#simon ghost riley x fem!reader

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Simon going with you and you two’s toddler to a seafood restaurant, then spending the entire time peeling shrimp for your kid to eat rather than eating his own food.

You try and get him to let you take a turn so he can eat his food before it gets cold, but he says no and insists you get to eat first.

So you end up trying to finish quickly to take over shrimp duty from him, mean while he’s painstakingly removing every leg and section of shell before cutting each shrimp into bite size pieces for your ravenous toddler.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter One

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, canon-typical violence, threatening language, death of a minor character

Word Count: 4.6k

On a scavenging run, two unknown groups arrive unannounced. Through the gunfire, you’re separated, cornered, captured. A skull-faced Lieutenant makes a decision, changing your life forever.

Chapter Two

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

Eden is a home.

It is a person. A place. A community

It is the scent of old musty books, and the quiet peace before the rising dawn.

You work by candlelight in the silent hours, an open book resting on the table in front of you. Wearing gloves to protect it, you carefully turn the page, gaze scanning the faded lettering. Most of it is legible, and with some time and care, you’ll be able to replicate it on new paper with fresh ink.

Preservation.

Not of your mortal life and those that live in your community, but the preservation of humanity, culture, and human history. Five years since the world fell apart, and yet you remain, carrying on with purpose, restoring books, transcribing those that are close to falling apart, and keeping records of the years that came before.

It is enjoyable, fulfilling work but you serve a greater need to your community. Here, within your sanctuary of several hundred people, you provide them entertainment and education. The children come to you for picture books and story time, and the adults visit when they need an escape.

You are but one piece of a large whole.

“What are you doing here so early?”

You glance up, smiling at your assistant. “Could ask the same,” you laugh, pushing back from the table. Standing, you remove your gloves and set them next to the book.

Sam, your archiving assistant yawns. “Thought I’d get here early since you’re going out today with Zac and his group.” They rub at their eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the gate already?”

“Shit,” you mutter, checking the mechanical clock hanging on the wall. Sam is right. You should be at the gate right now. “Double shit,” you groan.

Sam laughs and reaches for their own gloves. “I’ll handle this.” Putting them on, Sam settles into your chair. “We doing a refurb on this?”

“No,” you say, running around the room, grabbing your jacket and backpack. “Some of the pages are too faded. Binding is also bust.”

“Transcribe then,” murmurs Sam, gently closing the book to inspect the integrity of the cover. “Where are you going again?”

“Zac mentioned a small town they scoped out. No activity.” You walk over to Sam, yanking your jacket on. “He said there’s a library.”

Sam’s head pops up. “Seriously?”

You nod excitedly. “Said the place was locked up tight. Windows still intact.”

“Untouched?” asks Sam, eyebrows rising in surprise. You nod. Sam whistles lowly. “What a fucking find.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “Could really use some encyclopedias.”

“And dictionaries,” adds Sam longingly.

Tugging on the front of your jacket and then smoothing the front, you zip it up. “Zac said I can bring back as much as I want.”

“Did he really?” Sam shakes their head and opens the front cover of the book. “That man is sweet on you.”

“Which is why I take advantage,” you giggle.

Sam bursts out laughing. “Go. They’ll leave you behind.”

With a grin on your face and a hop to your step, you wave at Sam before heading out the side door and into the early morning. The sun is just starting to rise. Most people are still asleep or starting their day. You walk by the communal buildings where the earliest risers are preparing breakfast. You sigh when you get a whiff of what they’re cooking, wishing you could snag a meal before departing.

As you approach the gate, Zac raises his hand in greeting.

“Have I held everyone up?” you ask tentatively, glancing around.

“Not at all. Still loading up a few things. Your timing is perfect.” Zac smiles, and though you find him pleasant, nothing stirs within you. There is no lust or even romantic interest.

You observe the line of cars queued at the gate. Usually there are only one or two, but there are at least ten vehicles here including the salvaged U-Haul. “Taking a whole convoy?”

“We’re going to need it.”

“For a small town?”

Zac chuckles. “I’m dropping you off at the library. Ben will come with you.”

“I get a security detail?” you ask excitedly and Zac nods. “Fancy.”

Zac scratches at his neck, gaze roaming over the convoy. “There’s a car assembly plant a few miles outside the town. Gonna strip what we can. If things go well, we’ll come back.”

“No activity then?”

“None,” confirms Zac. “We’ve had a scouting team out there for the last two months. Not a soul has passed through.”

“That’s fortunate,” you murmur.

While your community has been largely untouched and unbothered by the outside world, there are still so many unknowns. There have been stragglers that have shown up, and while several have been accepted in and integrated, there are many more that have been turned away or shot on sight. Sometimes you think it cruel, but there are all sorts of horrors in the world now.

Ben walks around the front of the nearest car, and beams in your direction. “Hear I’m looking after you today,” he says, going in for a hug.

You accept it easily. Ben is the comedian of the community, always having a kind word and funny joke.

“And helping me haul books,” you add.

Ben winks in your direction and then turns to Zac. “We’re ready.”

Zac nods. “Load up!” he shouts.

Everyone around you heads to their designated vehicle. Engines roar and car doors slam. You follow Ben, hopping into a dusty Jeep Wrangler.

It’s several hours of open road and clear weather.

You and Ben pass the time by singing songs and playing car games. It’s a good distraction until Zac comes on over the radio and tells Ben their exit is coming up. The rest of the convoy drives on as Ben cuts away to take an exit ramp. A few more minutes and he’s coming to a stop just on the edge of town, parking the Jeep amongst a cluster of trees. The vehicle is completely hidden.

“Ready?” he asks, sliding the keys into his pocket.

“Backpack? Check. Gun? Check. Foldable wagon? Check.”

Ben blows raspberries. “Can’t forget the foldable wagon.”

You playfully smack him on the arm. “You want to haul all those books back yourself.”

“No thank you,” he mutters.

The walk is pleasant, but overall silent. Ben carries an M4AI. The arsenal back home is massive, and whenever there are trips outside the compound, the military-grade weapons come out. He keeps his head on a swivel, but other than the occasional animal sounds and the rustling of leaves, all is quiet.

“Here it is,” sighs Ben, extending one arm toward a stand-alone building at the corner of an intersection.

The library isn’t overly big. If anything, it’s what you’d expect from a small town.

“Now I know you’re excited,” he begins, slightly leaning in your direction. “But you stay close. We’re entering from the back.”

All you can do is nod eagerly, words escaping you. It’s been almost six years since you’ve been inside a library. This is a treat. It takes an insane amount of self-control to not skip all the way to the back of the building.

While the front of the building faces the intersection, behind the library is a small parking lot and two dumpsters. Ben does a slow sweep of the lot as the two of you walk toward the employee entrance. Satisfied that nothing and no one is around, Ben lowers his gun. Removing his backpack, he sets it on the ground, and rummages around inside before withdrawing lockpicks.

Adrenaline surges within you.

A few wiggles.

And then—

Click.

