling to wrangle Soap, Graves manages to get him in the car, Soap finally gives and sits. As Graves reached over him to buckle him in, Soap gropes his bicep and whistles.

"When we get married, you're carrying me down the aisle."

Graves mutters to himself, "Lord give me strength."

"Think he already did."

The drive to the base seemed impossibly long considering they had to stop several times for Graves to get Soap in the seat after he took his seat belt off. When they finally got to base and were walking in, Soap stopped and grabbed Graves by his shoulders.

"Let's go on a date."

Graves shakes his head, a fond look on his face, "Try asking me that again when you're sober."

Soap stares at Gravea before he twirls in place. After spinning three times and almost falling, he stops and turns to Graves.

"I'm sober now! How about a date?"

"Soap, you're still drunk."

Soap frowns, "Oh..."

Graves laughs and puts a arm on Soap's shoulders, "C'mon, time for bed."

It was safe to say that they did not make it to the barracks with Soap's dignity in tack. Graves felt bad for him as he managed to get to Soap's room finally. He had to take Soap's shoes off and force him to lay down in bed. Soap kept insisting that he wasn't tired, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out. And when he woke with his head pounding and a sense of dread, he knew he acted like an idiot the previous night.

He tried to piece together what all had happened the night before but after his fifth drink everything went black. He remembered Gaz being there so he decided to go talk to him about what happened. It took him a minute to find him considering his phone was dead, but he eventually found him in the gym. Gaz noticed him quickly and walked over to him.

"Hey man, how you feel?"

"Like shit. Listen, I do not remember shit about last night. Do you know if I did anything stupid?"

A Shadow laughs loudly, "Did you do anything stupid?"

Soap turns and Gaz glares, "I got this, Rico. Go mind your own business."

The Shadow holds his hands up and leaves them be while snickering. Soap turns back to Gaz, "What happened?!"

"Well, you had a bit too much and, um, started to get a bit much to handle so, uh, someone called Graves to come get you. That happened after you made several comments about Ghost being um... Actually, I didn't really understand what you were saying."

Soap's eyes widen, "No..."

"Yea..."

"Oh god... What else happened?"

"Don't know. After Graves got you no one knows what happened except when he took you to your room. Farah said you were singing. Quite horribly, might I add."

Soap covers his face, "I was an ass to Graves, I just know it."

"Most likely."

Soap groans. Something tells him his actions from last night were going to bite him in the ass.

[omegapropaganda]

🔥🍯🔥

Burnt Honey ch. 9

poly141 x M!Omega!Reader

omegaverse

"You have been a member of Shadow Company and Phillip Graves' omega for years suffering at his hand until you meet the members of Task Force 141. They help you learn to love again while you help them destroy Shadow Company from the bottom up."

John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson (past), Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader (toxic), Rodolfo Parra/Alejandro Vargas

be very aware of the tags and read them thoroughly. Major trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of male on male non-con/rape, manipulation, degradation (not the fun kind), and general abusive toxic sexual relations. These are not romanticized and very much harm Reader.

please take care of yourself if you are sensitive to these issues and still decide to proceed with reading this fic. I will not be held responsible for your actions after you read these warnings, okay?

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi! may I request something? the residential masked fellas (Ghost, Konig, Keegan, & Roach), x therapist!reader, who's a billionaire? (shocking part, the billionaire part was not mentioned by our reader) I imagine reader spoiling their s/o with gifts & affectionate stuff they deserve, while helping them get a sense of theirselves or something like that 😭 (most of the cod characters need therapy, to be honest) BUT- they start to suspect how on earth did reader get all of the stuff? cause i'm sure reader gifted them the expensive kind- but anyways, reader just casually just says their a billionaire, like it's normal- how would they react to this?

Please take care of yourself & stay safe !! 💖

a/n: you take care too!!! Sorry to all my followers for not posting in forever 😔 I had family stuff going on, and I’m a bit burnt out so I couldn’t come up with story plots for some of the characters

konig:

-konig is a well off man to begin with, but doesn’t use much of the money he earns with his impressive title as he has little idea what to actually buy when it comes to things being worthwhile, and hence since you give him so many gifts, his house is mostly filled with gifts then actual things he bought

-always took the gifts at face value and adored the thought put into them and never really thought to think of how much money you must spend

-eventually though, one of his few off duty friends asked why he had such high class things in his house as they pointed out gifts you had simply given him and he started to get quite curious himself

-called you up one night to ask, waking you up as he asked a simple “uh- maus? You know the mixer you got me last week when I said I wanted to make cookies is 800 dollars, why??”

-you had to stop laughing out loud from his confusion since you thought you had been open with it due to the amount of things you simply gave him

Roach:

-stayed in his cramped barracks a lot of the time and very rarely replaced any of his tearing gear because he was too tired to do so, he just generally didn’t care how the public saw him and had little care on himself

-of course that changed when you practically threw him new clothes, new gear, new facial care for his tiny apartment he used when off duty. He started to actually enjoy getting to indulge in a massage or a face mask while he simply felt all clean

-of course, he thought it was all temporary, that you were just spending a particular amount on a well paying month, but as it went on and on continued, he started to get more and more confused

-one day when you took him on a shopping trip, he saw you check your checking account and THATS when he realized that you planned to pay for his every whim personally and could without damage… a very flustering experience

Ghost:

-never truly is off guard even when off duty or around people, it’s built into him from trauma and past and his job doesn’t help to much with that

-however, he does have a particularly interesting hobby that calms him down more then most things can, even you (although he adores you with all his heart). And that hobbies is photography. Of things he enjoys, that is. He never put money into a very good camera, never seeing the need in doing so until you bought him one…

-he cherishes that camera more then he cherishes his mask, which is saying quite a bit. He didn’t know how much he actually needed the upgrade till he saw the difference in his photos

-he of course, shows it off to his team. And soap points out exactly how pricey it must be for a lil old therapist to buy. he starts to get worried, did you spend money you didn’t have on him? Did he take away from your own funds? Did he just take it and not think about the damage you might have created yourself without even thinking twice???

-calls you on his burner phone in a tiny bit of a panic, but it doesn’t show too much under his gruff tone. He lets out a sigh he didn’t notice he was holding in once you told him that you in fact had the money to buy that camera 100 times over

[kagakuoniryu]

Part 2 of the alastor x reader I written when I wasn't feeling well at all

Summary : a new guest you knew from your past life arrive at the hotel, she was that one person who bullied you throigh high school, but she mooks too angelic to be guilty

Code : E/n (ennemy/name)

Tags : fem reader, etablished relationship, angst for the most part, there will maybe be a part 2, mentions of bullying, reader is TRAUMATIZED, english is not my first language, may have some inaccuracy about the show since I'm just projecting, and of course probably ooc characters

After that talk in alastor's room, you hardly left yours limiting contact with everyone...

Well, mostly everyone, nifty still passed by everyday to clean up a bit and chase the boug, you were thankful for it, she didn't treated you differently, she was the same sadistic, boys driven, bug hater lady you met, and you could talk her ears off

"Niff ? What do you think about E/n ?" You started warily, you never openly talked to her about it surprisinly until now

"Oh I hate her !"

Shocked you asked her to go on ; E/n, hated ? The E/n you knew...Well...she presented to others ?!

"Why is that ? Did something went wrong ? Did she hurt you ?!"

"She always interrupt my dead roack show ! She says it's weird and disgusting ! She even killed a roach before I could and that is an heinous crime"

You gulped, noting mentally that to stay in nifty's good side, you better let her kill the roaches herself

"But...isn't it weird how everyone like her ? And how they think she's genuinely nice ? Even alastor likes her !"

"And everyone likes alastor until they he shows his nature !" With that nifty finally stabbed that roach she was after

"You...have a good point...she's showing them what they want to gain what she wants...but...what does she wants...?"

"I don't know ! I have a lot of cleaning to do ! Goodbye !"

"Wait nifty !"

And the door was closed, you sighed, well...it was good for as long as it lasted you guessed...you needed a plan, but you couldn't think clearly in this hotel...you couldn't go to Rosie too...she ADORED E/n and they had their regular tea party...crashing to your friends place weren't use at all, one they adored her, two, it was still the hotel and three, since your words with angel you kinda ghosted them all, thinking they couldn't hurt yiu if you ghosted them before that ; your fiancee radio station maybe ? No, too obvious, and he spend all his goddamn time up there...and he isn't the exact definition of "privacy"...you thought for a second about mimzy, but that girl hated your guts for no reason...or well...maybe because alastor humiliated her last time...

Finally, a bell rang in your head ; alastor ! That's your solution ! He gave you a spare key of his actual house outside of the hotel, and he barely goes there since he is in his tower during the day and at the hotel at night !

