#simon “im a dead man” riley

[dollygirl808]

A Dead Man's Home

Childhood best friend! Simon "Ghost" Riley x Nurse!OC Ava

(Emotional, hurt/comfort, injury, breaking and entering, angst? Romance? Kinda.)

While this story is SFW, please be respectful and know that my blog as a whole is not, and is 18+ only. It's also possible that if I make this a series it'll contain smut. Thanks!

Big Masterlist

Ava gasped, falling back into the door she just closed as she saw him- just sitting there, apparently napping. Naturally, she screamed.

The man startled awake, a gun appearing in his hands as he shot up straight and pointed the gun at her, pretty blue eyes meeting hers. And then he relaxed, dropped the gun which bounced off the cushion and skittered under her coffee table. The masked man leaned back on her couch, hissing under his breath and pressing his hand into his side, which was currently bleeding through his black shirt.

There was a nice black leather jacket thrown over her dining chair, and a pair of heavy black combat boots that she almost tripped over.

"What're ya screaming for?" He asked, grimacing when speaking agitated his injuries. "Jus' me, love," He told her like it was obvious, thick British accent making her head reel. First his eyes- so familiar yet so different. Then his voice.

"W-what?" She took a stuttering breath, feeling her knees grow weak as she stared at the man currently bleeding out on her couch.

Then, slowly so as to not cause too much pain, he lifted his hand and peeled away the torn, bloodsoaked balaclava and revealed his face. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Si.." The tears welled up immediately, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as her voice trailed off. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to take a single step closer. His face is plenty recognizable in the dark of her apartment anyways, and there was a little light peering through the closed curtains.

Whatever face she's making must be ugly, twisted in disbelief and heartbreak and relief all rolled into one- she's always been an ugly crier, he told her so plenty of times. She must look so silly right now because he chuckled, low and deep, although the movement makes him grunt in pain again.

"Hey love," Simon rasped, chest rising with every heavy breath.

"Si... S-simon?" She asked, voice breaking off into a near silent whisper, the tears already gathering at her hand pressed to her face.

"Yeah. 'S me love,'' He told her, and that's all it took.

Ava burst into sobs, crumbling right there in her spot by the door to her knees, both hands pressed tight to muffle her opened-mouth wailing.

"Shit-" Simon cursed out, forcing himself to his feet and limping over to her. He kneeled in front of her, bruised and gloved hand hesitating before softly touching her hair like she was a wounded animal, as fragile as porcelain under his blood stained palm.

The single featherlight touch is all it took for her to throw herself at him, falling into his chest as she took them both to the ground despite his groaned protest of pain, crying into his blood-soaked shirt and clenching the fabric between his fingers like he might disappear again.

This isn't exactly what Simon expected when he came here, half delirious from blood loss, clumsily prying open her window out in the open where anyone could see. Really, she should get a security system, it was way too easy to break into her house. But that could be talked about later, after they've both calmed down and had some time to talk.

He could feel his own emotions swell, his nose and eyes burn. But he doesn't cry, no- he's far too gone for that, committed too many crimes, killed too many people. A single tear is all he allowed himself, pressing his cheek to the top of her ginger curls, letting the single droplet soak into her hair. He knows she felt it, too, but she doesn't say anything.

She's too busy cursing at him and hitting his chest and arms, and crying into his shirt and clinging to him, but she knows.

Ava sat up, half straddled over his waist from where she tackled him, cute puffy cheeks all angry and pouty as she glared down at him through teary eyes, and she slapped him. Hard, right across his face.

"You- you fucking asshole!" She sobbed, using the sleeve of her blue nurse's scrub to wipe at her teary face, but even as she tried to stop the waterworks they just kept coming.

Simon grabbed her wrists when she started pressing the heel of her palm into her eyes, pulling her hands away from her face with just one of his. His thick, scarred thumb swiped away a tear on her cheek, looking up at her with such longing as he did it. And she can't help but smile, lean into his touch as disbelieving little giggles bubbled out of her.

"I know. M' sorry Ava," He told her, voice reverent as he looked up at her as a thing to be cherished, treasured. And she was, to him. The closest thing to family he had was right here, in his arms.

"Don't Ava me!" She snapped at him, hitting at his thick muscled chest, and he let her, although it lacked any real venom or aggression. "You died! You left-!" The tears welled up again, and she hiccuped out another sob, cutting herself off.

"You left me, Si," She whimpered out, bottom lip quivering as she blinked at him through tears, fingers clenched into his black shirt again.

He swallowed thickly, barely able to meet her gaze, "I know.. 'M really sorry love." He wiped at the fresh salty tears on her face then rubbed his thumb against her cheek, and it didn't take long for her to melt into his touch again, un-clenching her hands and resting them against his middle just where his shirt was bunched up around her thick thighs.

"I missed you, so much Si- you have no idea."

"Missed you too, love," He breathed out.

Ava went to scrub at her face again with her sleeve, only to see blood on her scrubs that wasn't there before. She stared at it, blinked, then blinked again as if it would go away.

"....You're bleeding," She stated, chocolate eyes shifting from her bloodied sleeve to his face.

"Yea," He nodded once, concise, just agreeing with her statement.

They stared at each other for a moment, both silent for different reasons, Simon because he didn't have anything else to say, and Ava because she was praying for the strength not to kill him a second time and wring his neck.

She settled for smacking the side of his head before scrambling off of him, rushing to her bathroom for her first aid kit.

"Ow- what was that for?" He huffed, sitting up and dragging himself to leave back against the couch, not having the energy to stand up again.

He flinched from the bright light when she flicked on her living room switch, "For letting me squish you under me while you bled out, you moron!" She scolded him, dropping to her knees once again, this time with a white box that had the medical symbol on it.

She slapped away his hands with a click of her tongue as he tried to lift his shirt up, then pressed a thick pill into his palm and handed him her water bottle as she lifted his torn shirt for him, gingerly unwrapping his hastily-done bandaging.

"What'dya do that for anyways?" She glanced up at him as she tore open a disinfectant wipe, just to be safe. As he was about to speak she pressed it to his wounds, making him hiss out in pain. It brought a small little smile to her face.

"Little sadist," He sighed fondly, "Did it cause I missed you," He smiled softly at her despite her sadistic little revenge, eyelids all droopy as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion.

It made her heart skip a beat again, her breath stutter as she prepared her suture needle and thread. "What're you looking at me like that for?" She huffed out, tucking her chin to her chest as she stared pointedly at his wound instead of him.

"Like what love?" He asked, tilting his head to the side to look at her more.

"Like you're about to bleed out, that's what you big brute." She fished out her phone from her pocket, tossing it at him.

"You'd never let me bleed out love," He teased with a charming smile, somehow still managing to be stupidly attractive even with blood splattered on his face. He caught her phone easily, and raised an eyebrow at her in the form of a question.

"Use the flash, can't see shit on the floor," She told him, and set her emergency kit on between his legs as she half laid over his lap and half on the floor to get a better angle.

"Don't know yer code, love," He turned the phone to face her so she could unlock it.

"It's the date you told me you were joining the military." He hummed, barely noticeable pause before turning it back to face him as he put the date in- he remembered of course, the first time he broke her heart, when he said he'd be gone for months on end, only coming back every once in a while.

So, she spent the next hour properly patching him up, plucking him in the thigh or stomach whenever he let the light move. There were only two wounds that needed to be stitched, one gnarly jagged tear across his side that she couldn't even make a guess as to where it came from, and the other on his thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

The rest of his wounds are mostly big, ugly bruises that must hurt like a bitch, and possibly a few broken ribs. When she tried to make him go to the hospital he put his foot down and refused.

"Simon," Ava sighed out, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I just don't understand, you could be seriously hurt, I'm not a doctor, I can't diagnose you," She told him, exasperated.

He sighed as well, blinking slowly at her. "Love- I'm dead. Y'remember that, don't ya?" He asked, poking his thick finger at the dog tags around her neck, the ones with his name on it, "Can't go to the hospital. They'll find my death certificate and it'll cause trouble."

Her face softened into a mournful little smile, the stinging of oncoming tears making her lip quiver again at the memory. It nearly made the corner of his lips quirk up in a smile, that was a trait from their childhood that he missed seeing. She always looked so cute like that, cheeks all puffed out, nose red with her bottom lip in a pout.

"I just... don't want you to die on me again, Si," She murmured, curling her legs under her as she scooted closer to him on the couch.

"You won't love, promise," He vowed to her, his expression almost adoring as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, then his hand fell down to her neck and slid into the hairs at the back of her neck.

"C'mere," Simon pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in one of his old shirts, the gray fabric stretched thinly over his thick muscled form, barely fitting him anymore.

When she handed it to him with a defiant blush, she threatened to kick him in the ribs if he ruined her favorite sleeping shirt. He huffed a laugh into her hair at the memory, and she nuzzled closer, burying her nose into his scent. Even if it was tainted by bloodshed and gunpowder, it was still him underneath it all. Her Simon.

---

Ava felt herself drifting off, when suddenly her world shifted as Simon hauled her up into his arms bridal style, making her squeak at him indignantly to be put down.

"I just stitched you up, you stray mutt!" She hissed at him, heat rising to her cheeks, "I'm too heavy and you're too injured to be carrying me Si!"

"Yer not," He rolled his eyes like what she said was a ridiculous, unfounded rumor with no truth to it, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth, "Now where's yer bedroom?"

A furious blush spread across her face, "Put me down!" She wriggled like a worm on a hook to get out of his grasp, but despite having to limp from his injury and likely having a few broken ribs, he didn't so much as falter in his hold on her. In fact, he completely ignored her as he began limping down a hallway in search of his current objective.

"Stop squirmin'. Won't help you," He chuckled, amused as he opened a door, found it to be a bathroom and kept looking.

Ava whined, pushing her face into his shoulder, "This is humiliating Si," She mumbled.

"Love, 'S just us. Now are ya gunna hide or help me?" He prompted, tilting his head to look down at her with his pretty blue eyes.

She pouted, and refused to look at him as she pointed to the slightly ajar door of her bedroom. The man just hummed in acknowledgment and limped his way over, pushing open the door as they shuffled through, and he sat with her in his arms still.

When she squirmed and complained, he graciously allowed her to sit on his lap instead. "D'ya work tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No, thankfully. I have the weekend off."

"Good," He sighed out, and promptly fell back onto the bed. "Let's sleep in tomorrow."

She had gotten changed into a t-shirt and shorts earlier when she let him borrow- or have, his old shirt back. And he was just wearing that and the boxers he wore when he came in, his pants being ripped and blood-soaked. As well as uncomfortable for sleeping in.