Grinning like an idiot, Ben slips the lockpicks into his backpack and puts it on. Grabbing his gun, he presses himself to the brick wall. Slowly, Ben opens the door with the tip of the rifle. It gives under his touch easily, the hinges even silent as the door swings inwards.

“Draw your weapon,” whispers Ben. “We need to do a sweep first.” As you reach for your Glock, Ben shakes his head. “And leave the damn wagon.”

Leaning the foldable wagon against the wall, you remove your gun from its holster. Ben enters and you follow, shifting your body to watch for anything coming up behind you. It’s a slow sweep. Starting along the wall, the two of you walk the perimeter, checking the back offices, and then finally the center-most area.

Ben comes to a stop near a collection of dusty chairs. Lowering his gun, he sighs with relief. “It’s clear.” He turns in your direction. “I’ll be keeping a lookout at the door. If anything happens, you come directly to me.”

“Got it,” you say with a mock salute.

Ben rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “And don’t drag those books along because I know you will. Leave them.”

You stare him down but Ben doesn’t budge, matching your stare with one of his own. “I mean it. If someone or something comes barreling through the front doors, you fucking run to me. Understood?”

“Sure. Got it. Understood.”

Ben checks his watch. “We have a few hours before we’re expected back at the meet point. Take your time.” He starts to walk away, and then abruptly pivots. “Wife packed a few sandwiches. Promise I’ll share.”

You snort and wave him off. “Bring me my wagon, Ben.”

“On it,” he calls over his shoulder.

As his footfalls recede, you linger in the quiet, dusty library, taking in the significance of the moment. Six years since you’ve stood inside an actual library. Five years since the world fell apart but a year before, third places were quickly disappearing. No one could spend money when wages were low and all the government’s resources were going toward the war effort. Libraries and free spaces shuttered first, losing all their funding.

This place is precious. Special. A rare opportunity.

Of all the books in your community’s collection, they’ve all come to you by the way of others, collected on routine trips and scavenging missions like today. Since stepping inside the walls you now call home, this is the first time you’ve left it. All the stories you receive of the outside world come from the mouths of those who witness it firsthand.

Like a jubilant child, you want to run around—to touch everything. The tips of your fingers buzz with an incessant itch. But you don’t dare remove anything from the shelves. Resisting is almost physically painful as you float through the aisles, taking it all in. To remove a book off the shelf, to open it up, the smell it and feel it would be paradise.

But you know better. You do.

Disturbing them without the right tools and care might cause damage or undo exposure. What you can do is look, to read the spines, and consider your options. Once you know what you want, you’ll drag your little wagon behind you and go about taking the books you want off the shelves.

Ben does leave you alone, and you’re left to wander.

Each step is light but purposeful as you move about the space. You think of everyone back home, of their likes and dislikes, of their needs and wants. More picture books would be helpful as well as some young adult novels. Some of the women have been asking for romance and few of the older folks would like some historical nonfiction.

“Where are you?” you mutter, digging around in your jacket pockets.

Crumpled paper brushes against your fingers. Withdrawing it, you smooth it out as best you can. Using the little light available to read your scribbled penmanship, you pull the wagon behind you, mentally reordering your notes by priority.

Sam wants dictionaries, and you need to grab a set of encyclopedias. Finding the “Reference” section, you survey all your options. Dictionaries and an encyclopedia set are a must, but you also consider the selections of atlases and then the thesaurus collection. The school could really use those resources, and your wagon is large enough to accommodate a few last-minute additions.

Kneeling, you admire the different editions of encyclopedias. Some appear a little worn but otherwise fine. Even though this place hasn’t had power or temperature control in five years, the place was sealed and untouched until you and Ben. It’s likely that everything inside is fine, and all you and Sam will need to do is a rebinding.

You’re completely absorbed, so focused on the tomes in front of you, that the whisper of your name has you spinning around and reaching for your gun.

Ben has his hands up in front of him in a placating gesture. A snarky remark sizzles on your tongue. Ben brings a finger to his mouth in a gesture of silence. Whatever you were going to say dissolves, leaving behind an acrid aftertaste.

Slowly, you swivel your head from side to side but see nothing.

Ben shifts closer, leans in, a glint of fear in his eyes.

“There are people outside,” he whispers.

That’s when you hear it. Distantly, you hear a car door slam, and a muffled shout. The marrow in your bones becomes ice. There are people. There shouldn’t be people.

You swallow, mouth becoming dry. “How many?”

Ben shrugs. “Not sure. But there’s two groups.”

“Two—” You shake your head slightly as that’ll clear your racing thoughts. “What do you mean two groups?”

Ben’s mouth turns downward. It’s an I’m sorry but even that is loaded.

We’re not getting out of this.

There’s a distant hoot of laughter, and then the breaking of glass as if someone’s thrown a beer bottle. It’s still far enough away that you cling to that one comfort. But if they stick around, they might come sniffing. If that happens, you and Ben will be cornered.

Ben nods his head in the direction of the front of the library. Staying low, the two of creep toward the front of the building. There are two sets of double doors. The first set open up into the library and the secondary set of doors lead directly outside. Sandwiched between them is a small atrium. Above the doors are massive windows that bring in natural light.

Out front in the intersection are several beaten up trucks. From what you can see, it’s all men, at least a dozen or two in total. They look haggard. Mean.

“Is that them?” you ask softly.

Ben doesn’t look back at you as he answers. “Just the one. These guys came in loud.” Ben shifts slightly to glance over his shoulder at you. “Surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“Lost in my books.” Ben snorts, and returns his attention to the glass doors. “What about the second group?” you ask tentatively. “Our people?”

Ben eases back a bit. He sits down on the floor, checking over his rifle. “No. Not sure who they are.” He licks his lips, gaze focused on the gun. “They’re all in black. Militarized by the look of them. Organized.”

Two groups. Two different groups.

Ben removes the clip and checks the cartridge. “Only noticed them when one of these guys went around back.” He gestures toward the men directly outside the front doors. “Fucker came out of nowhere and knifed him. Dragged his body away too.”

“Who are they?”

Ben shrugs and rummages in his backpack for a new clip. “No fucking idea. The ones out front might be marauders or slavers or—”

He pauses, gaze growing distant.

“Or what, Ben?” you prompt.

He doesn’t answer, only readies the rifle. “All I know is we need to go.”

All this work, all this effort, suddenly gone.

Your shoulders sag as the reality of the situation sets in. “I have to leave the books. Don’t I?”

“Afraid so,” replies Ben. But he smiles, and though he’s trying, you see the strain. “Next time I’ll make sure to bring you and Sam some books.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he affirms. “Let’s go.”

At the back door, you withdraw your Glock, posting up beside Ben. He cracks it open. Pauses. Opens it a little wider. He carefully sticks a small hand mirror out the opening. He turns it left then right then back again.

“Clear” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He exits slowly, and then gestures with his hand. You step outside, squinting slightly as your eyes adjust to the light. Ben starts to cross the parking lot, heading for the exit furthest from the intersection.

The voices of the men are louder out here. A tiny bubble of panic blooms. Then simmers. Then boils.

There is no one around. No one. And yet—

A loud crack splits the air. The wall next to Ben explodes, tiny fragments of debris bursting outward. Ben stumbles backward. He grabs for you. And tugs.