Picking minimal stuff, just a few clothes, a notepad and a pencil, even leaving your proposal ring behind, not wznting to be distracted by alastor himself you rushed outside, surprising everyone in the lobby until you came crashing down into alastor

"My, my, my dear, someone here is in a rush"

"Uh yeah...I needed fresh air, you know, the old stuff, figured I could go camping ?"

Alastor's gaze darkened as he looked at your ring finger, well, lack of ring on your ring finger

"And does camping prevent you from wearing you ring ? Or perhaps you youngster has a different definitiln of camping that back in my day, because decades ago, men could hunt even with they wedding ring, and yet you can't sleep with it on ?"

"I just wanted some alone time, calm down al' if anything, send a shadow my way kf you don't trust me, I know you don't anyway for a few weeks now"

Without letting him finish you left the hotel, you almost feel pity to charlie, she'll have a very pissy alastor in her hands until you come back

Arriving at alastor's home you let yourself in, now you needed to brainstorm !

One hour...

Two hours...

Three hours...

Three hours and about 3 cups of tea in...you have little next to nothing for an idea...how the hell are you gonna show this pest real face ?! You needed a real confrontation with her, but she'll never gave it to you, and if she did, she would have a backup plan, just like when you were alive...alive...

That's it !

One of your imps friend that owe you one could go to the living world ! He could retrieve your phone and you could prove your point !

Getting everything ready, and after many days, the phone in your hands, you plugged it in for it to charge and once at 100 % your rushed to the hotel

"Guys ! I got my phone back I-"

Entering the hotel, they were all playing a board game together, not caring about where you went...but you've been gone for at least a good week or two now...did you mattered so little ?

"O-oh...Y/n...you're here ! We...uh...were playing monopoly ! You...wanna join us ?"

Charlie tried akwardly, chukling nervously at your empty expression

"No, I was happy to prove my point, but I guess it's no use, she is better than me anyway, charlie, I guess you can take an other sinner in...I quit the hotel..."

You missed the way her eyes showed her heartbreak at this sight of you, giving up, she really failed you this time ; as you went upstair to make your bags, the boarding game night was ruined, and alastor teleported right into your room

"Hello ma chère (my dear), may I know where you're planning on going ?"

"I don't know al, far ? You all won it, always pushing me to the side, y'all fucking won it"

"I believe such swearing isn't proper in a ladie's mout-"

"Well for once I'll fucking swear if I'll fucking please al ! Because none of you wwants to believes in me ! You knew me long her and you choose her ! Just...go and date her ! It's her speciality to just date whoever has been with me before anyway..."

"What do you mean...? Y/n...?"

No terms of endearment there, that was rare for alastor, even before you both started dating he was affectionnate and using pet names, he always does with women, just a way to make them feel appreciated

"What do you mean 'what do I mean' you didn't knew how my ex boyfriend cheated on me with her and that's why we stopped being friends ?!"

"No, actually...she told us the other way around, that she found her perfect someone...and that you tried to seduce him and flirt with him and when he exposed you you bullied her"

"Bullied her ?! She made my life hell before getting down here ! After I blocked her everywhere she used our common friend she turned against me or even her sister's social media to stalk me down !"

"Well, my dear, I do want to believes you, you know I love you, but I can't without proper proof"

Taking your phone's out of your pocket, and guiding alastor because of his obvious lack of modern technology skills, you showed him your call journal from that time, the recording, the screenshots, everything that proved you were in your right mind

"Well...my beloved, it seems I owe you an apology, with her honey words it seems I lowered my guard and lacked dicernment, could you forgive me ?"

Alastor put in hand gently on your cheek, lifting your face, you nuzzled against his hand before hugging him tight

"Apology accepted...and thank you...thank you so much for listening, even if it costed you to use modern technology"

"As long as you delete that picture I took by accident"

"I'll make it my wallpaper~"

"I'll rip this thing piece by piece"

Going downstairs with alastor was a relief, like a gentleman he offered his arms for you to hold onto as charlie jumped on you

"I'm SOOOO sorry to have neglected your feeling Y/n please !! I didn't mean to ! You were a good friend of all of us and would all feel awful if you were to really leave !!" She started, before being interrupted by alastor

"Well, my dear charlie, it seems someone is still leaving, but not our dear Y/n, someone who's suprisingly not that keen on getting redeemed it seems"

You saw E/n visibly tense as alastor grabs her rather forcefully

"Could you PLEASE tell all the others persons present here what happened between you and my lovely Y/n over here back when you were alive"

"I...I already told you didn't I...? She bullied me ! Y/n is just a mean bully and I always felt uneasy around her" E/n tried to defend herself, nervously sweating

"Really, care to explain this ? My dear best friend" you showed one of the most incriminating piece you had on your phone to the others, making their eyes go wide, and all fell into pieces, E/n wasn't trying to redeem, she was trying to ruin your life, all over again

She felt that for some reasons, many years ago, you were better than her, and that she needed what you had, by any mean and any ways, instead of finding her own hapiness she wanted to steal yours

Vaggie and alastor both kicked her out, charlie tried to say maybe she could be redeemed, but when alastor said that if he saw that girl put a foot near the hotel again he would turn her into jambalaya for everyone to eat...she was feeling rather discouraged

But that was okay, one bad sinners couldn't stray her from her dream ! Everyone in the hotel also apologized in their own way for not believing you and putting back through all your traumas all over again, and of course you forgave them

Alastor also made you a special contract this night, you could pet his ears, all night long, if the next day you didn't told the others about it

And of course you took the deal

~THE END~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I don't know if this one was longer or shorter than the previous part, I went along with the random imp going back on earth as an easter egg of helluva boss and also because I was stuck in my story !

It's nice to have a catharsis like this to be honest, I don't know if I'll write request or just silly story in one or multiple parts for hazbin hotel you can still send some in if yoj feel like it, just know that I'd be delighted to write for alastor again, he's my all time fav of the show

I hope you enjoyed it !!!

[expominds]

simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

mdni 18+!, cw: angst, a hair mention of ptsd, simon’s trauma. hurt but comfort

<3 please like and reblog and as always, enjoy 💕

i think… the song ‘patience’ by take that suits simon almost to a t.

he’s gone through so much in his life, from losing his family, roach, to the months of his torturing. he has so much pain and suffering and turmoil going on inside of his mind. his body is scarred, his mind is destroyed.

‘i’m feeling your frustration.’

you are frustrated with him. months spent trying to break his shell, to get him to open up to you and not much has changed. but he senses this. your pain, your frustration, your discouragement. it’s not easy for a man who’s been through so much to open up so easily, but he’s trying, you’ve just got to believe him. to have patience.

working simon open is like working a coconut open. peeling the husk on a coconut closely resembles that of you peeling the painful memories away from him, one by one. that thick, hard outer layer that takes forever to crack, to even get a glimpse of what is going on inside that head of his. it’s almost like you can see it, what he’s been through. the ptsd, the navel-gazing constantly going on. but once you crack it, you’re in.

the memories come spilling out of his mouth like a symphony, allowing himself to yield to finally being able to come to terms with all that he had been through. i mean sure, he had trauma dumped in the past, but nothing to the extent of what was spewing out of his mouth like it was right now. a dam had broken, a glacier had cracked, you sat there for hours comforting him while he cried, punched, angered, and cried some more. you took it because this is what you had been working for.

all simon needed was patience and good god did it feel freeing to let you hold him, your body entangled in his as you lie there in the aftershocks of the commotion. he had found his salvation, and for that he was forever grateful. his scars ran so deep that it would be forever emblazoned on his soul, a reminder of what and who he once was, but wasn’t anymore. his once numb, cold heart, still numb, but not quite as much as before. slowly defrosting and warming up again, your souls intertwining forever.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

“Mornin’ Gary…” the body that was previously hugging him leaves suddenly, the bed shifting as the body sits up and turns.

Ghost only has a moment to wonder where Roach is going before it clicks in his brain, causing him to bolt upright and turn toward the other. Soap looks back at him, teary eyes and small, heartbroken smile on his face as he whispers, “Hey Ghost.”

And something in the way he says it and the way he looks at him let’s him know that he’s gone too far. Mistaken the man for someone long dead one too many times for it to be forgiven this time.

“Johnny…” Said lieutenant shakes his head, wiping at his eyes uselessly as a sob works its way out of his mouth.

“It’s… fine. I get it, don’t worry about it.” But its not fine. Cause it’s been years of Simon and Johnny and even longer since Gary, so he shouldn’t be holding on so much still.

Ghost reaches out, tries to pull the other man in and apologise like every other time this has happened. But instead of crumbling in and accepting it Soap flinches away from him, moves off the bed and away from Simon, refusing to look at him as he continues to try and rid himself of tears.

“I- I love you. So much Simon… But I don’t know if you even see me anymore.” It’s unfair of him to do it but it’s also unfair of Ghost to expect him to forgive and forget every single time.