She crawled off of him, careful not to put any pressure on his wounds, and laid down as she usually would, covered pulled up to her chin.

"I never consented to you sleeping in my bed," She told him.

Simon cracked an eye open, looking over at her, "Want me to sleep on the couch, love?"

Ava pursed her lips, glancing away before looking back at him, "No," She admitted, voice quiet. He hummed again. He did that a lot, actually.

"You can cuddle with me.. I guess."

He smiled, "Thanks love."

It took him a few more minutes to move again, thoroughly exhausted, but eventually he dragged himself next to her under the covers, his least injured arm tucked under her head with his other wrapped around her soft stomach from behind, pulling her into his chest with only a small squeak of protest.

He pressed his nose into the nape of her neck, taking a deep breath filled with her smell, forehead pressed against her curls up in a bun. "Missed you," He mumbled against her neck, voice filled with warmth and pure adoration. Her breath hitched.

"I- missed you too," She told him back shakily. It was hard to keep her composure when he used that tone with her, so raw and exalting, hot against her skin.

"G'night love," Simon whispered into her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, trying to will her heartbeat to slow down, "Goodnight Simon.”

---

Thee end, that's all for now. Idk if ill write more because I wasn't supposed to start any new series bc I have too many in a cod fandom alone (7 now if you include this one) but you can have it and enjoy!

Taglist: @cringeycookies

[seohyunsfavorite]

Simon is just so big and muscular (tree trunk thighs..), like the size difference is just mind boggling, and he’s not gentle either, like if you’re looking for a gentle giant, thats not him

He’ll put you in a headlock while fucking you from behind, and that’s probably when he’ll try to be a bit gentle cause he’s trying so hard to fight the urge to snap your neck

Not that he’d want to hurt you like that but all those years in the field it’s just muscle memory!!

[gomzdrawfr]

kitty!Raven au

Ghost: what breed is Raven again?

Price: cat

[callofdudes]

Don't put me in the trust of your heart. Don't make me think of you when the gun is in my hand. Let not for you to leave me when I hurt you, because I know I will. Let not us part separate but be buried side by side. So I don't have to feel the pain of knowing that you've died...

The cold rain. Drip, drip, drip. Cold droplets splattered across black rooftops. Sinking into the soil beneath feet and rolling off the black shoes that sink into the moist dirt.

The rain disguises the tears that run his face a mess, that line his scars like ugly marrs and make him look weary.

He feels weary.

His suit is soaked and his umbrella in the car.

The rain clouds roll thick across the heavens, the roar of the thunder all he can hear amongst the scarce silence that the pelting rain offers.

But yet he can't move. He won't.

He's stuck and he knows it. The rain sinks the freshly dug up soil back into the ground as if it were never lifted. Fresh seeds of soft green glass will spring from the ashes and spring new life.

What a twisted fate...

Everyone has left by now. Even his friends who tried to get him to leave. But still, he remains stood there where a friend does. He won't leave without them. Knowing they cannot move either.

War has taken them home, where peace and prosperity waits.

Why can't he have that too? Why can't he be with you?

More tears flood from his cheeks, salt mixing with rain down his chin, down his suit, into his skin.

"Why would he do this?" He whispers, his eyelids fluttering in the thick rain.

He's never believed in God. He's never cursed his name for he's never thought much of him. And yet, now he wishes to curse him. For he's taken all he has.

He thinks back not too long ago when he stood in this same place. A freezing cold winter morning, the bleak sky rolling above, three Graves laying without sound.

Names of family. One not yet to his third winter...

And now, after gaining something, he's lost it again. Lost you. All he had.

He can't leave. He left his own grave, he left the grave of his family. And each one took a piece of him with them. Each time he left from those dormant, silent coffins buried in the ground they stole a part of him to keep.

And he knows..

Looking down at your dog tags kept in his curled fist, that this time if he leaves... He'll never truly come back.

[lubrumalis]

ghost character analysis

tw: spoilers from ghost mw2 comics, nsfw, dead dove do not eat, mature content.

this is pretty much a part 2 to ghost headcanons except with more lore and analysis (im still not sure if reboot ghost has the same backstory as the og ghost).

ghost is not a cold, calculated, ruthless man. maybe in a separate au or something, but theres a huge difference between ghost and simon riley. in fact, we need to understand that the reason he even chose ghost as a new name for himself is because of all that's happened to him. his family got killed, he got tortured by roba, and had to eliminate many men on his own. before that he was simon, not ghost. in the comic he literally calls the child hostages he was saving ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love’. hes not that mean and cold yall

we know that PTSD does shit to it's victims, ghost lost his entire family and had no one. think of it as a coping mechanism to have a new name to be known as.

ghost is a ruthless killer. simon is just some guy.

ghost sets himself to an incredibly high standard of discipline. i think it's intuitive that military boys will need to be punctual and organized to some degree, but ghost takes this to a whole other level. considering his father's abusive behavior (explained by his disturbing statements said to simon, is a drug addict, and beats simons mom) his home life was likely chaotic as a child.

in the mw2: ghost comic (issue #3) it specifically stated the following: "discipline, precision, control. these are what riley built his whole life on. break those down and the dark stuff begins to ooze out..." again, this is probably a form of trauma response to his childhood.

so what does this lead to? well firstly, this probably means his room is incredibly tidy and organized (monotone design i know :,c).

would never in his life touch drugs. this is a promise he made to himself.

also kinda proves that ghost aint a reckless guy. he thinks things through before doing it.

ghost isn’t that hypersexual. theres no way of knowing his history with women, but i like to think ghost is not that horny 24/7 and needs a fuckbuddy. in the mw2 comic, he was on a mission and was in an area full of prostitutes (wasn’t actively on duty, but on his way) when they tried to hit on him he politely rejects one of them, and later tells them to fuck off😀 so yea contrary to popular belief i dont think he really enjoys one night stands or the idea of being entertained by random women. in fact, i hc he might actually be a virgin or just have a really low body count.

ghost is a feminist!😁 (misandrist too). ok let me reword that, ghost doesnt like men and respects women. one of the reasons why he doesn’t want to be around prostitutes and do one night stands (his father killed a hooker in front of him, very traumatic) is because he thinks the concept of quick, casual sex is not good for society and dilutes the value of meaningful relationships. but also, remember the discipline, precision, control thing? its apart of his principle. but also, in the comic, sparks (soldier he worked with) knocked out and attempted to rape a woman, ghosts literally looked disgusted and called the police (also why he’d never do that himself, i dont get the hcs that say he does). ghosts seen how his dad treated his mom and absolutely hates abusers. anyways onto misandry—i think ghost internally thinks men are violent and disgusting (ghosts would choose the bear over the man, even though hes a man) mainly because throughout his military career majority of the bad stuff hes seen was done by men, so hes much more relaxed in a room of women vs man. ghost thinks his dad is the epitome of pure evil (canon! he said this to his therapist). this doesn’t mean hes scared or hates all men tho!

ghost isn’t close with tf141… including soap. now before you attack me let me explain. sure, he trusts them to some degree, but i dont think they naturally just hangout when they’re not deployed. in the end we need to understand they are SAS soldiers, they are working a real job that mainly consists of them shooting and dismantling others. considering ghosts betrayal in the past (in the comic, a few soldiers ghost previously worked with killed his entire family 😢) he isn’t gonna just trust his teammates because theyre his teammates. im also pretty sure they all live in different cities while not deployed. tf141 probably all want to separate their job from their personal lives, which includes each other. but onto soap, i dont think him and ghost have a deep brotherly relationship. but i think they care about each other, but exchanging some dad jokes and bantering doesn’t mean they’re suddenly soulmates or brothers. think about it… you and you’re co worker joke around sometimes, never hangout outside of work, and now people are shipping you and calling the two of you besties. makes no sense.

ghost is extremely patriotic. in the comic (i reference this way too much but theres SOOO MUCH LORE i recommend reading it) ghost tells his teammates the reason for joining the military: queen and country, right after 9/11. he also said “the world has changed”. interestingly enough army enlistment did actually skyrocketed after 9/11 attacks, ghost was among them. he probably thought ww3 was about to happen, or that ‘theres no more peace’ or whatever. i hc being obsessed with soccer too lmao and getting mad if english teams dont win. also his playful banter with johnny “get us a tea?”. probably very proud of his british heritage.

ghost doesn’t have much friends. hes a really, reallyyyyy lonely guy. i hc him as an introvert in the first place, but trust issues make this worse. in the comic, he was literally in the newspaper for killing his family and then killing himself (he didnt, he was framed that way tho) so its likely most of his formers friends probably think hes dead. ghost likely got some sort of amnesty or exemption from the military after knowing he didn’t actually kill his family, but whats in the news stays true to the public. even if he does have friends he probably doesn’t share feelings with them or form a long term bond.

ghost is extremely cynical. this is obvious tbh, but i think ghost believes hes going to die in the middle of a battlefield, shot or stabbed, a painful death, body left to rot for weeks, and no one to remember him. just like that. and he accepts that fact too.

ghost isn’t a picky eater. growing up in an abusive household where his parents couldn’t hold a stable job, he had to eat what there was. some days he settles for cheap beans and toast and when people call him out for it, he tells em to fuck off😀

ghost is emotionally fucked up, probably kind of depressed. i mean this guys been through hell: got sa’d, buried alive, had to dig through underground dirt and worms with a jawbone, tortured in horrible ways, had his entire family killed, abusive dad, and the weight of his grey morales because he killed lots of people as a soldier. wow! would you look at that list, itd be more strange if he wasn’t emotionally fucked up after was has happened😅. even when tortured, seeing his family dead, ghost was never shown to have cried in the comic. i hc hes emotionally numb. however, i do think hes emotionally MATURE and able to communicate his emotions, but hes still emotionally fucked. for example a scene where he was talking about his experience with roba (guy who tortured ghost) and ghosts father to a therapist. i think ghosts may be traumatized, but this doesn’t stop him from attempting to get help and communicating how he feels and thinks about this world.

ghost wears a mask... not because hes insecure and traumatized it's to separate ghost from simon riley. first of all he learned the consequences of revealing your identity during deployment, in the comic, he reveals his face in missions before his family got killed. i think he wears a mask because 1) its practical, no one knows who he is, 2) an analogy for himself to remind him simon riley, his original identity, was dead the moment his family was murdered, this SAS soldier with a skull mask is GHOST (yes this is canon, ghost references in the comic!).

in issue #1 while some kids were being held hostage, he starts telling his life story to them to calm them down/distract them from the bad situation. this is his explanation to why he wears a skull mask, word by word: "I bet you're wondering why I wear these bones on my face. It's a tribute to an old friend of mine. He's dead now, but man if he wasn't the baddest motherfucker on the planet."

in issue #6, when ghost was trekking through a jungle in the middle of nowhere attempting to kill roba (a drug lord that started this all, brainwashed soldiers to kill ghosts family), he was never caught. ghost himself, the narrator, says that "even for a single man to get through the jungle, the patrols, the wall, the security... well that man would have to be a ghost."

however, im still a little confused whether or not reboot ghost and 2009 have the same backstories. reboot ghosts mask is more realistic and his look is much more intimidating, his reason for wearing that kind of mask is probably psychological warfare (getting milena the financier to speak up about makarov). i think 2009 ghosts reason to wearing a mask is more personal compared to reboot.