You’re yanked to the side, and then spun around.

Time seems to slow, and yet everything occurs so quickly you don’t entirely comprehend what’s happened until Ben shoves the two of you behind a nearby dumpster.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe. “Ben. We—”

Horror floods your lungs.

Blood.

Everything. Dripping from tiny holes in Ben’s body.

“Oh my god. Ben.”

You reach for him, but there are so many impact points. Too many.

“Go,” he gasps. “Go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

As the words leave your mouth, a barrage of bullets bite into the wall directly over your head.

“Here,” he rasps, handing you the keys to the Jeep. “Leave me and fucking run. I’ll distract them.”

Shouting breaks out nearby followed by what seems like a never-ending deluge of gunfire.

Your eyes burn. “You promised me books.”

He smiles, and there’s more red than white. “You know I always deliver on my promises.”

With a groan that’s more a cry of pain, Ben stands and reloads with a new clip.

“Go,” he whispers just as he steps out from around the dumpster, gun firing.

You turn. Take off. Gunfire follows.

It comes from everywhere, but you don’t falter, don’t pause to check your surroundings. You’re not a raging bull or an agile cheetah. You are pure frenzy, pure panic, like a rabbit running from fox teeth.

“Fucking grab her!” someone yells. “Grab her!”

You don’t know if it’s the marauders or the men all in black, but there is little reason to consider who.

Survival is paramount. Survival is eternal.

In a world like this, survival is lifeblood.

It is everything.

With lungs burning and muscles screaming, you aim for the houses, knowing you can lose them if you scuttle through the overgrown backyards.

The blow comes out of nowhere.

You witness a brief taste of freedom.

And then it’s yanked right from under you.

A body barrels into you, knocking you sideways. The ground comes up fast. You throw up your arms to protect your head and face. It cushions but protects little else. You hit hard.

“Come here,” growls a male voice. Hands are on you. Grabbing. Twisting. “Let me get a good look at you.”

You kick out. Throw your fists in all directions.

“Stop your fussing.”

A quick blow to the face and you’re circling, everything becoming temporarily blurry as the person atop you brings your vision skyward.

 “Look at you,” he laughs.

It’s one of the marauders. He smiles down at you, teeth brown and grey from decay.

“Pretty thing. Gonna look cute choking on my—”

His nefarious smile drops as the rest of him stiffens. You freeze, staring up in shock as you try to figure out what’s happened. It’s a slow unfolding. A trickle. Blood begins to pool in his mouth and then it drip drip drips onto your face.

With a soft cry, you wiggle out from under him as he tips over, falling into the grass. Scrambling backward, you start to push up onto your knees, muscles poised to keep moving.

“Don’t move.” A gun barrel presses into the back of your head. It’s still warm. “Get up.”

A pair of black boots come into view. Your gaze slowly ascends. Black boots give way to black pants to a black bullet proof vest to a black balaclava. The only part of him you can see are his eyes.

Someone grabs the back of your neck. It’s a harsh hold, and you’re yanked to your feet. You twist your neck and find another man, this one almost identical to the one in front of you. This is the other group Ben spotted, the ones tracking the marauders.

The one holding your neck squeezes and the other reaches for you. “Fucking move and I’ll shoot you.”

You remain perfectly still—perfectly silent as he pats you down. The knife in your boot is confiscated along with your Glock. When they snatch the Jeep keys, you instinctually reach to take them back.

“Told you not to fucking move.”

The man slaps your hand down and you feel the muzzle return to your head.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

He stares you down for a long moment. It gives you an opportunity to observe him, and his companion. They both wear identical all-black tactical even down to the patches attached to their biceps. The bottom one you recognize. Both American flags. The one above it is eerily similar but you can’t entirely place it. It’s an azimuthal projection of the earth but a top view from the North Pole. Beneath it are two olive branches.

The stranger’s gaze shifts to just above you. He jerks his head, and then you’re shoved forward without warning. With each of them holding an arm, you’re half-dragged back to the intersection the marauders were at.

While their rusty trucks are still there, they aren’t alone. Four armored trucks are parked in a semi-circle around the marauders’ cars. More men in all-black tactical gear prowl the area. Of the first group to arrive, those that aren’t dead have been zip tied and lined up in a row on their stomachs, faces pressed into the asphalt.

When one of them moves, they’re kicked until they fall back into compliance.

“Found this one out by the houses,” says the man holding onto your left arm.

Soldiers. They have to be. This isn’t some ragtag group. They wear uniforms, all of which are perfectly maintained. Even the armored trucks are in decent condition.

A small trio of them standing nearby turn.

The centermost soldier speaks. “A woman?” His surprise is clear. And like the two men who hold you, this man too has an American flag.

He nods toward the group of facedown marauders. “These fuckers don’t let their breeders out of their sight.”

Breeders.

You almost snarl, bite back with an insult. But you keep your mouth shut. Their intentions are unclear, and you’re without a weapon. Entirely powerless.

Survival. Always survival.

He takes a few steps forward, approaching you, gaze assessing. Behind the balaclava, he gives you a once over. “Looks healthy,” he observers. Without warning, he grabs your face. You jerk back, and he clucks his tongue. “Stop moving.”

Turning your face to the left and then to the right, the middle of his brow creases. “Open your mouth.”

You glower, and don’t comply.

He grabs your nose, shutting off your air. You gasp, mouth opening.

“Has all her teeth,” he announces, dropping his hand. “Can’t be one of theirs.”

“We need to show the Lieutenant,” says the soldier to your right.

The man before you stares, and keeps staring. “Do we?”

You don’t like the implication.

“What’s this?”

A deep, masculine voice cuts through the air. It is accented. British. Every head turns, and the soldiers straighten, shoulders back and heads held high.

The man holding your left arm speaks up. “Found her running toward the houses, Lieutenant.”

All the soldiers wear plain black balaclavas. Simple. Straightforward. But the man who steps into view has a skull face stitched into his. A fucking skull.

Instead of an American flag, it’s a Union Jack.

His brown eyes behind the mask narrow. “They don’t bring their women out.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are their numbers that low?”

“With how we’ve been picking them off I wouldn’t be surprised.”

They bicker back and forth, arguing about you but not actually talking to you.

“I’m not with them,” you say, and they all go silent.

Skull Face glowers. “You’re not?”

“I was running from them.” You glance between the soldiers who shot the man. “They’ll tell you. They’re the ones that shot him.”

Skull Face appears unmoved. “Doesn’t mean you’re not with them.”

You laugh, and it sounds a bit hysterical. “Why would I be fucking running if I were with them? Wouldn’t I be shooting back at you?”

“No,” he replies flatly. “If you were with them, you’d be bloody running from them. Not shooting at us.”

“She has to be with them. There’s no one else here.” The man who speaks up this time is directly to Skull Face’s right. The accent is different. Scottish.

“I came with one other. Those men shot at us.”

Ben. Oh. Sweet Ben.

“And where are they?” asks Skull Face.

You swallow, knowing the truth. “Behind the library. Parking lot. Near the dumpster.”