He’s been hoping, every single day, for five years that maybe Ghost won’t mistake him that morning. Maybe he’ll say that he loves him. Maybe, in his half aware states it’ll be Johnny’s name that escapes his lips and not Roach’s.

But maybe he’s a fool for ever having thought it a possibility, “I will wait forever for you Simon. You know I will, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m so sorry.”

Ghost feels like the worst human to ever exist. To have Johnny apologise to him for something that was never his fault rips Ghost up inside and makes him wish that the Scot had never met him. Cause then maybe he could’ve been saved from this pain.

<><><><><>

“Gaz? Where’s Price I need to speak to him.”

Said man shot him a confused look, head tilted as he gestured vaguely, “They didn’t tell you? Him and Soap left on a mission a month ago.”

Ghost frowned, crossing his arms as he spoke, “Well when will they be back?”

Gaz looked to the ceiling for a moment, probably thinking his answer over, “Tomorrow? They haven’t gotten back to us in a while.”

Ghost nodded, deciding he’d just have to wait till then before he could do what he wanted. He knew his captain was pissed at him for what he’d done to Soap - who was like a son to the man - so he was hoping that with this he could make it up to both of them.

He had worked through his issues, gone to see people and learnt to let go of Roach because it was long past due. He was desperate to prove to Johnny that he could make them work, be what the man needed now.

When the next day comes there’s something heavy sitting in his gut. Some sort of unexplainable feeling that was trying to warn him of something. It’s not until the heli lands that he finally realised why he’s feeling it.

It’s just Ghost and Gaz waiting on the tarmac, watching the heli descend and land. Price comes stumbling out, the man looking beaten and bloody with blood and dirt still fresh on his person.

His eyes look around wildly for a minute before they’re settling on Ghost, then the gaze turns steely and sorrow filled all at once. Price marches toward him before slamming something into his chest, words coming out ragged and angry.

“Even in his last moments he was still apologising to you” Price turns back to the heli, walking away without another word.

Ghost is confused for a moment before he’s looking down at what the captain left with him. It’s Johnny’s journal and dog tags, both of which have blood dried on them.

Ghost can feel his knees give out, the pain ricocheting up his legs as he hits the floor nothing compared to the pain now ravaging his heart.

[thelaisydazy]

Band!141 x Reader - Roach

“Thank you, we’ll call in a few days..”

Your stomach churned. Were they really going to call you? Or, was that just what they told the dancers they weren’t satisfied with? 

Your feet carried you down the street, pushing past the crowds of people that flood into the city every day. Your stomach growls. In your rush to get to the audition, you hadn’t eaten breakfast today and you were starving. You take out your phone to check what’s around.There was a little diner open nearby, it wasn’t exactly the fanciest place, but it was cheap enough for your budget. You turn to head towards the diner only to walk directly into someone, your phone clattering to the sidewalk. 

You stumble back to see a young man, perhaps only a few years older than yourself. He’s tall, though certainly not the tallest you’d seen today. He’s got spiky brown hair, which you imagine might be soft and fluffy without all the gel in it, and soft brown eyes. He’s wearing a tight fitting black muscle-tee that cut just slightly too short, showing off his midriff and a pair of fitted black ripped jeans. Just how many punks were you going to run into today?

“Woah, hey sorry,” he said, bending over to pick up your phone and offer it back to you. You quickly take it, frowning as you see the screen is cracked now. “Oh damn it, sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” you say dejectedly. It’s not, but it’s not his fault you walked right into him and dropped your phone. 

“Hey, I’m going to meet some friends for lunch,” he says. “Why don’t you come along? My treat, I feel bad about your phone.”

You look him over cautiously. “I don’t even know your name,” you say. 

“My friends call me Roach,” he says with a grin. “But you can call me Gary if you’d rather.” 

“It’s nice to meet you Gary,” you say, giving him your name as well. “Roach is a funny nickname.”

“Yeah, my mates and I used to mess around with fireworks,” Gary explains. “Couple times I didn’t get away fast enough, somehow I didn’t get hurt though. My mates said I was like a roach, just surviving anything.” He chuckles at the memory. “How about that lunch then?”

You think for a moment. Is it really safe to go with a perfect stranger? The band you met on the subway jumps into your mind. They’d been nice enough to stop the train for you and offer you a seat in the full car, perhaps Gary was just as nice.

“Sure, why not?” you say. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Gary grins at you and you can’t help but smile back. There’s just something friendly about him, you just hope his friends are as nice.

---

“Roach! You made it!” A familiar voice calling from a booth at the back of the bar shouts out. You turn to see the same group of men you’d met just earlier that day. It’s Kyle that spots you first out of them, that amazing smile crossing his face. “I see you met our new friend.”

You and Gary walk over and you take a seat near the middle of the table, between Kyle and Gary. You look at the latter. “You know, when you said you were meeting friends, I should have guessed this is who you meant,” you say with a giggle. Looking around the table, Johnny and Ghost were sitting at the far end from you, Ghost having just pulled his mask back up to cover his face when he saw you walk over. John was sitting on the other side of Kyle from you, he drank from his beer and smiled at you.

“How’d you get on at your audition, love?” John asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Did’ya get in?”

“Oh uh.. They said I should hear back in a couple days,” you say, fidgeting with your napkin. You still weren’t so sure the instructors had actually meant it though. 

“I see..” John said thoughtfully. 

“Bonnie thing lek ye?” Johnny chimed in from his seat next to Ghost. “They wis probably speechless or summat.” Ghost nudged him in the ribs with a sharp look.

“Audition?” Gary asked, looking at you. “Whatcha tryin’ out for?”

Before you could answer, Kyle wrapped his arm over your shoulder, though he kept his grip light enough that you could slip away if you wanted to. “Ballet, that fancy place,” he said. “Gonna be a real principal dancer one day.”

Your face feels hot at his confidence. “Oh well… I don’t know about all that,” you say nervously. “I mean.. I’d just be happy in the corps de ballet really.” You’re not really certain you’ve got what it takes for a lead role anyway. “How did that recording go anyway?” you ask, trying to change the subject. 

“Fine, if Soap would focus,” John rumbles, shooting the younger man a look. 

“Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny exclaims looking a bit flustered himself. “Aye wis jus’ think’n alood.”

“An’ not staying on beat,” Kyle teased back.

“Oh I’m sorry..” you say, feeling bad for asking now. 

“Dinna fash, leannan,” Johnny laughs. He starts to stand up. “Am gett’n ‘nother round.” He returns a few moments later and slides a bubbly red drink in front of you with one of those little paper umbrellas in it. 

“What is it?” you ask. Johnny only grins and shrugs at you. Despite your better judgment you take a sip, surprised not to taste any alcohol in the cherry flavored drink at all. “Is this a Shirley Temple?” Your surprised reaction makes the table laugh. 

“They’re not a kid Johnny,” Kyle laughs. He looks at you. “Lemme know if you want a real drink.” All you can do is nod quietly in response as you sip your Shirley Temple.

[credince--writes]

I'm thinking about the Better Off Dead series right now- and the first sexual encounter of Roach & Getter.

(Poly!Soap x Ghost x Roach x Reader)

Smut Below The Cut

Sorry I wrote this on my phone. Brainworms.

This is one of those 'man I have this idea but I don't want to write the oodles of plot that would lead up to the scenario

You're pawing at eachother, anger meeting in a clash of tongue and teeth that reminds you of home.

Stumbling back, back back and into Gary's room not thinking much of it

The pounding in your ears and the sounds of rustling clothes tunnel visions in on pulling Gary's shirt off and over his head- tossing it forgotten to the side

It's a bitter ritual of begging for forgiveness- his hard body going soft and placid beneath your fingertips as you push him back- direct his body as you see fit. Pushing down- the sudden loss of contact of skin only because his feet caught on a pair of boots tucked neatly at the end of the bed.

Back colliding down onto the soft surface below- a soft gasp leaving Gary's lips before you climb on top.

Your hands, you would always recall in these moments- are so much smaller than his. But yet wrapping your fingers around his wrist he allows you to pin his arms over his head.

He knows the second he breaks the illusion of power you're gone.

You're so, so angry.

The glob of spit left your mouth without even thinking. One hand leaving his wrists to breach your thumb against Gary's lips, press down against his tongue and hold his mouth- hot and wet open.

There's no words. Nothing is spoken but the glazed, hazy look in his eyes tells you enough that all the anger, red faced bile sinks its claws into your throat- clawing up and up until-

"You fucking whore-" you grit out, ignoring the hot feeling on your cheeks, the breathy way your condescending words leave your lips.

He just groans, rolling his hips up against your own.

Yanking down his trousers and briefs, roughly taking his cock in hand and giving him a singular dry tug down the length.

He bucks up, finally- noise- retribution leaving his lips as a groan leaks out into the air. A thick, choking smog.