BUT WHAT ABOUT AN S/O???

i think ghost is the guy to not have one in the first place. obviously. but i lowkey think if he had one and really liked them, he would commit. in fact i find it hard to imagine hes a player or isn’t serious about relationships. when his brother tommy got addicted to drugs and fucked up his life, simon quit the military until tommy got 100% better and married. yup. he stayed to help him recover, for years. thats how loving and committed this man is🥹🥹.

ghost would not cheat on his s/o. i can't stress how important this hc is, because it's so out of character for him to do so. sure, guys in the military statistically have higher divorce rates, incidences of infidelity, and much more red flag stuff, but knowing what happened to him, he would never do that. doesn't matter how stressed, lonely, sexually frustrated this man is; he would not cheat on his partner. this guy has been through far more stressful situations and got through it, you think hes gonna cheat because hes stressed because of work?

its not sunshine and rainbows or absolute toxicity being with him. it's not really a mix of both either. ghost isn't that princess treatment, super squishy and cuddly, sweet guy who likes fluffy stuff. he definitely isn't the toxic guy who leaves you with mixed signals either.

hes quite the gentleman when it comes to approaching relationships, hes seen how his dad treated his mom, and ghost wants to do the exact opposite. i believe ghost likes to use the traditional courting methods when dating someone: gifting flowers, paying for dates, holding the door open (ladies first typa guy!!), the old fashioned stuff. idk if i should point it out again but this guy DOES NOT FW modern dating practices, he wouldn't download dating apps, or start 'talking stages'. i dont think he would write love letters just because hes not very good at writing poetry or expressing his feelings in the first place.

theres still downsides to being with him. the long distance, the time being apart (months and months). but i dont think he'd go as far as being emotionally avoidant.

also something really random ive noticed is that 2009 and reboot ghost are very different, personality wise. i like to think that 2009 ghost represents simon riley much better, but the reboot ghost actually gives the essence and character of what a 'ghost' in the military is.

more random headcanons:

simon prefers dogs over cats because dogs are loyal and stay with you until the end (stereotypically)

hates snakes and spiders

probably wouldn’t do 50/50 on dates, he pays!

avoids saying manchester slang when deployed

drinks and smokes. not always. he’s disciplined but he still does that stuff.. hes a british guy in his 30s whos kinda depressed, grew up with adults around him smoking 24/7, whatd you think😀😀 (its canon that most of tf141 smoke anyway)

listens to 80’s rock music. its canon that his mom enjoys the band siouxsie and the banshees :)), he probs does too

shaves his beard

is actually confident hes not bad looking. dude, hes 6’2, in shape with a jawline🙄

i don't enjoy hcs of ghost being the scariest out of tf141 (appearance wise yes). but soap seems much more scary imo, he was the youngest guy to pass SAS selections in the history of the UK military, and was nicknamed soap because of fast and good he is at cleaning up 'messes' (basically killing people).

id arguably say ghost is the most compassionate out of 141, if we're talking about the OG 2009 one.

[whirlybirbs]

It’s been so long since our hyperfixations overlapped >:)))

Ok after the last lil bit you did I’m just kinda imagining him watching Moth interact with Johnny and being jealous of both of them (cause Johnny is HIS friend back off Moth but also bc Johnny made Moth smile so brightly, how?? Please tell him how???) pretty please with cherries on top ♥️🍒

2. handler's manual — ghost / reader

desc: moth & johnny spar. ghost is in a bad mood. moth's theories grow. pairing: lt. simon "ghost" riley / f!reader ; callsign: moth a/n: honestly moth & johnny sharing their spotify wrapped is like air to me — you just know soap's was, like, Nu Divorced Dad Strut Rock or something. also, ghost works out in complete total silence like the apex predator he is, you cannot change my mind on this. ⇽ prev / next ⇾

"Woah, easy up, Pilates Princess—"

You punch the pad a little harder for that — but the smirk on your face tells Johnny know you're not really mad. If you were, you woulda gone for his nuts.

"I told you that in confidence," you pant, landing a well timed pattern of strikes in a loop of three, "And you're using it against me?"

"It's yer Spotify Wrapped," Johnny chirps back, lowering himself in a sturdier stance as you strike — left, left, right, left. Left, left, right, left, "An' tha' makes it yer problem, lass."

"Don't you lass me—"

You nail an easy transition into a different flow — right, left, right, left, left, right.

"Pure dead brilliant, Moth!" Johnny grins as your gloves connect with the pads in rhythm. He's quick to drop them, smack your arm, and throw an arm around your shoulder, "Pilates Princess is gettin' good, ae?"

You snort, shoving the sweaty Scotsman off of you with a smile; Johnny's a good man. A bit of a bastard, but patient enough to agree to spar with you on an off-day. "Shut up—"

Across the gym, the heavy pummel of a punching bag ratchets up and the blaring ring of the chain is loud enough to make you flinch. You wet your lips, turn your head towards the sound, and Johnny immediately whistles at the sight of a certain Lieutenant raining holy fire on the bag in the corner.

Heavy hoodie, heavy sweats, beat-to-shit trainers. He's dripping sweat, that much is clear from the darkened stains along the back of the SAS 22ND REG P.T. gear. It's Lieutenant Riley. And he's not stopping.

Because, aye, come th' fuck on. You're makin' 'im feel fuckin' mental. Since when are you an' Johnny friendly enough t' chinwag to th' moon and back, huh? John MacTavish is his only fuckin' friend. An' 'ere you come, all sunshine an' daisies —

Th' fuck is even a Spotify Wrapped anyway...?

You pop your hands on your waist as you try to catch your breath.

Must be a bad day for the Lieutenant. What's on the menu for lunch? You wonder what sort of phase the moon is in and if Phillip Graves is even on base. Additional factors could include: lack of caffeine (his usual shaker bottle is absent?), mismatched socks (indicative of missed laundry day?), balaclava preference (this one he rarely wears — uncomfortable?).

You slide Johnny a look.

Johnny slides it right back.

Then:

"Don't look a' me like tha', m' not fuckin' talkin' t' 'im."

[sillygoose343]

COD But If They Were Gen Z Brainrot Things

COD but if they're brainrot. (I don't know what possessed me to do this, uni exams are causing me to tweak).

I formally apologise to: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Kate Laswell, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Nikolai, Phillip Graves, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Vladimir Makarov

i did NOT take this seriously 🥴im jit yapping

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Ghost - monday left me broken

Soap's dead, Roach's dead, Mara's dead (in the mobile comics), monday left him broken.

If I were to recount *all* of the shit that he had to go through, I would be here for awhile but I know we know what our Ghost had experienced, he's broken but he's still kicking! Onto Tuesday, Wednesday!

So I think it's a fair assessment for him to be monday left me broken

I also think he listens to the song unironically sometimes

Captain Price - smurf cat

Do I really have to explain this one?

I guess COD nation sees Papa Smurf in him but the thing about smurf cat is that it has a hat, therefore it must be Price

The resemblance is uncanny sometimes (it's just a hat)

i don't have much to say, it's literally just appearance-based for this one

Soap - prime and lunchly

soap is the type of guy to walk into the recording studio and come out with "from the screen, to the ring, to the pen, to the king, where's my crown? that's my bling, always drama, when i ring. see i believe that if i see it in my heart, smash through the ceiling, 'cause i'm reaching for the stars." look me in my metaphorical eyes and tell me im wrong

he would be guzzling down the cherry freeze after a long hard day of training

he likes his cheese drippy bruh

he kinda looks like haley welch if you squint

Gaz - gaining aura

I LOVE GAZ RAAAAH

Look at him? He literally can't physically lose aura?

I'm biased towards Gaz

Even breathing can earn this man aura, there is something innately charismatic and charming about Gaz to the point that even if he trips on air or accidentally walks around with an open bag, typically aura-losing activities, he just wouldn't lose any.

Look at him

He is Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

Roach - cooked

well, technically, 'cooked' typically indicates that a food item has been processed through fire, at least usually

but i guess this is using the brainrot terminology, still, that changes nothing

cooked in brainrot means to be struggling, done for or that the situation is just bad, the entire brazilian militia being after his ass after he fell from the roof was one of his most iconic moments, he had many cooked moments in the campaign but that one truly defined him, he was, in fact, cooked

literally and figuratively

Laswell - galvanised square steel

galvanised square steel is an extremely durable material, is able to transform even the smallest 1mx1m square apartment into a fully functional multi-purpose home with the assistance of eco-friendly wood veneers and

as ghost put it, "laswell's still solid as a rock" except, she's as solid as galvanised square steel

she's reliable, resilient and shes like the foundation as the galvanised square steel while 141 is like the eco-friendly wood veneers

Alejandro - oil up

one could say that all men in cod could represent 'oil up' but i think alejandro embodies the 'oil up' phrase

im actually just straight tweaking when i say this but i think he'd have a similar community to orange peanut's if he ever became an influencer, like different content but his comment section would be filled with 'when are you going to oil up'

i also think he'd be the kind of guy to gladly oil up on request, granted there was an ample amount of oil

Rodolfo - livvy dunne

rudy doesn't really strike me as a rizzer more like a rizzee (im tweaking so hard right now)

he seems like the type of guy to get rizzed up by baby gronk and then promptly train for his gymnastics or something

there's not much to comment on here, just that he looks like the type of guy to be rizzed

Nikolai - metal pipe sound effect

nikolai is unique in the sense that i think he encapsulates the metal pipe sound effect rather than a phrase or a brainrot figure

i have a feeling that during violence and timing gaz would agree with me

i have a feeling that the butcher in mw2019 would also agree with me

he's a menace but no brainrot compilation is the same without the metal pipe sound effect so :333

Phillip Graves - only in ohio

that gif shows up when i search for ohio

i feel like this one is very self-explanatory

in some instances gyatt and ohio can be used interchangeably so i would also consider him having the dual position of embodying gyatt and ohio at the same time, lucky bloke

König - alpha wolf

furry könig skin

furry wolf skin, no further commentary needed

Horangi - 99% of gamblers quit before they hit big

that is just what he did

Makarov - skibidi toilet

we have all seen the smile skin

skibidi toilet is evil incarnate, poisoning the minds of the children, even in the lore of skibidi toilet it is evil and direct antagonistic villains towards camera head people, sounds just like makarov

the smile skin is like the mould on lunchly cheese, its the outward thing you see but the evil of skibidi toilet like makarovs evil is like the mould spores inside the cheese

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

it is now nearly 3am, im so failing my histology class man

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

[oceantornadoo]

ex and the city (simon riley x female reader)

inspired by s2 ep18 of sex and the city (currently on a binge). miranda and steve are the cutest (pls don't spoil)

ANGSTY

--

fuck, it was him.

simon stood at the other side of your door, glaring into your peephole. you stepped back quickly, hand covering your mouth in shock. after running away from him on the street the other day, you hadn't expected him to show up. maybe you could just not answer, pretend it never happened and- "can hear ya breathin', dove." shit.

you quickly unlocked the door, trying to compose yourself. "simon! hi!" shit you needed to calm down. that is not how an ex-fiancee would treat her almost-husband. "shitty thing you did, runnin' like a rabbit fr'm me." your eyebrows rose. he was going for it. "i didn't run!" he looked at you, dead-eyed. letting the silence hang over you like a dark cloud, the air growing tense in your apartment hallway behind him.