Skull Face locks gazes with another solider and nods. Two men break off, heading in that direction. He returns his attention to you. “Who are these men?”

“What?” you ask, perplexed.

“These men.” He points to the facedown marauders. “Who are they?”

These men are strangers to you. “Slavers?” When no one confirms or denies, you guess again. “Cannibals?”

“She’s playing dumb,” mutters the Scots.

“Hush, Soap,” mutters Skull Face.  “Who are they? What name do they go by? It’s an easy question. Everyone knows it.”

You shake your head. “I—I don’t know.”

Lieutenant Skull Face leans in, lowering his voice. “If you don’t answer truthfully, you and I can have an extended chat in the back of one of these trucks.”

“She had these.” The Jeep keys are tossed, and he catches them without looking. “And this.” The Glock is presented.

Soap takes the Glock. He turns it over. “They don’t give their women weapons, Ghost.”

So, Skull Face is named Ghost. Fitting.

“No,” he agrees. “Makes it easier for them to fight back.”

The very idea sobers you.

“Who are they?” you ask, feeling safe enough to do so.

Ghost glances up from the car keys. “Your worst fucking nightmare.”

“Lieutenant!” The two men that left for the library return. Jogging forward, they speak in low voices.

Ben is not with them. Ben is—

Ghost nods and steps back. “We’re taking her with us.” The two men holding onto your arms let go and Ghost immediately grabs hold of your shoulder, pulling you forward.

“Pick three of these bastards at random,” he announces, gesturing toward the facedown men. “Put them in Delta truck. Shoot the rest.”

Ghost’s hand at your shoulder slides up, grasping the back of your neck. He leans in close—so close you can pick out the little flecks of gold in his brown irises.

“You’re riding with me.”

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[outoftheseine]

- SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY FIC RECS 2 -

my big, broody husband | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

part one | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

yes, lieutenant • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sinkovia (very very angsty, violence, smut)

forcedhusband!simon x reader

↳ by @suimon (sooo much fluff, comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, lots of bantering)

unexpected | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @dammn-dean (pregnant!reader, angst, comfort, fluff)

the roommate • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world (angst, fluff, smut, kidnapping, simon here made my heart so fuzzy)

please love me | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @rowarn (angst, smut, comfort, tw’s like depression, sa and suicide)

actions have consequences | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!civilian!spouse!reader

↳ by @mrweh (heavy angst, mean!simon)

office romance • supervisor!simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @hecateslore

you had his baby and he didn’t know | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sgrplumditz

ghost distribution system | part two | part three • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @katz-chow

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

his heart, his light, his world • dad!simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @thexsilentxwordsmith (so so fluffy)

no judgement • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @blingblong55 (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

consequences • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sinkovia (very angsty, tw: miscarriage)

a place to be weak • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff, little angsty)

superficial wounds, deep devotion • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @tacticaldiary (fluff)

tormented by a ghost • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @shotmrmiller (mean!simon, little explicit)

lights • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (dad!simon fluff, angst, childhood trauma)

sunshine • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @sgtcosmo (fluff)

whispers and words • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @dammn-dean (angst, slightly suggestive, happy ending)

secret haven • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @lightwing-s (fluff, secret relationship)

gentle love • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @floatingfireflies (fluff)

his girls • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @casiia (dad!simon, domestic!simon, fluff, slight angst)

migraines • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @mockerycrow (fluff, physical hurt/comfort)

family ties • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @lundenloves (angst, dad!simon but not a cute dad ahaha)

longing • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (fluff)

hold it together while the world is on fire • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (major character death, grief, angst, tw: drug abuse)

is it too soon? • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (fluff, simon is whipped, grief)

in another life • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @suimon (very angsty, hurt but no comfort)

over his shoulder • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (tooth rotting fluff)

sweet dreams, my love • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @qtboni (so fluffy)

the sacrifice • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @bravo4iscool (medic!reader, fluff, angst but happy ending)

wrong words • simon ‘ghost’ riley x 141!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (hurt/comfort)

being chosen… by a baby • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!single mom!reader

↳ by @southernbluebellereader (fluff)

big guy • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kivino (fluff, jealous!simon)

gentle giant • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @asph6lt (fluff, soft!simon)

girl dad • dad!simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @thexsilentxwordsmith (very fluffy)

home invasion • neighbour!simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @oceantornadoo (hurt/comfort, violence, fluff)

everything’s gonna be okay • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @pearlofthesirens (hurt/comfort)

meet the family • simon ‘ghost’ riley x civilian!reader

↳ by @sim0nril3y (angst, comfort, family issues)

oh muse, tell me of the things done by golden aphrodite • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sprout-fics (smut, greek mythology au)

late night embrace • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @mondaysoct (fluff, slightly explicit)

[kittywhimsical]

nsfw! mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

simon riley x roommate!reader who just cannot finish by herself.

roommate!reader who does everything she can from her fingers to vibrators but to no avail, she can't come.

roommate!reader who goes to simon's room, shyly peaking her head in, wearing just panties and simons an oversized shirt.

roommate!reader who asks for simon's help, but he barely heard her because she whispered.

simon, who made her speak up and his cheeks immediately flushed red as she did.

simon, who agreed to help her. what harm would it do if he did?

roommate!reader, who thought simon's fingers were much better than hers.

simon riley x roommate!reader who are now roommates with benefits.

simon and reader who both want more than that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

holy crap!!! tysm for 100 notes on my previous post!!??

[mockerycrow]

thinking about ghost who thinks too much and oral is the only way to shut his brain up sometimes

ghost x fem!reader nsfw below — filthy. only warning.

at first, it was never a method either of you thought of to try. in general, sex of any kind was just never on the table as it wasn’t something either of you really brought up. the first time it happened, it was completely by accident. ghost’s mask was pressed up to the crooked bridge of his nose, pressing greedy kisses to your lips which you frantically returned. you grabbed at ghost’s shoulders and upper back as he backed you up onto a table, his strong hands grabbing below your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the table with a quiet grunt against your lips.

it felt natural, really. so natural he didn’t realize it until the second time this happened. ghost’s lips trailed down your jaw and down your neck as his fingers unbuttoned your pants, murmured “up” to you—you lifted your hips—and he swiftly tugged down your pants and put them aside. your breath stifles in your throat for a moment as you propped yourself up on your forearms to watch his huge hands grasp right under your knees to spread your legs. a hot pulse flowed through your lower abdomen down to your clit, and you’re sure it lead to a dribble of your wetness.

his eyes are dark and wide. his pupils nearly overtaking his dark brown eyes, and you shudder under his gaze as this large, burly man slowly lowered to his knees—his arms reaching up to tug you closer to the end of the table. “ghost..—“ you breathe out but he cuts you off the second he leans forward and he buries his face into your clothed core, his nose pressing against the fabric and he inhales. “jesus!” you huff, your face burning as you aren’t able to tear your eyes away from him. ghost huffs and inhales your intoxicating scent and you want to smack him when a low, needy groan leaves his throat.