It's not loving.

There is no care in the actions tugging your own bottoms off before fulling seating down on his cock.

You see the strain of his biceps as he holds himself back.

Back when he was a good boy- he'd be able to wrap his hands around your soft middle. Lifting you up and down on his cock when your eyes went cross.

Pawing at your tits, pulling you close to suck on them.

No, this wasn't the past.

You want to be mean.

Hateful.

You want to hurt like you've hurt.

You played with your clit when you ride him, ignoring the desperate, airy huffs of air leaving his lips.

Your orgasm hits, much to your dismay.

You hand leaves his wrists, but he dares not to move them from over his head.

Both hands planted on his chest, fingers digging into the collarbones beneath the flesh.

The ringing in your ears subsides before lifting your hand and slapping Gary across the face as hard as you can-

Grimacing as his cock twitches inside you

It fills you with a dreadful anger- the scab peeled off. Naked in front of him- all of the emotions come rushing back.

You lift your hand again.

A large, much larger hand wraps around your wrist. Engulfing your hand in a way that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise-

Danger, predator.

The top of the food chain.

The apex.

You twist your neck, a small breath you hope is undetected unwillingly leaving your lips as Gary's cock pushes against the spongey ceiling of your insides as you lean back

Ignoring the twitch of your toes

Only to be greeted with the skull balaclava

You thought you were mean?

Oh, you're about to meet someone much, much meaner sweetheart.

[orangeave]

not even ghosts are this empty

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: you dug a grave for two but you lay in the casket alone.

words: 1.2k

orange speaks: part two to the great war, with more angst (whoops?). hope y'all enjoy.

Plumes of smoke echo slowly out of your mouth, the blunt in your hand burning the edges of your fingers. You make no move to ease the subtle ache, secretly enjoying the weight of the blisters that form in their wake. A cough flowers in your throat when you inhale the sharp sting of night air afterwards but you hold it in place, forcing it to expand downward to create a rattle in your chest. It encompasses the entirety of your ribcage, swallowing the meat of your organs whole. 

The sensation is fleeting and you mourn it as it fades. There’s an emptiness that follows, one you’re making an unwilling acquaintance with since you left Wednesday’s dorm those short months ago. Time has been infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, passing by in hiccups of memory that never truly stick. 

The first few days following that night go by in denial, refusing to believe you had lost her. A hollow ticking resounding in your ears proves it to be true; vaguely signaling a countdown that tells you that you now carry a solar flare where your heart should reside, and it’s only a matter of time before it implodes. 

Loving Wednesday isn’t easy but neither is letting her go, and when the denial dwindles into tormenting acceptance, you are left with only the ghosts of her. They haunt each corner of your existence – both mental and physical – creating dark circles beneath your eyes that resemble tattoos more than they do skin. 

You attempt to exorcise Wednesday from your being and the vacancy within you becomes a cathedral; you pray at its illusionary, cobblestone steps but you are bent at the knees before a false god, incapable of offering reprieve. Wraiths have risen in relief’s stead – fallen too far to be ghosts any longer – and they are starving, snarling at the altar of your shortcomings. You will find no peace here when your body, laden with a lifetime of grief that ages you, is pirouetting upon crumbling earth. 

Resorting back to the roach in your trembling hands, you yearn for it to bring some semblance of life into the space you ache to fill. As you exhale, a shadow gathers in your peripheral in the shape of a girl you cannot escape. 

“I see you’ve come to dislike functioning lungs.” Wednesday dishes out, coming to stand by your sitting limbs that stretch out into the pond in front of you. Fathoming why she’s here, in the spot that once belonged to the two of you, is something you can’t grasp. 

Casual conversation is the last thing you want to participate in. It feels cheap; hollow. You deserve more than astute observations and meaningless slights. Something she’s averse to giving you, it seems, and the part of you that continues to die in its place hates her for it.

Youthfulness is forgotten when you are a rotting carcass forcing itself to breathe to a tempo that no longer comes naturally, dangling on flimsy strings that Wednesday commands, waltzing to the tune of her desires. A puppet master is what she is and you find no solace in this dance, not when the past lingers so close to the surface; of who you were to each other but will seldom be again. 

“Something like that.” You monotone, a slight shrug lifting your shoulders. 

There’s a tense set to her own shoulders at your response, the lack of expression in your voice pulling her entire body taut. A vengeful part of you revels in it, only to diminish into nothingness just as quickly, as everything else before it has. 

Your desolate eyes finally raise to meet Wednesday’s, causing hers to widen almost imperceptibly. They trace the heavy bags beneath your lashes then down to your still shaking hands and you come to understand her astonishment because up till now, you’ve managed to avoid her – a feat you were proud of. 

“Y/N…” She murmurs, reaching out for you. Wednesday’s fingers barely get the chance to brush against your arm before you’re recoiling away from the touch, water splashing up into your lap from where your legs hang in the pond. 

Oh, god.

There’s something to be said about the inbetween of dreams and reality; a certain dissonance that easily perpetuates the disruptive cognitive faults which riddle a half-aware person that the past haunts. Nightmares of memory which lead to dark, twisting backdrops that muddy the truth and serve to create monstrosities of unchecked thoughts. 

Falling asleep has always been a terrifying experience for you. In a moment's notice, you are suddenly the backseating, side character in the fluttering reel of torment plagued by the emergence of day. You have absolutely no control over the fate of each suffering you were forced to face and only hold the capacity to watch as it unfolds once again.

You are not asleep but you have spent the past months half-awake, and Wednesday’s touch yanks you right back to that night where your roles were in reverse. The details are still so fresh and it’s too much. It’s not fair the hold she has on you even now. 

“No, you don’t get to do this. Not now.” Your voice cracks, clumsily lifting your limbs from murky depths and rising to your full height. Water cascades down your form, leaving you shivering in the night air. A gasp chokes in your throat, panic seizing you and the ticking in your ears reaches a deafening roar. “I- After all this time, why now?”

Wednesday hesitates, the pause hanging in the air between you.

“Say something!” You bellow, panic turning into anger at her silence.

She shrinks back as you close the distance between you and it is wholly unlike her but you ignore it, invading her space. 

“I will never be good enough for you, will I?” You unevenly gasp out, realizing a long forgotten truth, “I plead, and I bargain, and I sacrifice, in the name of love. To heal the cracks in our façade but you stand before me, stoic as the day I met you, and give absolutely nothing in return.”

Her eyes follow your stance, expression shuttering to impassive and unseeing – hollow in a way you’ll never be able to change. All the anger drains out of you and when she goes to finally respond, mouth tentatively opening as she comes to know the sickness sinking beneath your mirage that you were never able to cleanse, you simply shake your head. 

In loving and losing her, you have lost yourself. You no longer know how to breathe air she does not exhale and disgust flares at who you’ve become; at who you’ve let her make you. Some cowardly thing, bent to the whims of a devil in the disguise of a god. 

Love is a fickle thing, so easily transforming into a monstrous being when betrayal hangs heavy in the space once wrought with the finer side of a bottled heaven. The feeling you welcome in love’s place should terrify you – for a moment, it does – but power is a corrupter in the hands of a widow. 

The implosion within you is beautifully damning – strings held in commandeering fingers snap, the corpse of you reborn in the ash of your submissiveness; flesh of the burnt coagulating into an armor made to pressurize the weight of your footsteps until the force of them cracks the earth, widening the gap of reality between the duality of life and death till it is but a mere phantom pain. 

Say, what’s a soul really worth?

You’ve already lost everything, what’s a little more? 

(– vultures have come to feast upon your bones; only the vulture is you and you’ve gorged upon yourself.)

[fixfoxnox]

How about 141 boys with a S/O who used to date Makarov, but like before he started his career as a terrorist

Oooh I've always wanted to do one of these

141 With a S/O Who Used To Date Makarov

Pairings: 141 x Male Reader (btw guys this is my default but I will write fem reader if you request it!) (No use of Y/N)

Notes: You'll get a bit of background, but essentially we're using my headcanons for Makarov's backstory in this, so if you don't understand after reading you may want to take a moment to read that! Also wasn't sure if Alejandro and Farah were included in this cause I think they're 141 but also they may just be like temporary members for whenever needed so??? I left them out.

Warnings: Possessiveness, implied abuse/kidnapping

Price:

Silence hung around the room for several moments, everyone standing tense as the offending video stood paused on the last frame, clicking over itself. No one knew quite what to say or do and most of the members of the 141 were looking between their captain and one of their lieutenants. The entire team knew about their relationship.

"Everyone out," Price's voice was harsh and it only took a few moments for the room to fully clear out, Gaz and Soap practically tripping over one another in an attempt to escape the stifling tension that had filled the room. Ghost and Roach were at least a bit more subtle with their rush to leave.