"you ran." you ran a hand down your face, the other tightening your grip on your door. "well, i wasn't expecting to see you and- i just-" your voice choked, an attempt at hiding back your tears. "hurt my feelin's, dove." simon kept his arms crossed, staring down at you. he never did talk about his feelings much, but seeing the woman who was supposed to be his wife, his forever, run away from him? that hurt even a dead man like him.

"well i don't do very well with ex-boyfriends and..." you trailed off, staring at your toes. the tears were hot behind your eyes now, months of frustration and longing boiling to the surface. "dove..." he reached out and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. the feeling of his gloves against your skin was so familiar you almost closed your eyes, but snapped them open when you remembered. "this is me. simon." you nodded, throat thick. you shrugged, struggling to find the words to convey how you survived without him for the past four months. you decided on a simple, "yeah."

"i held your head while you wer' sleepin'." simon took off his mask, tucking it in his pocket. his hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw it. his face a bit scruffy, sporting a few new scars from the last deployment you had screamed at him for. your neighbor appeared behind him, tilting her head back as she pretended not to listen. you turned away, rubbing at your eyes as they got red. he took the silent invite and ran with it, stepping through and closing the door before your neighbor saw you vulnerable. always protecting you physically, even when he couldn't emotionally.

"im sorry. im so sorry it- i just-" you rubbed at your chest, an aching spot forming behind your rib cage. "shh dove, s'ok, yer ok." he reached for you and then stopped himself. he didn't get that privilege anymore. "i just hadn't seen you in so long and i thought you might have died and i missed you simon..." your voice cracked at his name, the taste of it so familiar. like a warm hot chocolate on a winter's day, a cool lemonade on a summer's night. "im a shitty person! you'd never do anything that shitty."

he chuckled. you, always idolizing him, making him out to be a golden boy when really he was rotting, a half-dead thing for you to play with. "showed up to yer apartment in the middle of the day an' called yer landlord to make sure you were in. what'dya call that?" a sob rose from your throat, the humor of what he said hitting you hard. "yeah that was pretty shitty." you nodded, rewarding him with a weak smile and a half-angry tone.

"i miss you. in my bones, si." his eyes were wet, crinkling in the leftover eye-black. "im here, dove. what'rya doin' friday?" you let out a sob again, covering your mouth. "i have a date." fuck, he'd kill him. he'd let johnny plant mines and put gaz on intelligence and ask price to redeem that one favor from a year ago. he'd make it look like an purposeful accident, a gas leak or a water heater explosion. something where even the man's family couldn't get any money. he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous tick he only showed in front of you.

"can't pretend to be happy for ya, dove. can't be a better man on this." and suddenly you were hugging him, hands reaching over his shoulders as you stood on familiar tiptoes. his hands automatically circled your waist, the feel of it engrained in his soul. something he could describe from memory. "lets just...stay here awhile. okay?" he nodded into your hair, breathing in that familiar scent. he had another chance at making you his wife and he wasn't going to lose it again.

--

i kinda want to write one of these for all of the 141?? we'll see.

[lululandd]

mutual;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: stalking, drugging

note: i have nothing planned for the rest of the story so please bear with me and maybe go on this adventure together :3 (also on AO3)

summary: “it wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

you woke up in annoyance that night, seeing that it was still dark outside when you opened your eyes. you had went so far as to order carb heavy food for dinner earlier, finishing it off with some medicine to hopefully, finally, at long last, get a good night’s sleep.

and yet here you are, eyes wide open in the dead of night. it had been a rough couple of weeks, your mind running circles and staying alert every night, leaving you irritable and unable to focus or function during the day.

getting some of your senses back as you lie flat on your back—staring at the ceiling contemplating all the good night’s sleep you had before all this happened—you shivered and realised something’s wrong with your body. you felt chilly, and when you touched your arm it felt damp. bile quickly came up the back of your throat when you tried to sit up, your eyes widening as a rush of adrenaline flows through you, giving you enough panic and energy to get out of bed.

making it only to the sink, you thank yourself for even being able to hold it back that long and not hurling everything out on the floor.

bracing yourself on the counter, you start to wonder what you ate that could possib—

click.

what was that?

you hunched lower towards the sink, expelling what looked like the rest of your dinner. the sound of your front door being opened and closed made your mind race and your nausea worse, coughing spit and phlegm into the sink. your hands shook as you turned the tap, all your energy spent on heaving and keeping yourself upright. large beads of sweat rolled down your temple as you watched the water swirl, shuddering as you feel the back of your shirt sticking to your skin.

mentally, you want to fight off the intruder. physically? you’re lucky to even be vertical right now. staring at the running water, you wish and hope it’s just a robber.

you wobbled towards the toilet—your legs felt like it would fold like a cheap umbrella if you stood any longer—and lifted the plastic seat before kneeling in front of it, bracing both sides of the bowl, the coldness from the tiles and the porcelain bringing some relief on your burning skin.

the bathroom door opened wider and something big stepped into the room with you.

“my bag is in the hallway. there’s—“ you dry heaved, “—cash in it. i haven't seen your face.”

“allright?” the man spoke. 

“pl—“ nausea took hold again before you could speak. you chose to just wave and look away. but his footsteps came closer and closer, forcing you to screw your eyes shut to avoid seeing him entirely.

“offended you thought i was here for money.” he drawled, his deep and gruff voice sounding oddly calm. “im worried.”

your whole body jolted, involuntarily opening your eyes and turning your face towards him. through your tear filled eyes you could see a hulking dark shape of a man with a skull printed balaclava for a face.

“please just take the money,” you begged and sniffled, limp hand pointing at the general direction of where your valuables would be on the other side of the wall.

“the food wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down next to you, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

he helped hold your hair up as you threw up pure acid this time, making you cough and sputter harder into the bowl. his other hand holds your forehead, steadying you as you swayed. it brought you a sense of troubled comfort, being helped by a stranger that broke into your home. 

seeing you no longer have anything in your system to force back out, he gently picked you up from the floor. you feebly try to push away from him—like a sickly wet spaghetti trying to push a concrete wall—as he makes his way to your room.

he had put you down on your bed and made his way towards your armoire when you realised something that made your body sit still.

your room was still dark. hell, the whole flat was practically dark. the only other source of true light other than the streetlamps shining through your curtains was from the opened bathroom door. there wasn't any hesitation in his steps when he brought you in. no glancing around or fumbling on his part.

you could only watch him in muted horror as he bent over your armoire, immediately opening the drawer that holds your home clothes. “you’ve been here before.” you half whispered.

“couple times, yeah.” he nonchalantly admitted as he rifled through your clothes, grabbing shirts and moving it closer to his face before putting them back and doing it again with another.

you wildly look around the room, wondering if you could outrun him. no, no, not through the door of course, he was closer to it than you are, but the window, yes, the window. that’s closer to you than it is to him. you eyed the window, prepping all the steps you would need to do before you could flung yourself out of it. if you’re fast enough, and quiet enough, you coul—

he straightened his back at that exact moment and turned towards you with one of your favourite shirts in his hands. you saw the peeling glitter font shimmered for a fraction of a second before he dropped it in your lap.

he then turned around and stepped away, giving you what little privacy he could while still keeping you close.

you changed at a sluggish pace, keeping your eye on his back the whole time with the perfectly rational fear that he’ll turn around, catching you mid change; as if you could do anything if he did.

thankfully he didn’t.

being dry felt nice. you’re still shivering a little and you felt like you’ve just swallowed an acorn after running a marathon, but at least you’re dry and no longer cold and sticky. you spent what little freedom you didn’t know you had left to watch his broad back instead of telling him you’re done. now that you have some space and a little energy to think, you wonder if you’ve seen him anywhere before; wracking your brain to try and remember if maybe you recognise his silhouette or imposing shape from somewhere. would paying more attention to your surroundings help? do you need to remember who you’ve seen and where you’ve seen them? where does the line for caution stop and paranoia begins? 

you didn’t even notice him turning around and walking towards you, you gaze empty as you keep thinking about all the little things you should’ve noticed, how big of a mistake it was to not pay attention to large men, how—

a soft touch on your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts, the back of his hand reaching out to feel your temperature. the gesture felt so loving and familiar that you involuntarily closed your eyes, his touch on your scorching skin made the discomfort and ache a little more bearable. 

but relief was cut short by a sharp prick on the side of your neck, your hand flying up towards the source of the pain to catch it but finding nothing.

something thin and shiny on his lowering hand caught your attention as your vision blurred and the edges darken. “wha—”

“don’t fight it.” he cuts you off as you try to speak, his voice commanding you from far away. you could only watch as the gleaming material disappeared into his clothes. 

for the first time that night you voluntarily looked up towards his face, but he pushed you down on the bed and covered your eyes before you could remember anything worthwhile.

it’s getting increasingly harder to stay awake, mumbling something to him you couldn’t even remember as your eyelids get heavier; lashes fluttering onto his palms everytime you blink.

you could feel his breath on the side of your face, but when he spoke to you it sounded faint, as if from even further away.

“sleep well.”

even in your barely conscious state you could hear the smile in his voice.

[gaycragula]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Ghost x assassin male reader who surprises Ghost with a sweet passionate kiss while hanging upside down?