“fuckin’ hell—“ he snarls, his voice uneven before he presses his tongue against the fabric of your underwear, a shaky breath leaving him as he licks, licks, licks, his tongue wetting the thin layer between him and your sweet pussy. before you get a chance to complain, his fingers are already tugging your underwear down. and after that, you watch the way his eyes glaze over like a cat pinning it’s prey right before he leans in for his meal.

[thebigbadbatswife]

The Mask... Take It Off...

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary - You ask Ghost to take the mask off.

Warnings - 18+ ONLY! Smut. Vaginal sex. Rough Sex. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Blindfold.

A/N - An old one shot I found in my backlog. Enjoy 💜

Word Count - 1.4k

The small room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin slapping against skin and soft moans. Each roll of your hips brings you closer and closer until you are teetering on the edge of what truly feels like insanity. Your body is hot. Pleasure is burning through every nerve in your body while sweat drips and runs down your skin; the taste of salt filling your mouth. 

Ghost has been working you all night. Bringing you toward the edge over and over again, but never actually letting you reach it. You are starting to get the feeling that he does it because he likes to torture you.

His back is against the wall. While his hands rest on your thighs. Occasionally they move from their place to slap your ass or roughly play with one of your tits. 

Those deep brown eyes of his, framed by equally dark eyelashes, watch you intensely. It’s the only part of his face that you can see. It’s the only part of his face that you have ever seen. Except maybe Soap. He’s always wearing a some sort of balaclava or skull mask. It drives you mad. All you want is to feel his lips and tongue on your skin. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples or his tongue lapping at your drooling pussy. 

With how hot and bothered you are you have no freaking clue how he’s even still able to wear the damn thing. If it was you underneath that balaclava you would feel like you’re suffocating. 

Out of breath, with your legs aching, you slow your movements down, but don’t stop completely. You lean forward and press your forehead against how, doing your best to ignore how much you hate the feeling of the material against your sweat soaked skin. Your hands come to rest on the tops of his pecks.

“Ghost?” 

“Yeah, lovie?” he asks. His voice sounds strained. It comes as no surprise to you considering how hard he is inside of you. His cock twitching each time your walls flutter around him. He’s got to be as close to his own climax as you are to your own. 

You hesitate for a moment before taking a deep breath and asking the question you always ask.

“The mask? Take it off? For me?” 

You don’t expect anything to come from your asking. It never had done before. He usually flips you onto your front and fucks you into the mattress until you’re shaking from the after effects of your own orgasm and dripping with his. Before he unceremoniously pulls out from you and leaves you to deal with the mess all alone. Usually avoiding you for weeks afterwards until the next time he needs a release.

He looks at you for a moment, completely silent. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognise. It’s a long moment. One where the only things you can hear is your heart beat thumping in your ears and the squelching noise that your cunt and his cock make together sounds even louder than it did a few minutes ago.

He’s never looked at you like that before, you quickly realise. There’s no time for you to question it or figure out what that look means as he reaches for the bedside cabinet. Where his knife is laying. Ghost uses it to slice a strip of cloth out of the bedsheet and sets it aside. He brings the piece of scrap cloth up to your eyes and covers them, tying it behind your head. 

You can’t see shit now, but you don’t question it. You trust him and that extends to whatever the hell it is he is currently doing.

“How many fingers am I holdin’ up?” 

“The fuck am I suppose to know?” you whine. Your pace slows further and you can feel your incoming climax fading away. Your legs are really starting to kill you.

“Just checkin’.” He slaps your ass, hard. Making you yelp.

The next thing you know there’s a rustling and you hear something hit the floor. Ghost takes hold of your hands and brings them up to his face. 

Holy fuck. He actually took his mask off for you.

Your fingers trace his face, mapping out every little detail you come across. You want to commit all of it to memory. While you can’t see him, this is certainly a step in the right direction. 

Ghost has pleasantly full lips and a sharp jawline. Already you’re thinking about how nice it will feel to kiss him. Those lips moving with your own in perfect harmony. 

You move away from the thought and continue your exploration. His nose is crooked and there’s a bump in the bridge from where it’s been broken countless times in the past. And you know exactly where his scars are from the way his skin is raised and rough in places. There’s not as many as you thought there would be. The biggest one that captures your attention is on the side of his face. Starting at his forehead, snaking just past his eye and down his cheek, toward his mouth. 

None of them shock you. At least, not completely. And you don’t think that they take away from how handsome you think he must look. 

As you’re tracing his face, you can feel Ghost shifting and moving beneath you, adjusting your positions slightly. Before you can ask what he’s doing he roughly thrusts up into you.

You moan loudly as your hands slide up to grip his hair. It’s a little bit longer than you were expecting it to be, but that makes it perfect for grabbing and tugging on. And you imagine it to be as dark as his eyes.

Ghost sets a hard and fast pace and builds your pleasure back up tenfold. Your moans quickly grow into cries as he fucks you. The grip that you have on his hair tightens as you desperately try to ground yourself. After being edged all night long you honestly feel like you might spontaneously combust. 

Suddenly you feel as if you are falling. With another yelp, this time out of fear not surprise, your fingers leave his hair to grab hold of his broad shoulders as your heart skips a beat. Your back hits the softness of the mattress and, for the first time ever, his lips meets yours in a passionate kiss. Even now you take note of how this is your first kiss ever with him and it’s completely and utterly perfect. You moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth. He tastes like peppermint gum. 

His pace remains just as relentless as before. The bed starts to creak with every thrust that he gives you. Your body jumps as the pad of his calloused thumb presses against your clit and he starts rubbing it in time of his thrusts.

All of that tension that has been building up inside of you all night long finally snaps. Euphoria rushes through every inch of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your back arches and a wordless cry, muffled by Ghost’s mouth, leaves you. The feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock has Ghost falling over the edge straight after you. His hips stuttering as his cock twitches and he fills your pussy to the brim, so that you’re overflowing with his cum. He collapses against you, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

With the absence of your bodies moving, the room is now only filled with the sounds of heavy breathing.

“Thank you. For trusting me, Ghost.” you finally say as you run your fingers through his hair.

There’s a pause. You expect him to pull away and to leave. Like he always does. But tonight is a night of firsts apparently. 

“It’s Simon.”

It’s your turn to pause for a moment. A part of your brain almost has you looking at him before you remember the makeshift blindfold you still have on. 

“What?” you ask, not sure if you had heard him right.

“My name,” he replies. “It’s Simon.” 

You truly feel honoured by the amount of trust that he is showing you tonight. First with removing his balaclava and letting you feel his face and now with telling you his real name. You know that it must take a lot for him.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Simon.”