There was a moment of silence when it was finally just the two of them. Price was staring hard but his boyfriend was doing his best to avoid his gaze. "So," Price started carefully, "Do you want to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell," his boyfriend responded carefully, still avoiding his gaze. His eyes trailed back over toward the small screen, frozen on the face of a familiar figure. He looked much the same and yet so different from the boy that he'd followed into the military. It broke his heart in an odd way.

"You," Price took in a calming breath, pushing himself away from the table and turning away, "You can't lie about this. Tell me, please."

There was another moment of quiet between them. "I don't love him anymore," his boyfriend spoke quietly, "if that's what you're worried about."

Price wheeled around to face him, his eyes hard, "That's what you think I'm worried about?" He moved around the table to him in several quick strides. Despite the hard look on his face, his hands were soft as he tilted his face toward him, forcing their eyes to connect, "That isn't what this is about. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about what he might have done to you. I'm worried about what he might want to do to you."

He turned away, unable to hold Price's gaze any longer. The man was so intense with his affection and care at times. It could be overwhelming for him. It was hard for him to talk about these things. His past wasn't exactly his favorite thing to discuss. He preferred to leave his past where it was. Where it couldn't hurt him anymore.

After a moment, Price gave a deep sigh. "Listen," his voice was soft, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just...I need you to know that I won't judge you. I need you to know that at the end of the day, all I want is to know that you're alright."

"Makarov," he started quietly, his eyes moving back to the image on the screen, "We were raised together." He spoke carefully trying not to wince at the memories of that cold orphanage where they spent their childhood. "We were close. He was...different then. Sweeter, not obsessed with power and revenge. When he went into Spetsnaz, I followed."

He shook his head at himself, remembering the two's secretive relationship, the shared kisses when they would see each other between work with their squads. He remembered the way that Makarov had started to change as well. The little things, little things that were probably only noticeable to him.

"When he was discharged, when I found out what he'd done, I broke things off." He looked to Price, "I swear that was it. I broke things off and I haven't seen him since. I don't know what he was talking about," he pointed at the little screen, "I promise I have no idea what he was talking about."

Price grabbed his hand tugging him closer to press them together. He leaned their foreheads together, just sharing the space between them for a moment before nodding, "I believe you." He pressed closer, wrapping his arms around his boyfriends waist. "I believe you. Just," he seemed to hesitate for a moment, his face twisting up with something akin to rage, "if he tries anything," his voice was much harsher, "I'll fucking hang him."

"He's a terrorist," he reminded Price with a low voice, "We're going to bring him in and, no matter what sort of feelings he thinks he still has for me, nothing is going to happen." He tugged Price closer to him, pressing their lips together for a moment in a sweet kiss.

With the sweet slide of their lips together, he could feel Price relaxing in his touch. His relationship with Makarov was long over and, no matter what his former lover wanted, he knew that Price never let the terrorist even get close. He knew that Price was all that he wanted.

Ghost

"Simon, this is ridiculous," he sighed, turning his head to watch his boyfriend pace across the floor of the safe house, "I will be fine."

"Makarov sent you roses," Ghost shot back lowly, still pacing around. His mask was still on, something rare for when it was just the two of them alone. It let his boyfriend know how serious he was, how on edge he was. "He knows you. He's managed to find something out about my personal life and now he's targeting you."

His boyfriend could feel guilt eating at his chest and he was quick to look away. He knew about Ghost's past, he knew what happened to his boyfriend's family. He knew how much this was stressing Ghost out. "It isn't because of you," he spoke quietly, shame tinting his words.

He'd never told Ghost, he'd never told anyone. Running away was the most he'd been able to do. When things got tough, when he realized what the man he loved had become, he'd taken the coward's way out. He'd run and hidden and changed who he was in an attempt to avoid his past. Now it was back to haunt him.

Ghost continued pacing, "We have to keep you somewhere safe. If Makarov gets his hands on you, he'll kill you."

"I don't think he wants to kill me. Simon, I need to-"

"I need to get you a gun," he muttered, "I'll show you how to use it. You shouldn't have to use it, you aren't meant to get mixed up in this." He tugged at the edge of his mask aggressively, as though he wanted to tear at the material.

"Simon," he tried again. He had to tell him, "Come sit down, there's something-"

"We'll need to move locations too. The more we move the harder it will be for Makarov to take you. We can-"

"Simon!" He didn't like to yell, but his boyfriend wouldn't listen. He was so lost in his mind, so lost in his stress that he needed something to bring him back. His sudden shout seemed to do the job.

Ghost stopped in his place, frozen with wide eyes as he looked at his boyfriend. His boyfriend gave him an apologetic smile before patting the spot on the couch next to him and slowly motioning for Ghost to join him. There was a moment of silence that passed before Ghost hesitantly moved, sitting close enough that their legs were pressed together.

He took a moment, taking in a deep calming breath before speaking, "Makarov isn't after me because he figured out who you are." He held a hand up, stopping Ghost from speaking. He took another moment, trying to work up the courage to say what he wanted to. "Makarov knows me because we were together, years ago."

There was a long pause. "When you say together?"

"We dated," he looked away from Ghost, feeling heat run through him. "Before he was a terrorist. When I found out what he'd done, that he was working with the ultranationalists, I broke things off and ran." Hesitantly, he reached out to take one of Ghost's hands in his own, "I'm sorry I never told you. But this, him sending me those flowers, coming after me, it isn't because of you." He looked away from Ghost's blank gaze, nerves and shame eating at him. He wasn't quite sure how the man would react, but he understood that this could be too much for the man that he loved. "I understand if you-"

He didn't get a chance to finish as he was tugged into his boyfriend's chest and wrapped up in his arms. He was quick to relax against Ghost's chest, burying his face in his warmth as a kiss was pressed against the top of his head. "Thank you for telling me," Ghost's voice was still serious. He pulled back and took his boyfriend's face in his hands, pulling him close. There was a hint of something new in his eyes, something low and possessive, "He won't lay a finger on you. I'll tear him apart before he can."

Gaz

"C'mon, say something," he begged, watching Gaz's face closely. His boyfriend was frozen in place, his expression frozen in shock and horror. He should have expected this. "Gaz, please."

Gaz still didn't speak, he just blinked at him, eyes wide. His boyfriend could feel anxiety clawing at his chest and creeping up his throat. He started to pace around, rubbing at his face as he waited for the verdict from the man that he loved. He should have expected this. He should have known that he couldn't just explain things and expect everything to be fine.

He had to explain though, he just had to. He couldn't tell Gaz and have it come up during a mission. He couldn't let Makarov use it against him. His team needed to know, Gaz needed to know. He'd thought it would be easiest to start with Gaz, but now he wasn't too sure. Maybe he should have started with Price instead.

"You," Gaz's voice was high, but his sudden words stopped his boyfriend in his tracks, "You used to date Makarov? The terrorist?"

"It was before he was a terrorist!" His boyfriend rushed to explain, his voice nervous. "Listen he was still Spetsnaz and he was so nice! He hadn't done anything then but I swear when he did start doing things and I found out I broke it off! I haven't seen him since!" He stepped closer to Gaz, trying to plead his case. "I promise that I'm not-"

Laughter interrupted his speech and he found himself frozen in his place. Gaz was laughing? His shoulders were shaking and one of his hands was covering his mouth, but his laughter and the amusement in his eyes was clear to see. It sent a flush over his skin. His boyfriend was laughing about this?

"I'm sorry," Gaz held a hand out to him, his laughter growing louder and louder, "I'm, oh my god, I'm sorry." He doubled over, his hands on his knees to support him as he continued laughing, "You used to date Makarov," the words seemed to only add to his amusement.

"Stop laughing!" He complained, his cheeks a bright red as Gaz nearly fell to the ground with the force of his laughter, "It isn't funny!" His words didn't stop his boyfriend's laughter and he could do nothing but stand with embarrassment running through him as Gaz continued laughing. "I expected you to be mad," he grumbled out after a few minutes as Gaz's laughter started to finally calm down.

"Would," Gaz wiped tears from his eyes, "Would you prefer me to be mad?"

"I guess not," his boyfriend looked away from him with a huff, "I would prefer it if you hadn't laughed at me though."

"Baby," Gaz had a grin on his face as he stepped forward and wrapped his boyfriend up in his arms, "I wasn't laughing at you I just," he paused for a moment, chuckling again, "You have to admit that it's funny."

"How is it funny?" He leaned his head against Gaz's chest with a grumpy pout.

"My boyfriend," Gaz started with a grin, "Who is so overly cautious about everyone that he interacts with, and he of all people ended up dating a terrorist. An ugly terrorist too, in my opinion."

"You're certainly a step up from him," his boyfriend couldn't help but grin and tuck himself closer to Gaz's chest.