Spider-Man Kisses

Pairing: Ghost x M!Reader Word Count: 679 Warning(s): Suggestive content, kissing, implications of a boner, descriptions of blood and gore, outright violence for the first 2 paragraphs, blood, assassin reader, assassination, graphic descriptions of blood Masterlist

Extra notes: Intended for m!reader but could be read as gn!reader. also im so sorry it took me forever to get to this </3

You let out a quiet grunt as you yanked your blade from a man’s body, pulling a handkerchief from your pocket to wipe it down. The man clawed at your boots, whatever he was trying to say coming out as gurgles as blood dripped from his mouth. You kicked his hand away, grimacing at the streak of blood he left on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of him struggling stopped and you let out a breath. You removed the ring from his finger and pocketed it, evidence that he was dead. He was a high priority target, you’ll get paid nicely for the kill. 

You made your exit, quick and quiet, making use of the alleyway system to stay out of sight until you were a comfortable distance from the crime scene. Your pace slowed when you noticed a familiar figure appear ahead of you, walking in the opposite direction. 

His apartment was in that direction, you assumed that’s where he was heading. You debated for a moment whether or not to cut him off, surprise him if you will. It wasn’t often you got the chance to catch him off guard. 

It was a quick decision as you rerouted yourself to cut him off in the most convenient manner and you perched yourself atop a fire escape. Not long after, you spotted the outline of your boyfriend in the distance again. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. 

You didn’t get to see him very often. Both your current jobs keeping you separated most days. He must’ve just gotten back that day, it was rare that he wouldn’t call when he was home. 

As he got closer, an idea popped into your head and you quickly put it into action. You hooked one leg around the railing of the fire escape, making sure it would hold your weight. You waited a little longer, listening to the sounds of his steps before you slipped yourself off the fire escape, ending up a few feet in front of him, upside down. 

“Surprise!” You smile, trusting the punch he threw out of defense would stop before it hit you. 

“Bastard,” you hear Ghost hiss out as he drops his fist. Despite the harsh name, you watched his face soften when he saw you. His usual cold demeanor warming up ever so slightly. You swear you could see a smile dance over his face for a split second before it went still again. 

You chuckle out an apology before gesturing for him to come closer. Once he was in reach, you grabbed his face gently and pulled him into a kiss that quickly turned heated. “Couldn’t help myself,” you whisper between kisses, smiling against Simon’s lips. His lips were rough, as they often were, but you couldn’t help but love the way they felt against yours. “Missed you so much.”

Ghost’s hands found your arms and he mumbled something against your lips before separating. “C’mon down.”

“Right, one moment please, my good sir,” you tease before unhooking your leg and, with the help of Ghost, getting down on the ground. 

You weren’t down for more than two seconds before Simon had you backed against a nearby wall, his lips back on yours. Your hand moved to cup his face while his moved to your waist.  Both of you were breathless when you parted, chests heaving as you looked at each other. 

Ghost leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours. You smile up at him, rubbing your thumb along his jawline before you trailed your hand into his blonde hair, brushing your fingers through it. His eyes lidded as he moved to kiss you again, his hand traveling under your shirt to sit on your waist. “Your place?” You breathe out as he separates and  leans down to kiss your neck. 

He nods against you. “Now,” the desperate tone he had mixed with the roughness of his voice had your heart skipping a beat, your pants suddenly feeling too tight as you grabbed Simon’s hand and tugged him in the direction of his apartment. 

[captialrogers]

Guillotine (part 1)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x NonBinaryAfab!Reader

MDNI

An independent contractor for the OSCE, code name Vixen is deep undercover in an European human trafficking ring. When things hit the fan and their cover blown, Task Force 141 is sent to extract them and any surviving victims. With the traffickers on their tails the group is forced to split up and lay low. The groups aren’t even however, and Vixen isn’t given a choice. They are stuck in a safe house with the one member who could keep them alive, Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley.

CW: canon typical violence, mentions of blood and gore, human trafficking, sex trafficking, abuse, mentions of violence against women and children.

Reader discretion is advised.

————

It was bad. It was unbelievably bad. They had been compromised and now the trafficked girls were paying for it. Vixen watched as body after body fell to the ground, the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood lingering in the air. They struggled to free themselves from the too tight zip ties that bound their hands to the leg of a bolted table. This was not how it was supposed to happen. They were 3 years deep into the ring and everything they had accomplished was now worthless. If it hadn’t been for a dealer recognising them from a previous bust, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Ah, you know I like it when you struggle, Ma chère.” Vixen dared to look up at the voice. Before them stood the second in command of the operation, his slicked back hair making him look every part of the villain.

“Fuck you” They spat, pulling at the zip ties once more. The skin of their wrists rubbed raw and bruised.

The man sucked his teeth before walking closer to them. Once he was an arm length away, he stopped, crouched, and grabbed their face. “Is the little fox sad they got caught in the hen house? Well, that’s too bad because I’m very glad. We may have lost a few hens, but we caught the cunning fox.” Squeezing their face harder, the man pulled them closer. “There are always more in the den so this way,” the French man gestured around them to the corpses that littered the floor, “we can lure them out.”

They glared at the man and spat in his face. They knew they shouldn’t have done it. They knew that it went against training. But how could they not retaliate when dozens of innocents lay dead before them. It was their fault that it had happened. They had been compromised and the girls paid the ultimate price.

“You little!” He jerked back slightly and dropped their face before taking hold of their hair and yanking their head backwards. "Don't start what you can't finish ma chère," He pulled their head back harder, "because you will not like how I finish it." The French man released their hair and stood abruptly. "Bring the child."

At these words Vixen stiffened. One of the women had a child during her years of forced prostitution. One of the women that now lay cold on the floor of the room. Her blood was on their hands. Their heart beat hard in their chest, the sound of it in their ears muffling the wails of the boy in front of them. “You’re a fucking monster.” They struggled against the ties again, angry bruises blooming around their wrist. “Im going to kill you when I get outta here.”

“When ma chère? No no its if you get out of here.” Taking hold of the child, the French man held his glock to the boy’s head. “Now, tell me how many more are part of your operation?”

The wails of the boy echoed in their ears. “Go fuck yourself, Fabian.” the cocking of a gun sounded, and they flinched.

“I will not ask again, little fox.”

Vixen couldn’t speak. They couldn’t go against training. But could they let another innocent die? They opened their mouth to tell the man they were the only one, but shots rang out. They ducked their head and cowered as much as they could under the table. The only sign that it wasn’t Fabian’s men firing was the small body tucked against theirs.

Something hit the floor hard and with one eye open they were blinded. The explosion was deafening, and the smoke burned their lungs. “Cover your mouth and nose!” They yelled to the small boy, trying to cover his body with theirs.

As suddenly as it started the shots stopped. Once again, they chanced a look around the room and saw several pairs of boots rushing towards them. The ringing in their ears began to lessen as they saw what had hit the floor. Fabian's lifeless body was sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around his head and chest.

"What!" Vixen yelled at the crouching man in front of them, feeling the young boy cling to them harder. They watched as the man's lips moved barely understanding what he was saying. "We need help. We need to get the boy to safety!" Vixen's eyes darted around the man's face and chest. When they noticed the Union Jack plastered to his vest, Vixen sighed. "Please!"

The man said something, but they shook their head, “Forget about me. The boy…” they looked down at where the boy had been moments ago only to realise that he was gone. Vixen searched frantically around the bloodied space only noticing the boy in the arms of another soldier when they saw a mess of dark hair over the man’s shoulder.

“…turn to…hands out…” The man before them pulled a large combat knife from a holder on his shoulder and angled the blade tip between their wrists and the zip ties. With a flick of his hand, their confines were removed and Vixen all but fell forward, their legs and arms numb from their cramped position. “…get you… here.”

They could barely hear what the soldier was saying, only making out bits and pieces, and nodded as the man helped them up, catching them when they stumbled over bodies on tingling legs. once they reached the exit the thundering of gunfire echoed through the compound again. Bullets ricocheted off the walls leaving pock marks where they landed. Vixen’s head was covered and pushed down by the man supporting them and the only thing they could do was clutch onto his Kevlar vest tighter. Smoke surrounded the pair as they made their way through and out of the building, the once blinding light of the French countryside was replaced with the pitch darkness of night. Had it really been that long? Had Fabian really interrogated them for hours? Tortured them for hours?

They licked their lower lip, tasting the distinct metallic that went with blood. When had they gotten a split lip? And who had sent the soldiers to retrieve them? Vixen looked over at the man beside them finally paying attention to his appearance. His head was covered with a boonie hat and his vest held the insignia SAS in the centre.

“Where are we going?” They yelled, ringing ears making it difficult to hear how loud they were speaking.

“…soon enough… meeting point…” the SAS member motioned to a group of tactical vehicles waiting in the distance, their lights and engines off. Again, the thundering of enemy fire sounded from behind them, following the retreating group.

They quickly looked behind them and watched as the traffickers giving chase fell. Vixen turned back around just as quickly noticing a tall figure step out from behind one of the vehicles. Their breath caught in their throat. The figure morphed into the shape of a man, and they couldn’t help but stare. Looking through them was no man, but rather the image of death.

As vixen was pulled closer to the figure by their rescuer, death raised his gun and fired. He opened the back of the vehicle, weapon still raised.

“Get… no…time.” The man beside them said all but tossing them into the open doors before slamming them closed. “Ghost…” Was all they heard as the space around them grew dark and the truck rumbled to life. Feeling around the back of the truck, Vixen’s hand hit something solid and through further investigation they discovered a built-in bench. Suddenly the truck rocked and they were tossed from one side to the other. Whoever was driving clearly didn’t care that they were in the back. But neither would they if the continuous ping of bullets hitting the truck was any indication of the situation.

Again, the truck jostled them from side to side and they really hoped that the driver remember that they were there.

— — —

When the vehicle finally stopped, Vixen had lost track of time. The darkness of the back of the truck did little to help their sense of time. For all they knew it was days later. The door opened and light blinded them. They quickly raised their hand and turned their head. “Where are we?” They asked to the air and received nothing in response. “Can you at least stop shining that damned light in my face.” Vixen lowered their hand when the flashlight finally lowered and eventually turned off. Chancing a look at the other person, they noticed that it was death. Or rather a man with a death mask. The white of the skull was stark against the pitch black of night and his clothes. If they hadn’t known that the man was there, they would have thought that the skull was a floating omen of what was to come.

Having the time to fully feel their injuries Vixen hissed as they inched their way closer to the open door and slid out of the truck. Standing was something that they wished that they didn’t have to do. Their ribs ached and their legs felt as if they belonged to someone else. How had the adrenaline crash been so subtle? There was no way that they hadn’t passed out in the back of the tactical truck. Had they? Vixen couldn’t remember.