[mehidktbh]

Hare!Simon "Ghost" Riley HC's

Pairing: Hare!Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Bunny!Reader Summary: Some head cannons I’ve whipped up while slouching in bed. Warning: Slight mention of sexual themes but overall nothing much. A/N: I’ve awoken from the dead and been inspired by @emonatural191 to finally move my ass. But this whole thing was also inspired by another creator who for the life of me I could not find. But I will keep searching to bring justice and credit!! >:(

Taglist: @captainsbaby, @feedthefandoms995, @kyuupidwrites, @fatedeniedhope, @bangirl134, @blueoorchid, @iimfae, @a1nazzz, @motherofreposts, @emi-flaces, @liliumbosniacum, @whore-for-anime, @zeyzeys-stuff, @greenhornphotography, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @simonsslvt, @bunky101, @gisselleherrerposts, @natchayaphorn, @xdarkcreaturex, @theunknownartistsworld, @somelikeitmaat, @mxtokko

- Hare!Simon who is scruffy, hard and always on the lookout. Who has hard thin fur and scars buried beneath said hair. With long legs and piercing eyes, Simon is a hard worker and fast on his feet.

- Hare!Simon who loves you dearly. He loves his mate, his bunny… his wife.

- He loves your luscious fur and soft fluffy ears. He adores your white hair and big pleading eyes - even when you don’t mean to plead - and most of all he loves your constant need to stay fluffy.

- Hare!Simon who is happy to help you with cleaning yourself.

- Hare!Simon who is such a big provider for his wife. He’s the one leaving in the early mornings before any other animal can wake up and disturb his morning scavenging.

- Hare!Simon who always brings home scraps of clovers and long grass. He wants to make sure you're full and healthy, and seeing your face light up when he trudges down the borrow with bundles of leafy greens is just the reason he does it.

- Hare!Simon who fucks you roughly after breakfast. He’s just as fast as he is in bed as he is up above ground. With trapping you under him and on your stomach. His cock hammering into you quickly.

- Hare!Simon who always makes sure to spill his seed inside you. No matter the time or day. His dream is to see you swell with smaller bunnies.

- Hare!Simon who is the man of cleaning your fur, as he licks you all over. Making sure to watch you fluff yourself up too and dry the areas he’s left most wet.

- Hare!Simon who loves to know when you finally surface above ground you probably smell of his scent.

- Hare!Simon who is not afraid to get physical and use his kick. As he’s always on high alert, Simon is not one to complain when you want to take a trip down to the river.

- Knowing you're thirsty, he’ll first check the river for any alligators or water snakes. As they’re known for hiding themselves so well in the dark murky water. Ignoring his own dehydration if it means that you are safe. Which goes with him having his head high as you sip from the lake. Making sure no one is around to sneak up on you with your head turned down.

- Hare!Simon who is a big snuggle monster. At the end of the day when you're both exhausted and spent. He’ll happily bundle up right beside you in the small comfortable nest you’ve made for yourselves in the warm borrow you’ve made as homely as you can.

[loganbcrnes]

A Birthday to Remember

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

genre: smut

words: 4,855

summary: It's readers birthday and Simon and Johnny make it special.

warnings: nothing, just pure smut with some fluff

The morning light filtered through the thick curtains of Ghost’s flat, casting a soft golden hue over the plush bedding where you lay nestled between your partners. The scent of their combined presence—leather, spice, and something distinctly them—wrapped around you like the most precious gift. Your birthday had only just begun, and they were determined to make it a day you wouldn’t forget. 

“Morning, love,” Johnny murmured, his deep brogue thick with sleep, slipping into Gaelic as he spoke. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you against his broad chest as he nuzzled into your neck. “How’s my wee lass feelin’ today, mo ghràdh?” 

You smiled, stretching slightly against them. "Perfect," you murmured, your voice still heavy with sleep. "Best way to wake up on my birthday." Before you could say more, Ghost’s low, rumbling voice joined in from behind. “She’s feeling spoiled,” he predicted, his large hand sliding over your hip in a slow, possessive stroke. “And we’re only getting started.” 

They made sure you stayed in bed, tucked beneath the softest sheets while they took over the kitchen. The rich scent of freshly brewed tea mixed with the warmth of frying bacon and buttery pastries. When they returned, Ghost carried a tray laden with your favorite breakfast, while Soap followed behind with a small, elegantly wrapped box. 

Your heart swelled at the effort they had put into making this special for you. Growing up, birthdays had never been a big deal—your father and his wife barely acknowledged them, and over time, you stopped expecting anything at all. So when Soap and Ghost made it clear that they wanted to celebrate you, to make this day truly special, you were surprised, touched in a way you hadn’t expected. "You two really went all out," you said, running your fingers over the delicate wrapping. "I love it." The food was perfect—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, fresh fruit, and just the way you liked your eggs. Every bite was accompanied by soft murmurs of appreciation from them, gentle kisses pressed to your temple and shoulder. 

And then came the presents. 

Ghost set down a sleek, velvet-lined box before you. When you lifted the lid, a delicate necklace with a small pendant gleamed under the soft lighting—a subtle claim, a mark of devotion. “To remind you that you’re ours,” he said simply, watching your reaction with those piercing eyes of his. 

Soap, ever the showman, produced an entirely different kind of gift—an exquisite set of silk and lace lingerie, in the color he swore looked best on you. “I couldn’t resist, mo chridhe,” he admitted with a cheeky grin. “Thought it’d be a nice way to end the night.” 

After breakfast and presents, they whisked you away for a cozy day out. Bundled up in warm layers, the three of you strolled through the city streets, exploring quaint bookshops and sipping hot chocolate from a small café tucked away in a quiet alley. Soap insisted on taking you ice skating at the local rink, laughing as he tried to keep his balance while Ghost, ever steady, kept a firm grip on your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. The afternoon was filled with laughter, playful teasing, and the warmth of their presence. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they led you to a charming little restaurant, the atmosphere intimate and welcoming. The three of you settled into a cozy booth, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over the table as you perused the menu. 

"Everything looks amazing," you mused, glancing between them. "What are you two getting?" 

Soap leaned back, smirking. "Think I’ll go for the steak. What about you, mo ghràdh?" 

Ghost studied the menu in his usual quiet way before answering. "Lamb for me. And you?" 

You hummed, tapping a finger against your chin. "Maybe the roasted chicken... or should I get the pasta?" 

"Go for both," Ghost suggested smoothly, one hand resting against your thigh. "It’s your day. Whatever you want, you get." 

Soap grinned. "Aye, we’ll just eat whatever you don’t finish. Though I doubt there’ll be much left once you see how good it is." 

The conversation flowed easily as the meal arrived, warm plates filling the space between you. Between bites, Soap entertained you with a story about one of his more ridiculous training exercises, his animated gestures making you laugh. Ghost, ever the observer, watched with fond amusement, adding in the occasional dry remark that made Soap swat at his arm. 

At one point, Ghost reached across the table, brushing a crumb from the corner of your lips with his thumb. "Not used to this, are you?" he observed quietly, his eyes scanning your expression. 

You shook your head slightly, offering a small smile. "Not really. Birthdays were never a big thing for me growing up. It was just another day." 

Soap frowned, setting his fork down. "Tha sin searbh, mo chridhe. Should've never been like that." 

Ghost’s hand rested against your thigh, warm and grounding. "Well, that changes now. From here on out, you get the kind of birthdays you deserve." 

Your chest tightened with emotion, the warmth of their care wrapping around you like a shield. "You two are ridiculous," you murmured, but your smile gave you away. "And I love you for it."  