"Only a step up?" Gaz complained. Still, he had a grin on his face as he pulled back to press their lips together. The kiss was sweet, as most of the kisses that he and Gaz shared were. After a moment they pulled back, just enough that Gaz could mutter, "You know we have to tell the team about this right?"

"I'm already dreading it," his boyfriend pulled him back into a kiss.

Soap

"Why didn't you tell me!" Soap followed close behind him, both of them storming into the locker room in quick strides. His boyfriend had a scowl on his face but was trying desperately to ignore the clawing guilt and anxiety in his chest.

"It wasn't important," he shot back, starting to strip himself of his gear with shakey hands. "It still isn't important."

"Not important?" Soap stopped next to him, tossing his bag on the bench next to his boyfriend's discarded tac vest. "If you don't consider that important, I hate to see what you do."

He gave a deep sigh before turning to face Soap, crossing his arms over his chest with an indignant huff. "What do you want me to say?" He met his boyfriend's eyes, wincing at the anger that was so clearly there.

"I want you to explain," Soap stepped closer to him, taking one of his hands in his own and tugging him closer. He avoided Soap's gaze, looking away from him as things grew too intense. When he was so close he could see the worry that was so clearly undercutting his boyfriend's anger. It was much easier to handle when he could only see the anger, it was so much more familiar.

Soap wasn't like his past relationships. Soap was sweeter and more excitable and he'd never let his anger or his rage paint him into something that he wasn't. It was much easier to separate himself though. To justify his desire to push away if Soap was angry.

"You already know everything," he muttered, allowing himself to be pulled even closer until he and Soap were chest to chest.

"I don't think I do," Soap spoke carefully, "All I know is that you used to be with him and that apparently that," he seemed to struggle for a moment to contain the venom he was feeling, "bastard wants you back."

His boyfriend shrugged hesitantly, shame creeping up his spine as he remembered the last time that he'd seen Makarov, when he'd realized that a man that he'd trusted all his life had been lying to him. "I was raised with him," he spoke carefully, "I trusted him, he broke that trust, so I ended things."

"Did you," Soap seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Did you know that he was..."

His boyfriend gave a humorless chuckle, "When he was discharged, he told me it was all false accusations. That they needed a fall guy and chose him. I believed him." He looked up at Soap with wide pleading eyes, "When I found out that he'd joined the ultranationalists, I knew that he'd lied to me. I swear to god that I broke things off then."

"So what Makarov said," Soap's hands began to slowly rub up and down his arms, trying to comfort him even when he was worried himself. "You're not going to-"

"I'd never join him." He spoke seriously, stepping closer to Soap to whisper softly, "I'd never betray you. I swear."

Soap gave a relieved sigh, like that was all that he needed to hear. "Thank fuck," his whisper was muffled toward the end as he pressed closer to his boyfriend, connecting their mouths in a passionate kiss. All he needed was the reassurance that his boyfriend was his.

Roach

"You are not doing this, absolutely not," Roach's voice was harsh and he was giving a hard glare to the general who'd suggested it.

"Roach-"

"No," Roach shook his head, "This is crazy. I am not letting you do this. Makarov would kill you!"

Laswell looked between Roach and his boyfriend for several moments, a knowing look on her face. "You haven't told him," she guessed, pulling a wince from him and a confused look from Roach.

"Told me what?" Roach looked between them carefully, "What's going on?"

"We'll step out," Laswell motioned for the general to follow her and, though he looked grumpy about it, he begrudgingly stood to follow her out of the room. "Take your time," she gave him a small, supporting smile before fully leaving the room.

Silence hung around them for several moments. He did his best to avoid Roach's gaze, his hands tightening in his clothes for support. "What was Laswell talking about?" Roach's voice was quiet.

The words hung in the air for a few moments, sitting between them heavily. Finally, he worked up the courage to respond, "They didn't choose me randomly."

Roach moved around the couch he'd been standing behind, taking a quick seat beside his boyfriend before taking his hands in his own. "What do I need to know," he asked quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles onto the back of his boyfriend's hands.

Even in this moment, even when he thought that his boyfriend was hiding something from him, he was trying to provide him with some form of comfort.

"Makarov and I...we were together. Years ago." He moved closer to Roach, looking up at him seriously as he continued, "When I found out that he was working with the untranationalists, I tried to break things off."

"Tried?" Roach spoke carefully, but his boyfriend could hear the deep concern in his voice.

"He'd changed too much at that point," his boyfriend looked away, avoiding his gaze, "He, uh, well, he refused to let me leave. Tried to lock me up. Soon as I got the chance I ran, came to the US Embassy for help. Laswell is the one who helped me dissappear."

Roach was silent for a long moment, just taking in the information he'd just been given. He hid his reaction well, keeping his face politely neutral. His boyfriend knew him well though, he could read all of the microexpressions that he tried to conceal. He could read the barely contained rage that Roach was trying to hide. "I'm sorry," he muttered after a moment, "I should have told you."

That seemed to bring Roach back into the moment and his hands clenched around his boyfriend's. "I'm not mad at you," he spoke quickly, already knowing where his boyfriend's mind had gone. He tugged himself closer, wrapping him up against his chest with loving strokes of his hands. "You aren't going undercover," he spoke quietly, "You aren't going near Makarov ever again. I'll never let him get anywhere close to you again."

[lethalchiralium]

A Late Night Last Minute Request | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i’m ripping up my carpet this took so long. MY BAD. i wrote an entirely different piece and then hated it LOL HERE WE ARE. (also to the request about learning more about winnie’s mom… here you go babes)

warnings: Mentions of death, pregnancy, miscarriages, abortions, past vague food insecurities, cussing. mentions of canon typical missions. gaz is super sweet and i love him

Summary: Laswell catches Simon at the supermarket, to which he brings bad news home. There's only one thing he wants - a last minute request.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Told you not to bother me.”

Laswell looked apologetic as she stood in the small aisle of the market with Simon, the folder in her hand looked hefty and he didn’t appreciate being interrupted on a Sunday with Mellie almost asleep in his grasp. The little baby curiously gazed at Laswell, her body still curled into Simon’s chest. “Was important. Sensitive information, couldn’t have your wife looking through it.”

He grunted in response. He snatched the manila folder from the Station Chief, he didn’t have to move Mellie between arms since she was secured to his chest with a black muslin drape - tied to his body and underneath his leather jacket, but she could still look around. He opened the file, skimming through the information and committing it to memory. He’d see it before, but one thing struck him as strange - the target’s latest location was London. He had never left Sicily the few years the higher-ups had been watching him. The man knew crucial information about the Russian Mob and was going to be put in Task Force custody as soon as they could find the bastard and keep him in one spot. The target had a knack for slipping out of everyone’s fingers, and for never being able to be photographed.

Mellie cooed from his chest, her little hand gripping the muslin. He looked back up to Laswell, closing the file. It was Sunday and he was looking through a damn target file when all he was supposed to be doing was getting milk and cat food, now that he still had Missy in his office. “Let me guess, it’s been pushed up?”

Laswell nodded.

“Great.” He turned away, grabbing a carton of milk.

“We’re taking König out of the mission and putting Soap and Gaz in.”

He frowned behind his medical mask, turning back to her.

She crossed her arms. “It’s in three days. I will be staying with your family until König and Roach are able to get there to take my place.”

“Why?” He glared at the woman, hand coming to settle on Mellie’s back.

“A precaution. He’s a little too close to us for comfort.”

“Don’t fuck with my cat while you’re there.” He answered, handing the folder back to Laswell. “Just feed it. She doesn’t know that it’s even in the house yet.”

“A birthday present?” Laswell remarked with a smile, Simon stared at her.

“Not for my wife, no.”

She nodded before taking a step back. “I will see you soon, then.” She turned away then, walking away and turning out of the aisle. The only clue that told him she had gone was the little ring of the door as she opened it, then it ringing again when the door closed.

Simon turned back to the refrigerated section, hand absentmindedly rubbing his daughter’s back. The little girl didn’t make a sound as he moved around the small store, scanning the aisles for something that dumb kitten could eat. Every time he tried to take it out of the house to drop it off at Soap’s, Winnie would follow him and ask what he was doing with the box. He couldn’t make it past his front door anymore with that box, she would appear out of thin air - a trait she apparently learned from him.

He turned down another aisle, the carton of milk made his hand begin to throb from the cold as he noticed a small boy in the aisle as well. Simon glanced down the aisle, seeing toiletries, microwave meals, cans of food and crisps - the blonde haired boy with dirty clothes was staring at the crisps with intent. Simon noted he probably wasn’t any younger than eight, the kid had only a couple pounds in his hand.

Simon easily moved down the aisle, dodging the kid’s little body as he then scanned the cans - hitting jackpot when he spotted a few small cans of tuna. As soon as his hand grabbed a can, he heard a woman’s voice speak towards the boy, “Love, c’mon. I don’t have enough for those.”