They took a step and nearly collapsed, grasping for the man beside them. He stood solid as a rock. So much so that it took Vixen by surprise when he turned his head to the left looking over their head at a dark structure in the distance. They hadn’t noticed this. They hadn’t noticed that the man pulled their hand from his arm until he was walking towards the structure.

Taking a steadying breath Vixen followed the masked stranger and held their sides trying to keep their ribs from aching as they walked. It was safe to say that they wouldn’t be getting anything from the man. Not verbally at least. Instead, he communicated in his body language. The small pauses to let them catch up or the slight look over his shoulder to make sure they were still standing.

The least the masked man could do was tell them where they were going. The structure ahead of them turned out to be a quaint house in the middle of nowhere. Safe house. They thought as they finally made it to the steps of the building. Slowly they made their way up onto the landing and behind the man. A series of beeps alerted them to the fact that the house was locked with a keypad rather than a traditional lock and key. Once the door was open, the masked man stepped aside and placed a hand onto the gun strapped to his chest. Another detail that they hadn’t noticed.

“In you get.” He spoke for the first time since leaving the trafficker’s compound. His voice was low and gruff, reverberating through the quiet night. Without a second thought, Vixen entered the house and all but collapsed to the floor. The bravado that had gotten them through the worst of the night fell and they were greeted with the dark of unconsciousness.

— —

It shouldn’t have surprised him that the UC in his care was as tough as they were, but it did. Ghost’s arm shot out to grasp the back of their shirt as soon as they started to wobble. With a grunt the Lieutenant dropped the hand on his gun and pulled them towards him and slung them over his shoulder before he pushed the door to the safe house closed.

The briefing before the mission had been interesting and something unusual for T141’s expertise. Exfill wasn’t something that was new to them but the target was. It wasn’t every day that the task force was sent to retrieve a civilian from a mission gone south. He had to give it to them, they put up a hell of a fight — the state of their body gave the impression that it wasn’t a fair one. Ghost shifted the unconscious body further up his shoulder as he trudged through the safe house. It was a one level with a cold storage turned bunker. Or so the blueprint said. The layout of the building was open concept, for the most part as it had a hallway that led to two separate rooms. One he assumed to be the bathroom and the other…

Ghost shoved the door open with his free hand. His gaze fell upon a singular bed. It was a small thing, definitely military issued, and had the bare minimum for bedding. He grunted as he entered the darkened room and made his way to the bed. Sliding the body down from his shoulder, Ghost placed the unconscious UC on to the bed. Adjusting the pillow under their head, he once again gripped the gun slung to his chest and looked to the ceiling of the safe house in a silent curse.

This was the last place he wanted to be. He didn’t want to play babysitter to anyone let alone a civilian UC regardless of their combat and intellectual prowess. The lieutenant turned away from the sleeping form and exited the room, closing the door slightly so that it wouldn’t be a hassle for either party to haul ass and go if need be. Before taking a moment of respite, Ghost walked to the front door and checked the automated lock. Satisfied with it, the man walked back into the open concept living room where he sat on the worn couch and removed the rifle from his chest, placing it across his lap for easy access.

Ghost hoped that Price knew what he was doing when he tasked him with watching the UC. This wasn’t the best use of his skill set. But, he supposed, that he was the best choice for this part of the mission given that specialized skill set. It was a contradiction to say the least and it was one that he didn’t want. They were cut off from the rest of the task force until he received notice. How or when that notice would come was a mystery the man didn’t much care for. But until that day came, the lieutenant would hold his position and ensure the target was looked after, even if that meant babysitting.

[valscodblog]

So-I s'pose ye'll be needin' this.

@thealtofvalleyxdoodles's sideblog <3

SHIT ABT ME! (Sorry for the horrible fake scottish accent. I am A Soap girlie thru and thru.)

❣.·:*¨¨*:·.❣ ғѧṅԀȏṃṡ ❣.·:*¨¨*:·.❣

Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare one, two and three (Fuck the ending of three omfg) also-LONG LIVE '09 GHOST AND SOAP!

Call of Duty: Ghosts (Keegan <3)

Hazbin Hotel (so random compared to my other fandoms)

Baulder's Gate Three (I dont remember how to spell it-)

Resident Evil

The Witcher (I blame my father for getting me into this)

Dead By Daylight (Is that a fandom? If not-let's make it one)

DC/MARVEL Comics and some of the movies.

Uncharted (i swear-the first game i played i nearly died bc OMG "God Girl" AHHHH! Nathan Drake the man you are, Nathan Drake.)

Gravity Falls (I watched it as a kid-and re-watched as a grown ass adult. Still love it.)

and prolly some more i cant remember rn.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ʍǟֆȶɛʀʟɨֆȶֆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ Red means N/A blue means its up!

Office Workers, John Price x reader, Season one

"One night only" Simon Riley x Reader (will be worked on soon)

"Bonnie" John MacTavish x Reader

"The CIA Files"

╰┈➤ SᎾMƐ SᎾИƓS Ī ṖĿΛY Λ ŔƐṖƐΛŦ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Too Sweet; Hoizer| anything and E V E R Y T H I N G by the artic monkeys| Pumped up kicks; foster the people| Dirty Class-China remix or whatever it's called.| Alien Blues (i forget who its by)| Same old Love; Rihanna/Selena Gomez| I like the way you kiss me; Artemas| Soaked; shy smith| Paint the Town Red; Doja Cat; Diet mountain due (Demo and actual song); Lana Del Rey| anything by Lana tbh-| anything by Eminem| 679; Fetty Wap| Breakin' Dishes; Rihanna| tbh-anything by Rihanna too-| Favorite; Isabel LaRosa| Army Dreamers; Kate Bush| Harpy Hare; Yaelokre| and more!

❣┈⋆┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 ＢＡＳＩＣ ＴＨＩＮＧＳ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈⋆┈❣

Pronouns: She/They Age: 18 (19 in Nov.) Race: MEXICAN

Fav Foods: Tacos, and Banana Bread Fav curse word: FUCK

Fav Color: P U R P L E Fav CoD Character: uhm-Soap?? (was that a question-? jk jk, it was.)

.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ƬĦƖИǤƨ Ɩ Δ˩˩ѲƜ ѲИ 🇲Ƴ β˩ѲǤ .·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Requests for x readers (Male, female, non-binary, all of it.) and x oc's! (I will tag you). I do allow people to use my Oc's for thier fics, I just ask for a tag and some credit! I do allow requests with dark themes. I ALLOW DARK THEMES ON THIS BLOG. DEAD FUCKING DOVE-DO NOT FUCKING EEEAT, OKAY!? I WILL NOT HAVE MY BLOG BE BLOCKED BC YALL DONT KNOW HOW TO READ WARNINGS! Anyways! I do allow a wide array of kinks! (Yes i do NSFW) and yes-i do take art requests-its just very hard atm bc my ipad is very old and porcreate no longer works-and my new one is on the way. (i used Amazon-im sorry but i dont feel like gong into a damn store-PLUS IT WAS BLACK FRIDAY!! :) ) I do allow you to nickname me aswell!

(sorry for this gifs-i just needed to see my husband)

THANKS FOR READING, BYEEEEE!

╰•★★ 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓥𝓪𝓵 ★★•╯

GO FOLLOW MY MOOTS!

@skauni @needa-sum-luvn @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss @mishellii @crazyfandomluver @staytrueblue @devil-in-hiding @artistic-vixen <3333

[the-slasher-files]

PLEASE DONT TAKE MY SUNSHINE AWAY

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH FT. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Ok yall, here is the fic that fixes it lol. Ignoring canon with a passion and throwing this in it. Also im very obsessed with the sunshine nickname lol. Warning: heavy angst, inaccurate medical, soap almost dying... hope you enjoy 🔪🤍

MASTERLIST

The lump in your throat hadn't ceased since you received that phone call hours ago. Hands shaking, you packed an overnight bag that had become more Johnny's things than your own. He would need his favourite body wash- the one that would finally ease him as the sand flowed away. Johnny would want that stupid hair gel you had gotten as a sample. He said it made his mohawk withstand the Scotland wind and rain like no other. Your smile curled as a tear fell down your cheek when you piled in his favourite hoodie- "Y'know I've had this since I was 21, if I ever lose it, a piece of me will die, Bonnie" His thick fingers pulled slightly on the drawstring. Cobalt blues shifted from the SAS logo to your eyes with all the love in the world. He was your world, and all you could do was wait.

"Love," Ghost's timber trembled over the plane engines, "We are transferring him to Glasgow now-"

"T-tell me..." Your breath caught with a deep inhale as you tried to form a sentence, anything. "Tell me he'll be ok"

You were met with silence for a few beats before a sigh shook on the other end of the line. It held your shattering hope.

"Just- P-Please wait for me to text you with the details, okay?"

"Si-"

"Okay?" His voice was harsh with a grunt becoming the cold Liuentent, giving you the order to follow knowing just how much it hurt. He didn't mean to- he would never mean to.

"Okay..."

Rushing into the hospital, you saw him there. Shrouded in black under the blinding white, standing outside a door with arms folded and brown eyes lined red, looking into the abyss that was nothing. Lost somewhere in his mind, your voice broke him away. "Ghost!"

Like a shield, he became almost robotic in nature, functioning on fumes and fight or flight, protecting himself in and out— He couldn't lose the best man he's ever had. This was his fault and he could still feel the blood on his hands, the reak of copper, and the bits of brain matter that wanted to force their way out, only to be stopped by a dead man's hands.

Hollow eyes met yours, quickly looking away to look beyond you, not wanting to face the love of Johnny's life in this circumstance. It was like he didn't know you, pushing it all down even though Simon had become something of a brother to Johnny and a brother-in-law to you. You placed a gentle hand on his broad shoulder.

"He's stable, outta surgery, and sleeping. He won't wake for a while. " He breathed methodically, reaching out a gloveless hand to have you take Johnny's shining tags with a sick stomach. He left out the part where the doctor said that anything could happen. 'Stable for now' 'the swelling is a concern'

Sliding your hand down to meet his, the metal clicked between your shaking fingers, almost dropping them until Ghost curled your fingers delicately around the cold steel.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you tried it out, "C-can I go see him?"

Simon nodded, still unable to see your pleading face as he turned the door knob allowing you inside. Adrenaline shuffled your feet inside the dimly lit room with Simon slowly slipping in behind you, an arm outreached in case your knees gave out, which they threatened to do.