Soap suddenly smirked, turning toward Ghost. "We should toast to that, eh?" 

Ghost rolled his eyes but picked up his glass, clinking it against yours and Soap’s. "To spoiling our girl," he murmured, taking a sip. 

Soap leaned in, brushing a quick kiss to Ghost’s cheek before catching his lips in a brief but undeniably possessive kiss. "And to us," he added with a grin. 

You felt warmth spread through you as you watched them, a smile tugging at your lips. "Best birthday ever," you murmured, and they both turned their attention back to you, making it clear the night was far from over. 

Soap’s fingers traced slow circles over the back of your hand. "Aye, but the night’s no’ over yet, mo ghràdh. We've still got somethin’ special planned for ye." 

Ghost nodded, his thumb brushing idly against your thigh. "You didn’t think we’d let your birthday end without a proper send-off, did you?" 

You tilted your head, a playful glint in your eye. "And what exactly do you two have planned?" 

Soap smirked, exchanging a glance with Ghost. "Let’s just say, mo chridhe, you’ll be ending the night feelin’ just as spoiled as when you woke up. And I expect ye to be wearin’ that lingerie I got ye, ‘cause it’d be a shame not to see you in it." A candlelit dinner was the perfect way to wind down, their hands never far from yours as they made sure you had everything you wanted. 

The day was spent wrapped in warmth and comfort. They kept you close, fingers intertwined, kisses stolen whenever they pleased. They had nowhere else to be, no responsibilities other than making sure you were happy, well-fed, and absolutely drenched in their love. 

By evening, the flat was dimly lit, candles flickering against the sleek, dark interiors of Ghost’s home. The air had shifted—no longer playful but something heavier, laced with intent. The heat in their gazes sent a slow shiver through you as you stood between them. "And what exactly does this final present involve?" you teased, breath catching when Ghost traced a finger along your jaw. 

Soap’s lips curled into a slow grin, his hands sliding down your sides and pulling you closer. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough, mo ghràdh,” he whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. “But first, we need you to feel every bit of the love we’ve been saving for you.”  

Soap’s hands slid down your sides, resting at your hips, pulling you flush against his firm body. “It’s about time we do, mo luaidh,” he murmured, voice laced with promise. 

The intensity between you heightened, and you allowed them to guide you toward the bedroom, where the soft flicker of candlelight danced across the walls. With a shared glance, Soap and Ghost exchanged quiet commands. "Go on, lass," Soap urged, his thumb brushing over your lips with a gentle, teasing touch. "Get changed. We want to see you in what we got you." 

The lingerie he had chosen lay on the bed, delicate silk and lace in shades that made your heart race. You slipped out of your clothes slowly, feeling their eyes on you as you dressed in the seductive ensemble. The fabric clung to your skin, every inch of it a whisper of luxury, and as you turned to face them, you caught the raw hunger in their gazes. 

Ghost’s low voice broke the silence. “You look breathtaking, Luvie,” he rasped, his tone thick with desire. “Now, let us spoil you properly.” 

Ghost sat casually on the couch, his long, muscular legs spread out comfortably, the weight of his imposing figure adding an undeniable presence to the room. His balaclava remained in place, but the edge of his black button-up shirt was slightly open at the collar, revealing the tension in his shoulders and the intricate tattoos decorating his forearms, a subtle reminder of his ruggedness.  

One arm rested across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally tapping against the fabric as his eyes, cold and calculating beneath his balaclava, remained fixed on you. 

Soap, on the other hand, leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his mohawk styled with a hint of messiness that only added to his charm. The eyeshadow around his eyes gave him a bold, almost mischievous look, his white button-up shirt hanging open at the collar, revealing a patch of chest hair that contrasted with his fair skin.  

He was the picture of relaxed confidence, one leg draped casually over the other, his posture easy but laced with an undeniable tension—he was the playful contrast to Ghost’s brooding demeanor. He shot you a knowing grin, his hands occasionally running through his mohawk as he watched you, eyes glittering with something more than just desire. 

————— 

The air between you and your partners felt electric, thick with anticipation. Ghost’s gaze never left you, his body languid but alert, exuding quiet dominance in every movement. The dim lighting accentuated the sharp lines of his jaw, hidden beneath the balaclava, but it was the weight of his stare that made you shiver. Every glance was a silent command, a promise of what was to come. 

Soap, on the other hand, was all energy and warmth, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. He leaned forward, his voice low and teasing as he broke the silence. “C’mon, mo ghràdh,” he purred, his fingers brushing the back of your hand. “We’ve been waitin’ all day. Don’t keep us waitin’ any longer.” 

Your breath hitched as Soap’s lips curled into a smirk, leaning in close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His hand slid to your waist, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your lingerie. “You’re looking even better than I imagined,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, the words sending a tremor through you. “But we want to see it all.” 

Ghost’s voice was a low growl from across the room, his hand still resting on the couch beside him, but the tension in his posture was undeniable. He was watching Soap’s every move, his piercing eyes darkening with something you couldn’t quite read. “Touch her, Johnny, and you better make it count,” he warned softly, but the command in his voice was unmistakable. There was an undercurrent of something possessive in his words, something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

Soap chuckled, the sound warm and dark. “Don’t worry, LT. I plan on makin’ it unforgettable,” he replied before turning his attention back to you, cupping your face with his hands, tilting your head just enough to kiss you deeply, his lips warm and insistent. His tongue danced with yours, teasing, exploring, but never rushing. The kiss was an invitation—a slow burn that had your body responding with a growing heat. 

Meanwhile, Ghost’s gaze never faltered, and you could feel the intensity of it as he observed. You couldn’t help but glance back at him, your lips still tingling from Soap’s kiss. Ghost gave you a sharp nod, his fingers twitching slightly as though he was battling some internal struggle. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and those tattoos that spoke of battles fought and won. 

His voice was hushed but thick with the promise of what was to come. “I won’t wait forever, love,” he murmured, his hands now resting on his knees as he leaned back, stretching slightly, his muscles shifting under his skin, like a predator about to pounce. “You’re ours. Let us show you what that means.” 

Soap’s lips brushed over your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Ready, mo chridhe?” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a shiver through you. “Let us spoil you like you deserve.” 

You could feel the warmth of both their bodies now, Soap’s body pressed against yours, his hands gliding down to your waist as he pulled you closer. You felt the weight of Ghost’s stare still on you, the heat of it never leaving. His fingers drummed slowly against the couch as he waited, the space between his commands and his actions building the tension even more. 

Your heart raced, and you knew you were ready—ready to let them show you just how much they cared, how much they were willing to give you. The evening had only just begun, and you were already lost in them, in the way they made you feel cherished, desired, and completely adored. 

——————— 

The tension in the room shifted as Soap’s hands gently guided you backward, the soft pressure of his palms on your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. His movements were steady and purposeful, every action calculated to make you feel safe and cared for. His lips hovered above yours for a brief moment before he pressed a soft kiss against them, tender yet filled with the promise of more. 