The Lieutenant observed the small woman out of the corner of his eye, in a ratty old sweater and pants that have definitely seen better days. She looked tired, her purse was definitely one she had bought for cheap - her trolley only had a box of pasta, a jar of pasta sauce, and two water bottles. It pulled at a string in his head, reminding him of a time where his mother only had twenty quid to get her and her two boys food for the whole week, his father had spent the rest of the money on whatever he wanted - alcohol, drugs, prostitutes. He had moments just like the little boy behind him, wanting something from the store yet unable to afford it. He had protected Tommy when he was ten because his little brother had pocketed a chocolate bar, Simon had taken a beating from his father for not teaching his brother better. If he looked for it, he’d find the silvery scar on the back of his arm from that belt buckle breaking skin.

“Dada.” Mellie cooed from his chest, he instantly looked down to her. Her big brown eyes that looked exactly like his looked so tired, he gently pet her head.

You’ll never go hungry if I have something to do with it. He remarked to his child in his head as he only grabbed two small cans of tuna, the tin’s logo blue and showing what looked like a swordfish. He held them in his free hand before noticing that the boy had gone, as well as his mother - he could vaguely hear her hushed words from another part of the small corner store. He turned around then, eyeing the small selection of crisps that the young boy had been only moments prior.

He plucked a bag of each of the two kinds the boy had been debating over and turned down the aisle, moving towards the till.

The elderly woman behind the counter had placed down her large book as soon as he approached, his daughter gently murmuring on his chest as he placed his five items on the counter. She had dark brown hair, wisps of gray in her tied back pony tail. She began to punch in the amounts for each item, he balanced on the heels of his feet. One hand dug into his pocket, pulling out his worn wallet you had gotten him on your first anniversary. It was a shiny black leather, worn on the edges but still something he’d always cherish. He opened the wallet, pulling out forty quid.

“That’d be ten quid.” The woman spoke softly, her voice kind.

He handed her twenty quid, saying, “Can you bag up the crisps separate?”

The lady nodded, pulling out two small brown bags. She separated the items and bagged them before handing him back his change, then pushed the bags towards him. “Have a good day.”

Simon took the bag with the crisps, slipping the money in before handing it back to the cashier. “There’s a mum and her son in here, do you mind giving the bag to them?”

She furrowed her brows. “That’s… very kind of you. May I ask why?”

Simon looked over his shoulder, down the store to see the little boy staring at a small selection of candy. He could almost see his little brother in the boy’s place, little grubby hand grabbing the chocolate bar and hiding it in his mum’s purse. Simon turned back to the cashier, mumbling a small, “Thank you.” He took his bag of milk and tuna and turned away, going through the same door that Laswell had left through only five minutes prior.

The air had cooled significantly, Simon tugged on his coat to cover Mellie more as he started to walk down the lane towards the tram stop. Sure, it was a corner store but it was still a tram ride and a walk back home - so he had a lot of thinking to do.

He has always hated leaving you and Winnie alone, but this would be his first time leaving Mellie. The baby strapped against his chest was obsessed with him, he knew it would break her little heart when he didn���t come to comfort her in the middle of the night - and honestly, it would break his heart too. You could say that he was going soft, and he would agree - because children need kindness, not a father whose problems are projected onto them.

He moved the bag into the crook of his elbow, his hand tugged up the zipper of his leather jacket up to Mellie’s shoulder, just to keep her warm. He didn’t expect it to get so cold so quickly, but it’s England. He patted Mellie a little, to which the little baby cooed, “Dada.”

“I know, Bug.” He murmured, moving the bag back into his hand. “We’ll be home for dinner soon.”

It had rained in the morning, leaving the day humid and letting the evening mist roll in. He wasn’t a fan of fog, knowing that anything could be lurking around a corner. The tram station was close, he could see it through the light fog. He began to speed walk, still keeping an eye out for his surroundings.

As soon as he stepped onto the platform, the tram rolled into the small stop. It looked empty, the late afternoon rush had already come and gone. He quietly hurried onto the tram, finding a seat near the middle as the doors began to beep, alerting they were about to close. There wasn’t another soul on the tram, he was silently thankful for it. He settled his paper bag with milk and tuna in it on the seat beside him, now resting his hands on his daughter’s head and her bottom to keep her close to his chest and to keep her warm. It reminded him how just more than four years ago, this was what he was doing almost every day: baby Winnie strapped to his chest, a bag of groceries sat beside them and him sitting down, exhausted. Winnie was always such an easy baby, it was a precursor for how much a terror she was to you when she was a toddler. He was sort of glad the baby strapped to his chest now was a happy baby, but that she also had a handful of times a week where she got upset. He hoped it meant she’d be an easy toddler.

He looked out the window as he heard the doors close, watching street lights come to life as the train began to move. With the baby asleep on his chest, he took the time to relax against the seat. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to just think, eyes watching trees pass by. The houses looked like the ones on the street that Winnie’s mom lived, it scratched something in his heart.

Grace de Havilland was a beautiful woman, a woman he had cherished for most of his life. A woman he had gone to grade school with and known almost all his life - wavy chestnut hair that her daughter had to match, gray eyes, and a woman who took no shit. That’s what he always liked about her and what he liked about you too, but she was always just as hot-headed as him. She was his on and off girlfriend since they were twenty one, he was just always so scared of what would happen to her after what happened to his family when he was twenty.

She got pregnant right before he was promoted to Lieutenant, and on a cold fall afternoon, kneeling on the floor of his girlfriend’s kitchen, Simon Riley learned he was going to be a father. All he heard was ‘three months’, ‘my birth control failed’. And he did something that he has regretted ever since.

He stood, turned, and left. And Grace had let him. He had ran away, literally ran all the way back across town to where he lived. He wasn’t proud of it, he punched a few holes in his walls - believing he was a fucking idiot for even trusting her. He knew that it was never her fault, that he was just as at fault as she was. He was angry at himself for even getting her into this mess, that the baby would get her killed by his enemies.

Simon had got over himself too late, but he only knew that in hindsight. She was only six months pregnant with Winnie when he showed up at her door, she was right to slam the door in his face. He kept knocking until she answered again, tears in her eyes and telling him to piss off. He begged her to let him help with the baby, that he would work on himself if that meant he could see his child. That if she wanted to, he would do his best to be there for her. She agreed after he showed up to her house every day for a week, telling him that he couldn’t run again. He did almost everything Grace asked the last month she was alive.

Grace started talking about maybe thinking about names the last morning she was alive. He had made coffee, she had commented how it wasn’t good for him. He shrugged, downing the whole mug before setting it in the sink. He had the day off, he was going to spend it fixing up the crib in the nursery while she drove to her mother’s house in Liverpool. She was going to spend a few days there, he had put her suitcase in her trunk last night. She had trusted him to watch her house, telling him that she’d be back in a couple of days for a doctor’s appointment. He only pressed his hand into her round belly, telling her that’d he’d be here.

Ghost doesn’t wish, finds it to be not worth the effort. Simon, though, wishes he never has to hear that phone call again - especially if it’s about you. He would lose it, he would physically break into a million pieces.

“Mr. Riley, we’re escorting your daughter to North Manchester General Hospital, she’s not in stable condition. You need to come right away.”

There was a small mmm! from his chest, Simon was instantly torn from his thoughts as he gazed down, his eyes settled on the child who looked exactly like the woman he loved. Her brown eyes blinked at him, her little hand reached for his face. His hand took hers in his own, letting her squeeze her tiny baby hand around his index finger. She whispered, “Dada.”

“Almost there,” He answered, looking up at the screen above the exit doors, seeing that their stop was next. He looked back down to his daughter, taking in the curious eyes that matched his and her face that looked almost exactly like yours. His other hand came to gently pet her head, Mellie giggled.

Three days would come and go too fast, he reflected. I don’t ever want to leave you and make you think I’m gone forever. He had watched Mellie grow for the past ten months, something he did with Winnie. And him leaving again was something Winnie was used to, but he didn’t want Mellie to be used to it too.

He wouldn’t mind having another baby but not until you were mentally prepared for the next one, the time he spent everyday with his girls made him a better man. Even the days when they’re more intrigued by you than him, it was the times where Winnie would sit on his bathroom counter and brush her teeth while he brushed his - the days where you hadn’t gotten up early, so he would pull Mellie’s hair into a little pigtail and braid Winnie’s hair anyway she wanted, even if he was never good. He was terrified that something could happen to his family while he was away, that he had no way of protecting them when he had always promised to. That’s one of the reasons why he didn’t want another one, it’s hard enough to handle a kid and a baby, it would be a lot harder to deal with a kid, a toddler, and a baby. He knew you would protect the girls with your life, but he didn’t want you to. He wanted to protect you before they even thought of hurting you or his babies.