Your eyes adjusted to the dark. Only one lamp and several monitors illuminated the small space. Lighting up Johnny's tan features; Swollen and bruised, his head was propped up on white pillows that had been stained with his blood before the guaze was changed. Mohawk obscured in white wrapping and blue eyes held shut, one starting to leak bruises beneath the soft lashes that lay on his under eye. You were unsure how your body carried to you to your husband's side, but your fingers carefully lingered, hesitant to touch, to break what had already been. After moments of hovering and your breathing held, your fingers lightly grazed the dark stuble on his strong jaw. Eyes flashing everywhere they could to gather and collect an inventory of what you could fix.

"Si— Simon, help me get him c-cleaned up." You sniffled, hands fluttering around each bandage looking for anything that you do. Pulling down the light sheet, taking in the scrapes and discoloration on Johnny's expansive chest, your breath increasing with each inhale— Panic setting it.

"I-I have to," you studdered, feeling a large body begin to pull your body away softly. "Simon. I—Help me clean him up, please—He, he has blood on hi—him, I"

"Love." Caring and warm hands turned you towards him, feeling your panic and trembling frame within his grasp. He knew too well what ran in your head.

"Simon, please. He's—He needs"

"Ssshhhh, I know, love..." Simon tucked your head against his chest, "I know... I'm sorry"

The flood came in your eyes, spilling onto Simon's hoodie as you began to sob. Months apart, promises, future endeavors, memories, and seeing a man so full of life laid out helpless made you break. "Ghost, he— Johnny needs to come home. He promised me, " You whined, gripping and beating on Simon as he stood still, hushing you with brown eyes firm on his brothers body.

Both of you lost track of how long you held each other in the dark. Just the sounds of slow, steady beeps, rain on the windows and soft breathing filled the space until a nurse came in. Without a word, the masked man grabbed a chair for you, placing it beside Johnny's bed and he hovered over the nurse intently. Every touch, every breath was protected.

"He is doing well so far. The body just needs time," The nurse spoke softly with a sympathetic smile, nodding to both before making her way into the labyrinth that was the hospital. And Simon followed, taking your keys to give you a moment alone and for him to get the bag you packed.

Your body released a sigh, one that you felt had been stuck for hours inside your burning lungs. It was just you and your husband. 8 months. Way too long without the love of your life by your side.

Whispering his name, you smiled with silent tears streaming your flushed cheeks. Grapsing his large hand in yours, it looked so small, even now with his fingers twitching slightly but muscles lax. Tracing every scar and vein, you picked away at the dirt lightly as you watched Johnny's face. So peaceful, calm under the bruises and bandages, the world seemed to cease to exist around you as you took in every twitch, every sweet inhale and breathy exhale. You were just thankful for him to be alive, to hold on just a little longer so the time would come, if it had, to hold him as you did.

You recall the memories gazed into pure azure pools, the room painted in honey as the morning sun graced you both in tangled sheets. His lips floated on your soft skin, the delicate nips to your collar bone left breathy moans falling from pouted lips. Promises he made to you as he worshipped "I'll always make it home to you." "I'm gonna be 'ere to protect you" "Never worry about me. I will fight to always be next to you"

"Come on, sunshine... Please" You pleaded to any god that was listening as you traced his knuckles with gentle kisses, tears following in the path.

"I'm 'ere." Blue eyes met yours with his signature smile.

[bluerosetarot]

Everyone on Task Force 141 knew you had a date tonight since you'd been going on and on about it for the past week, so when you come back to base with puffy cheeks and eyes still red from crying a certain someone comes to comfort you.

Tags: female reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence (Simon wants to hurt whoever hurt you, after all), PIV rebound sex.

Tagging @the-californicationist because you wanted me to tag you once I posted this.

You hadn't been with the task force for long, but your presence had certainly had an impact on the team as a whole in the year and a half you'd been around. Being the youngest and shortest had earned you official "little sister" status despite the fact you could toss all of them around at hand to hand practice thanks to your lower center of gravity and aikido background, with the exception of Simon. That man was not only tall but was surprisingly flexible, which you took as a personal challenge.

"One of these days I'm going to topple you, Ghost." You'd all just come back from a sparring match and were sitting around a table enjoying your beverages of choice.

"Of course you will, sweet'eart." He'd smile behind his cuppa without looking at you, but you could see the slight wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. "An' one 'a these days Price'll start layin' golden eggs so we can all retire."

So imagine everyone's surprise when you mention you were seeing someone, a civvie you'd met on a dating app. You'd been gushing over your crush and hadn't noticed Soap playfully nudge Simon in his side or the glare the taller man gave him in return.

"Going out to see him on next leave, said he wanted to take me somewhere nice for dinner. And before any of you try anything I don't need backup, or shadowed, or anything else. I know we're all a little paranoid here but I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"Not you we'd be worried about, luv." Gaz gave you a knowing smile before continuing. "We're worried about the poor guy getting folded like a pretzel if 'is 'ands go anywhere they shouldn't, y'know?"

It took you a few months before you could properly go on a date; a mission got in the way, but you promised your new beau that as soon as you got back from your classified trip you'd be all his. Whenever you could, you messaged him, even sending him a few spicy pictures over the course of your flirting.

When the special night finally came around, you snuck off to your quarters to put on a lovely little black dress and did your makeup as best you could. Taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you psyched yourself up and inwardly hoped that you wouldn't run into anyone on your way out. That hope was quickly dashed upon the rocks of reality when you nearly ran into the brick wall named Ghost as you left the washroom.

"Bloody Jesus, Ghost. Trying to give me a heart attack?"

His answer was to scoff under his mask and lean against the wall beside you, those brown eyes of his looking you over as he slowly shook his head.

"Got no place to 'ide a knife, gun, or anythin' else. Sure you don't need any backup, luv?"

"I appreciate your concern, LT, but I should be fine."

He backed away with a chuckle, not expecting your tone to be so dry and he held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"Roight, roight. Well, knock 'im dead, luv. But if you aren't back by midnight, we'll all assume you turned into a pumpkin 'an start a search party. Deal?"

"Deal."

Your date went a bit... less than stellar. When you arrived at the restaurant, he'd been nearly a half hour late and was dressed more casual than you, but you weren't used to being all dolled up either so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Conversation was minimal with him mostly talking about himself as you sat there bored until he hit you with a bombshell.

"You're hot like this, but now that you're my girl you're going to have to give up this whole military thing."

You'd been about to take a bite of food and nearly dropped your fork from laughing at what you thought was a joke, but he just got irritated.

"I'm serious. You can't go wasting your prime childbearing years pretending to be an action hero."

"Excuse me?" You matched his tone, a bit of annoyance seeping into your words. "What happened to you going nuts over my career plans? How you said you always liked a 'girl in uniform'?"

"Uniforms are hot, but I figured once we met, you'd realize you wanted a nice civilian life and leave all that fantasy behind you."

"Uh-huh..." Flagging down your waiter, you asked for the check. "I'll take my half of the check, please. This date is over."

"You can't just fucking leave!"

"I can..." Giving your card to the waiter, you then locked eyes with your sad excuse for a date. "And I will. See? I'm doing it right now."

Once your tab had been taken care of, you made a beeline for the door with the guy chasing after you, yelling at you to change your mind. He made the mistake of trying to grab your wrist, and you managed an aikido move that brought him down to a knee.

"You don't get to touch me that way, got it?"

You'd leaned down to stare daggers into him, a look you'd perfected from watching Ghost, and your failed date nodded in fear as he got up and backed away.

Turning on your heel, you made it to your car and closed the door before slumping over your steering wheel with a sigh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of sadness and anger. Willing yourself to wait until you got back to base for a good cry, you started the car and headed back but couldn't help a few stray tears from rolling down your cheeks.

It was a little past 2300 when you got back to base and, to your disappointment, there were a few lights still on. You'd hoped to take your walk of shame without anyone noticing, but fate had other plans. You hadn't realized that everyone in 141 was worried for you and stayed up to wait for you to come home.

Which meant that you opened the door to the common area, and four sets of eyes instantly looked up at you. All of them taking note of your tear streaked makeup making you feel warm and nervous.

Soap was the first one to speak up, cutting the tension with a joke.

"Aye, lass, who we needin' to knife up for ya?"

Price sat to his right and gave him a very good "not now" look as you clenched your jaw in annoyance.

"Don't want to talk about it." You turned to the Captain and gave him a polite nod. "Heading to bed, sir."

Taking a thoughtful puff of his cigar, he returned your nod.

"Right, everyone here should do the same. Lights out, everyone."

Gaz and Soap reluctantly got up. You could read it plain as day on their faces they wanted to pepper you with a thousand questions, but stern looks from both Price and Ghost made them think twice, and they both wished you a good night and hurried off to their rooms. Price followed after them after giving you one final concerned glance before heading down the hall.

It was Ghost that put a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had a way of sneaking up on everyone even when he was in plain sight, and this situation was no different. You tried your best to compose yourself before meeting his gaze, but something in his eyes made you break down when your eyes met and you let out a soft sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper.

"Fucking christ, look at me. All bent out of shape over little more than a schoolyard crush."

"If 'e 'urt ya I know plenty a places to hide a body 'round 'ere."

Where Soap has been jovial, you could tell Ghost was serious, and you couldn't stop an involuntary shiver creep down your spine before shaking your head.

"Not worth the effort, Ghost. But I appreciate it. Damn chauvinist thought I'd get one look at him and want to stop all my work here and pop out babies."

That got a laugh from the larger man, a deep rumble in his chest.

"Th' public doesn't realize all tha' we do to keep the world spinnin', luv. If you 'ad never joined up with us, who knows 'ow our missions would've gone. You've been damn good at not only covering our sixes on multiple occasions but..."

He trailed off, catching himself before he said something further. But this only made you more curious since this was the most words you'd ever hear the man string together outside of mission briefings.

"But what?"

"But... christ this is a bit embarrassing but you remind all of us what we're fightin' for, y'know? You remind us that we aren't just killin' machines an' that we're 'uman. That we do this to protect 'umanity, outside and within. Y' deserve someone who understands tha', not some chav bloke who sees y' as just a baby factory."

The hand that was on your shoulder went up to smooth his short hair back as his eyes looked away from yours. You thanked whatever god was up there that he did because he didn't see the blush creeping into your cheeks.

"Uhh... th-thanks, Ghost."

Those eyes locked back onto yours, and you could see the telltale crinkle of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that betrayed his smile.

"Y' can call me Simon, luv. Just between the two of us, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

A heavy sigh left your lips, and you gave him a small smile.

"Simon. Think, uh... think you would want to join me for a bit tonight? It's been nice talking to someone who understands what's going on in my head."

That got an eyebrow raise from him, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Y' propositionin' your commanding officer now?"

His tone was low, tinted with humor, but his rough voice made it sound suggestive all the same. He left the question open, and it emboldened your reply.