The thought of early retirement was heavy on Simon’s mind. Maybe he should, he could spend his days spending time watching his girls grow - he could stay with you the whole pregnancy if you wanted another baby. He could help Winnie with her homework when she got old enough for it, he could take Mellie to her first day of school.

“One of these days,” He whispered to his daughter, hearing their stop be called by the intercom. He stood, one hand grabbing his bag while the other was still being held captive by Mellie. “I’ll never leave again.”

The walk from the tram station was only about two blocks, but it went by quickly since he just wanted to get home. You were making dinner, all you were missing was milk - that’s why he found himself walking to and from a tram in the evening. Simon looked up to his porch as soon as his home came into view, he could recognize that familiar baseball cap from miles away. His daughter was running around the yard, throwing her little bear in the air as Gaz sat on the porch steps, holding what looked like Winnie’s favorite doll.

“Gaz.” Simon called, the man looked up from Winnie and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Hey LT.” He stood up, but then there was a loud screech of “No!” from Winnie. Gaz immediately sat back down, keeping Winnie’s doll faced towards her. “Your girl’s keepin’ me hostage.”

“It’s getting cold, get her inside.” Simon walked up the stairs, hearing Winnie squeal with delight as soon as she heard him.

“Dad! Dad!” Winnie almost screamed, darting towards him and almost tripping up the stairs, her arms immediately grabbed his leg and she held on. “Dad, Uncle Soap and Uncle John are here!”

Simon paused, only a foot from his front door and he turned to his sergeant, who now stood beside him and chuckling to himself. He moved the bag towards Gaz, saying, “The milk’s for Y/N, then put the bag in my office.”

“Oh, where the Missile Launcher is?” Gaz wore the largest shit eating grin as he took the paper bag; Simon had half a mind to take the sergeant’s baseball cap and smack his face with it.

But he didn’t. He only glared at Gaz, lowly saying, “Soap’s a fat mouth.”

Gaz smiled at him. “That he is, sir.”

Simon waved him off as his now free hand went and opened the front door, answering Gaz, “Quit callin’ me sir here. You’re in my house.”

The younger man beamed at him, following him inside the house as Simon dragged Winnie in, her wrapped around his leg and chattering. Gaz helped his friend by grabbing Winnie off of her father’s leg, arm still holding the grocery bag as Simon walked into the front room, letting Gaz pass with Winnie. He tugged off his leather jacket after unzipping it, pulling it off and moving to put it on the coat rack. Mellie chirped from his chest, he patted her little frame before sliding off his boots - the laces only stuffed into the side of the shoe. He pushed them towards the coat rack with his foot before he turned around, heading into the kitchen where you were.

You were everything that he needed from Grace. Patient, stubborn, loving, an asshole when you needed to be. You put him in his place and never made him feel stupid or like he was worthless. He had earned your trust, your love, and the way you held your head high when he needed you.

You were making pasta tonight. You had told him all about it all day, since it was Saturday and the Task Force surprisingly had nothing to do. You didn’t even ask him to call them, you were on the phone by noon and telling them when dinner would be. Here you were, skirting around your kitchen in one of Simon’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings. You would argue with him that the outfit was nothing special, but he would still tell you that you were beautiful. He made his footsteps silent, using his weight like a cat to try and scare you-

“Dada!”

He looked down to his daughter, but her little head was facing you as you turned to him. Your hand reached for your baby, a smile on your face as you smirked, “Hi Mellie!”

“Say Mama,” He smiled as your hand rested on Mellie’s side, the baby trying to escape from the drape she had been so comfortable in for the past hour or so. You kissed Mellie’s little head, she whined with annoyance when you moved away from her to kiss his cheek. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s going.” You answered, moving back to the stove as you began to stir your sauce. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked so much.”

“‘m sure it’ll be fine.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, hand gently settling on your lower back. He ran his hand up and down your back, you glared at him from the corner of your eye. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

Your hand turned down both burners before turning to him, making his hand come to rest on your hip. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes unfocused - his daughter on his chest kicked her little legs against him. “Why do you think anythin’s wrong?”

“You run your hand up and down my back instead of circles, that means you have something to tell me.” Your left hand rested on Mellie, the baby cooed as you continued, “What happened?”

Simon frowned underneath his face mask, unsure of just how observant you were of him. Did you know all of his little tells? Would you even tell him that you did? “The boys are here tonight, I don’t want to worry you.”

“Simon,” You sighed, your other hand coming to rest on his arm. “I’m going to overthink it during dinner and I’d rather know what I’m going to be upset over right now.”

His voice was low when he hooked a piece of hair around his finger, your hand squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ve got three more days.”

Simon could really never say that he was leaving, that the deployment was soon - it was always how many more days until he was gone. When he said he was leaving or that the deployment was a certain day, he found that it made it feel real. That it made him feel worse when he left.

Your hand patted your daughter’s back, the other still squeezed his arm. Your eyes fell to the ball chain around his neck, the ID tags hidden by his t-shirt. He could spot the disappointment in your face and it felt like a punch to his gut; he was also used to waking up in the same bed as you, watching you stir awake and kissing your face.

“Just two more nights?”

He couldn’t stand the way your eyes looked back up to his, fear of him not coming home was a look he could never get used to. He merely nodded, feeling Mellie squirm on his chest. Two more nights before he really became something you had never known, the monster caged in his center.

“We’ll have a good night with them,” He whispered, moving forwards to hover his lips above your forehead. “Let me savor my time with my family.”

“I wouldn’t ever say no to that.” You murmured, your hands now dipping into the muslin tied against his chest - taking your baby into your grasp as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

He pulled away, hand coming to gently smooth down Mellie’s hair as she smacked her little head into your shoulder. He gazed down at you, seeing your face light up when Mellie gazed at you.

“I’ll come home.” He spoke, his voice certain.

You nodded, beginning to bounce on the balls of your feet as you whispered, “You better bring those boys home too.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the dining room, it burst the bubble of sanctity between you and him - yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. You kept your girl against your chest, gazing up at your husband.

“I don’t want to skip a place setting for our family dinners.”

“LT!” There was a knock on the doorway of the kitchen that led to the dining room, he turned to look over his shoulder to see Gaz, a smile on his face. “Could I steal the little one? Trying to prove that I’m the favorite, not Soap, sir.”

He turned back to his wife, who handed him his daughter before turning back to the food on the stove - you were smiling. He then moved towards Gaz, the little baby curiously staring at her uncle as he said, “Told you not to call me sir in my house.”

Gaz held out his hands towards Mellie, she giggled a little before reaching for him. Gaz took her in his arms, settling her on his chest as she tried to reach for his hat. “You gave me my nieces, sir. So I respect you as my superior and as my brother.” He took off his hat, eyes still on Mellie as he handed it to her.

Simon, who stood onto a couple feet away, was caught off guard. It was a silent understanding that the four of them were like brothers, at least between him and Price, but hearing it come from Gaz? A man with an opinion that Simon also valued? His cold heart thrummed with a warm sensation. “Get back in there.”

Gaz glanced to his lieutenant, a smirk on his face. “Yes sir.” And he disappeared back into the dining room.

Simon turned back to you, gazing at the small smile on your face as he walked back towards you. You were faced towards the food, his hand came to rest on your lower back again. “He’s such a sap-“

“Do you want another baby?”

You turned to face him again, looking up at his face with a small smile. His entire brain seemed to vanish, only blinking at you. He can’t keep manifesting these things. “You’re not pregnant.”

You rested your hands on his chest before looking back at the pans on the stove, humming, “Well, I think I am.”

His hands grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him with a large smile. “You’ve only had a few months to recover, and-and I know that we-“

“We don’t have to keep it if you’re not okay with it.” Your hand moved up his chest, feeling his ID tags through the thin t-shirt. Your fingers tapped the metal, hearing the two tags clinking together. “We both have to be ready.”

“No, no,” He pressed his forehead to yours, his heart battered against his rib cage like a baseball bat. “I’m ready. Are you sure?”

Rubbing his collarbone, you murmured, “Two tests. One was negative but the next one was positive. It’s more likely that it was a false negative since there was a positive.”

“Call the doctor in the morning,” He pressed his lips to your forehead, arms moving to hold you to to his chest. “I’m ready. I promise I’m ready.” One of your hands rested on his shoulder, your head moved to slide into his neck - a perfect fit against him.

You thrummed your fingers against his chest, hearing his blood rush through his neck and speaking, “Let’s just enjoy the company tonight, okay? We’ll tell them when I get past two months.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Your arm pressed between your chest and his moved to wrap around him, you murmured, “Of course.”

“Stay safe while I’m gone.” He pressed a kiss to your head before he moved away, moving his hand to graze the side of your stomach. “Promise?”

A smile on your face, nothing but hope in your eyes for him to come home safe and sound.

“I promise.”

But sometimes promises are hard to keep.

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