"Well I need someone to really show me the difference between a "chav bloke" and a real man, don't I?"

With a look over his shoulder down the hall towards the barracks proper, no doubt making sure everyone else was already in bed, he nodded and gestured for you to lead the way.

"Ladies first, luv."

That earned him a playful punch in the arm, and you grabbed his hand in yours, leading him down the hall to your quarters.

Once inside your room with the door shut tight behind you, Simon was looming over you, pressing your body to the wall. In the dim light of your room you could barely see his eyes as they looked you over once more while his hand came up to cup your cheek.

"Y' sure about this, luv? Not that I mind bein' a rebound but I want to make sure y' really want this..."

He knew how to catch you off guard, that's for sure, and you gave him a reassuring nod. Your own hand reaching up to glide along his that caressed your face so gently, a welcome juxtaposition to his normally cold demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm actually glad that you, uh..."

Now it was your turn to stifle words better left unsaid, though those swallowed words turned into heat and crimson on your neck and cheeks as embarrassment kept you from saying what was really on your mind.

In truth you'd always had a "thing" for the big badass types, the "scary dogs", outcasts, loners, and Gho- Simon, you reminded yourself, ticked off all the boxes to pique your interest. He'd always given off just enough tidbits about himself, crumbs that you had devoured in the fire of your curiosity that only proved to stoke it into a further inferno. The date you'd gone on tonight? He was meant to be a distraction from the man you couldn't have had, shouldn't have been able to have, yet here he was gazing down into your very soul in your quarters.

"Glad? Glad for wha', luv?"

Simon had picked up on that thread you left dangling and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pressed further. Both his body squeezing against you and his words pressing the opening he'd found.

"Glad y' got th' big, scary Ghost as y' own personal toy for th' night? Glad that you'll get to experience a real man in y' bed tonoight?"

Each word brought his face closer to yours and you watched as his hand slid from your cheek to his mask, pulling it down past his mouth and finally letting you see his face. Your mind went blank for a second as you took in his features for the brief moment he hovered in front of you before he buried his face in your neck to kiss the sensitive skin there.

The kiss was gentle, lips pressing to your jugular as your heart raced so fast you could swear he'd be able to feel your pulse through his lips. Even gentle as it was you couldn't stop the soft sound that escaped your own lips.

"Am I on the money, sweet'eart? You been 'oping I'd get jealous or somethin' like that?"

Teeth grazed against your neck and a jolt of pleasurable lightning raced down your spine.

"Well... between you an' me... I've been very jealous, luv. 'Ere I thought some young bloke was gonna steal you away from us, from me, before I got to show you 'ow I felt about you..."

As his lips and teeth continued to explore your neck his hand grabbed yours and brought it down to palm at his tented trousers, the size of him made you gasp involuntarily and you felt his low rumbling laughter deep in his chest.

"S-simon... I've never had someone so... so... big before."

"Don't worry, sweet'eart... I'll take my time and show you 'ow a true gentleman treats a lady like yourself."

Simon picked you up with ease, walking the few steps to the bed and setting you down on the edge. No sooner had your backside met the mattress he was hiking up that short black dress over your thighs to expose the matching black lace panties you had worn.

"You were plannin' on spoilin' that bloke tonight, weren't you, sweet'eart? Or, an' correct me if I'm wrong..."

His thick, calloused fingers pressed against your clothed slit, finding your nub and rubbing it through the scant cotton and lace as his eyes locked onto yours again.

"...Or were you 'opin' that 'e'd left you alone and that this exact scenario would 'appen, you comin' back to base wantin' me to 'elp you feel better?"

"F-fuck, Simon... I... ahh... that's n-not what I was hoping for at all..."

He rolled his eyes, not believing you, and slid the panties aside to slide one finger inside to entice a moan from you.

"Christ! Fine, yes, I.. I wanted my date to be you tonight... but how am I supposed to bring that up? Just walk up to you and say "hey, LT, how's about a shag tonight after supper?""

That earned you a second finger inside and another laugh.

"I knew y' were a brat at trainin' but damn am I glad you aren't a shrinkin' violet in the bedroom. Makes this more fun."

For what felt like an eternity he slowly widened you in preparation for his shaft. Simon was a patient man, for the most part, but those moans and sounds you were making for him and him alone were wearing down that patience. Still, he had promised to treat you like a proper lady and only when he could slide three fingers inside easily did he stop his work.

"Do us a favor and clean these off for me, luv. My mouth 'as more important things t' do."

Unceremoniously he slid his slickened fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as he leaned down to bury his face between your legs. That tongue of his quickly found your nub and circled around it, alternating between that and his lips puckering around it to suck on it. The fingers in your mouth did nothing to muffle the noises he was coaxing from you as your thighs clamped down on either side of his head. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were cognizant of putting too much pressure on him but it was quickly drowned out by your building climax.

Simon felt it building in you as well; the way your thighs got tighter around his head, the throbbing of your nub in his mouth, and the quivering of your slit. In the mess of it all your hands had come down to grip his short hair, tugging on it as if trying to pull him closer.

"Tha's it, luv, cum for me."

Barely above the haze of lust you registered Simon's command as you felt yourself come undone for him. Your own slick mixing with his spit to coat your inner thighs as he lapped greedily at everything you had to give him. Eventually your orgasm began to subside and you took notice of him standing up from where he had knelt. The sound of leather on denim was barely audible above your panting, followed by a zipper being pulled down. Craning your head up off the mattress you finally saw his full length in the dim light of the room as he slowly rutted against your womanhood.

"I think y' should be ready for this, luv. But I wanna hear y' say it. Tell me 'ow badly y' need this inside..."

"I... fuck..."

Word were hard to come by in your lust filled haze, biting your lower lip in concentration you finally were able to articulate the words.

"Take me, Simon! I want every inch of that inside me now!"

"Needy, aren't ya? Don't worry, I got exactly wha' y' need roight... here..."

On that last syllable he slid his full length inside of you in one fluid stroke. You could swear he crashed up against the back of your womb with how big he was and before you could cry out he locked his lips onto yours, stifling any sound you made.

You two lay there connected, Simon not moving until you were used to him, for a few brief moments before he pulled away from the kiss to gaze into your eyes. You gave him a wordless nod to reassure him you were okay before he started his thrusting in earnest. Slow, full strokes to make sure you felt every inch of his desire for you.

"Been 'oping to 'ave y' like this for awhile now, sweet'eart.. sure when y' first started up 'ere I was skeptical..."

Your brain was barely paying attention to his words, still shrouded in a fog of lust. Simon, on the other hand, was talking to take his mind off the pleasure you were giving him so he could last longer than a few pumps.

"But after I saw y' toss Gaz an' Soap around in 'and t' 'and I thought maybe y' were alroight after all..."

Now even Simon was barely registering his own words as his thrusts started to pick up the pace, chasing his own orgasm as he felt your body tense under him while your second climax built up inside you.

His hands went from your hips to your own hands, lacing both your fingers together as he held your hands above your head and leaned down to kiss you again. There was a bit more force, a bit more need behind this one and with a low growl he slammed his hips against yours one more time, burying himself deep as he emptied into you. Your own climax hitting at the same time made it feel like your walls were milking him dry.

Both of you were spent after that; a sweaty mess of half clothed bodies that clung to each other tightly. He didn't want to pull out but he wanted to lay you on the bed proper, opting to slide himself out from between your legs and gingerly place you on the bed before laying down next to you. Once he was settled in beside you, your hands wrapped around him in a loose embrace as you rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath.

A heavy arm draped over you, pulling you in tightly as you both lay there in the dark. Simon was the first to break the silence, kissing the top of your head.

"May not 'ave been a proper date, sweet'eart. But I promise we'll 'ave one eventually. Now get some sleep, I'll be 'ere in the mornin'."

[simonrilee]

COD Sexuality HCs for Gay Month

(Modern Warfare Reboot only for this one, Black Ops and Ghosts coming soon)

(if you disagree with any of these you're homophobic)

(not a single one of them is capable of being straight)

• Simon Ghost Riley: First of all this man is aro-ace spec, demisexual/demiromantic perhaps (what? no. im not projecting). Man kisser. He likes boys.

• John Soap MacTavish: That's a bisexual if I've ever seen one. Slight preference towards men, but for the most part, if he thinks you're attractive he'll hit on you. Man or woman, doesn't matter. I don't think I need to say much here. He's just a bisexual man, case closed.

• Kyle Gaz Garrick: Also bisexual, but I'm gonna say he's a bit of a ladies man. I just get that vibe from him. He is dancing with all the girls in the club, and they are eating it up.

• John Price: There's one of two options here. Gay, and Straight. I'm sorry, I can not see an in between. I don't know why. I think it's just one or the other here. He's either the gayest man you've ever seen (bear btw), with a husband at home, or he's very respectfully a straight man with a wife at home.

• Alex Keller: Golden retriever bisexual. Case closed. No preference. Might actually be pansexual but doesn't care enough to look into it. He likes whoever, and when he likes them, he's the fucking sweetest man ever about it. He's incredibly romantic. I have strong feelings about this one. Pry this headcanon straight out of my cold dead hands I dare you.

• Farah Karim: I also get demisexual/demiromantic vibes from her. I don't think she's even worried about finding a partner, tbh. She is very devoted to the ULF, and outside of that doesn't make it a priority to find a partner. As for gender preference, I don't think she has one. Very much so 'I'll end up with whoever I end up with and I'm gonna love them' vibes.

• Alejandro Vargas: Raging bisexual. So many bisexuals but you know I'm right. Look at him, and then look at Rudy, and tell me they're not married. As for why he's bisexual and not gay? Idk? Vibes. You tell me.

• Rodolfo Rudy Parra: Gay your honor!! Gay!! Gay, and married to Alejandro. That's it. He crushed on Alejandro for most of his young adulthood. He's still crushing on Alejandro.

• Valeria Garza: Lesbian! She doesn't care for men. Very 'fuck the patriarchy' as well imo. Very proud about who she is, though I don't think she advertises it.

• Phillip Graves: Homosexual. Gay man. Boy kisser. Extremely closeted though, even well into adulthood. Being brought up in the south, I think he was definitely raised Christian. He was also raised in a very conservative small town. Like, the closest Walmart is an hour away typa small town. So he's got a lot of shit to work through internally. I think he even has an ex-wife that he was never truly in love with. You couldn't pry this one out of my cold, dead, gay, country boy hands if you tried. I will never stop pushing the gay graves agenda.

- Anyway that's all for now, if you disagree that's fine, I don't care these are just my thoughts. I don't know shit about shit! So take these with a grain of salt. As always. -