“Rest back, mo ghràdh,” Soap murmured, his voice low, reassuring. His fingers traced along your sides, pulling the delicate lace of your lingerie gently, as if savoring the way it clung to you. The weight of his body followed as he leaned over you, his presence surrounding you like a warm blanket. He settled beside you, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze never wavering from your face. 

You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest as the intensity of the moment grew. The room, with its dim light and the faint hum of the world outside, suddenly felt small, cozy, like it was just the two of you in the universe. The way Soap looked at you made your heart race, a mixture of affection and something deeper—something primal, something that only an Alpha like him could bring out. 

Meanwhile, Ghost went to stand beside the bed, his figure a quiet, looming presence. His mask remained in place, but the way he watched you, the way his posture was so controlled yet full of intent, made your pulse quicken. He didn’t need to speak—his silence said more than any words could. He was waiting, watching, letting Soap take the lead for now but ready to step in when the moment called for it. 

Johnny’s lips found your neck, his kisses tender and slow, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh.  

“Mmm, John, you feel so good.” You moan out as he grinds against you.  

“Aye, and I’ve only just begun, mo ghràdh,” Soap’s voice was a low growl, full of desire, the words leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking with yours. “I want to worship every inch of ye.”  

As Soap's kisses trailed down your neck, his hands began to explore, sliding to your covered breasts and down to thighs. His touch was electric, and you arched into him, craving more. Ghost, ever watchful, stepped closer, his presence a silent demand for attention.  

“Let me,” Ghost murmured, his voice low and commanding.  

You shivered as he took Johnny’s place, his fingers brushing against Soap's. There was a silent communication between the two men, a wordless understanding, as they both sought to pleasure you.  

Soap's hands moved to unhook your bra, his fingers deft and sure, while Ghost's lips trailed down your neck, his kisses sending shock waves of pleasure through your body.  

Simon’s breath hot against your skin as he leaned in to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, his teeth gently grazing it, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.  

Ghost's hands cupped your other breast, his thumbs teasing the nipple, making you moan with pleasure. You were lost in a haze of sensation, your body on fire with desire. Soap's mouth left a trail of kisses down your stomach, his hands sliding down to your underwear, while Ghost's lips claimed your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue danced with yours, his hands holding your face gently as if you were something precious.  

And you were, both you and Johnny were precious to him, but with you it was different. He’s often rough around the edges and was mean to people, pushing them away with his distant demeanor and biting words. He’s the kind of man who prefers solitude, letting no one in, keeping a wall of coldness between himself and the rest of the world. 

But then there’s you. You, who walk into his life like a soft, gentle presence, an angel who somehow slips through the cracks in his armor. With you, Simon is different. The usual harshness fades, replaced by a quiet tenderness that he only shows you. His words, usually so blunt, soften around you, and when he looks at you, there's something in his eyes that isn’t there with anyone else — a mix of admiration, protectiveness, and a vulnerability he can’t seem to hide. 

You’re his sanctuary, his safe place, the one person he feels he can let his guard down with. He wants to shield you from the world, to protect you like something precious, because in his eyes, you are. You make him feel things he’s spent years burying, emotions that are as raw and unfiltered as the man himself. To him, you’re not just someone he wants by his side; you’re the one thing that makes him feel human again. 

———— 

Ghost positioned himself at the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“I want to watch, I want to see you come apart for us.” Simon said watching you with his intense brown eyes. He sits down on the chair in front of the bed. 

Johnny nodded, doing as he was told. His hands traveled lower, sliding under your panties, his fingers finding your wetness and stroking you with slow, deliberate movements. Ghost's eyes darkened as he watched, his breath coming in sharp rasps.  

“Please, I need to cum.” You moan out as your legs begin to shake due to the pleasure building up. 

“Impatient, are we? Well, I've got a treat for ye’.”  

With that, Johnny shifted, moving down your body until his head was between your thighs. He ripped apart your panties, and you felt his breath on your sensitive flesh, and then his tongue, hot and wet, stroked you in long, slow licks. You cried out, your hands tangling in his hair, as he teased and tormented you with his skilled mouth.  

Soap's fingers joined his tongue, his thumb circling your clit as he sucked and licked, driving you higher and higher. Your pleasure built, a crescendo of sensations, until you were on the edge, teetering on the brink of release.  

“Ghost, please. I need you.” You turned to Ghost. 

Ghost didn't hesitate. He moved to kneel beside you, his hands gentle as he caressed your face.  

“What is it, luvie? You want to cum?” he asked petting your soft cheek. 

His words were all it took. You cried out, your body convulsing as pleasure washed over you in wave after wave. Soap continued to lap at your core, drawing out your orgasm, while Ghost held you, his touch soothing and possessive.  

As your tremors subsided, Soap moved up your body, his lips finding yours in a deep, possessive kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought only heightened your arousal. Ghost, ever attentive, began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were performing a ritual.  

Johnny leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow, his body still warm beside yours. He reached for a bottle of water on the nightstand and offered it to you with a lazy smile. 

“You look like you need this,” he said, his voice still thick with desire. 

You accepted, taking a long drink, realizing just how thirsty you’d been. The cool water slid down your throat, refreshing and grounding. You wiped your mouth and leaned back against the pillows, catching your breath. 

After a few seconds, you were ready to get back into it as you watched Simon undress. 

You reached for him, your hands trembling as you traced the tattoos, burn scars, and the light chest hair that adorned his muscular chest and arms. His skin was warm and rough, and you felt thrilled at exploring this powerful man. Ghost's eyes closed briefly at your touch, his breath catching, and you knew you had the power to affect him, too.  

You leaned in, pushing up his mask, your lips finding him in a tentative kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, and he tasted of desire and something wild. You kissed him deeply, your hands exploring his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles. You unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear, leaving him in all of his glory. 

Soap, after taking a sip of water, let out a low whistle. "Look at ye, big man. Tryin’ to put on a show for us?" 

Ghost rolled his shoulders, kneeling on the bed with a smirk. "If you’re gonna stare, might as well come over and touch." 

Soap grinned, squeezing your right breast. "Aye, but it’s different when we’re gettin’ to enjoy the view together. Not every day we get treated to a sight like this, eh?" 

Your cheeks warmed as your gaze roamed over Ghost’s form, your lips parting slightly. "Definitely not complaining," you murmured, voice teasing but laced with admiration. 

“Good.” Ghost said, placing himself between your legs. He starts jerking his cock. It was a beautiful sight, the head glistening with pre-come, and you couldn't help but sit back up on your knees to lean in, your breath ghosting over the tip.  

“Ah, that’s it, Luvie, wet my cock,” 

You didn't need to be asked twice. You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head as you sucked him deep. Ghost's hands tightened in your hair, his hips moving in a slow, rhythmic thrust as he fucked your mouth.  

“Your mouth feels like heaven.” your mouth started working on him faster, your hands stroking his length until he was panting and cursing, his body rigid with pleasure. Soap, ever watchful, moved to kneel behind you, his hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you slightly.  

“We want to feel ya’ lass. Both of us, inside ya’. Johnny said as he rubs your clit. 

You moaned, your body aching with need as Soap positioned himself at your entrance. Ghost, still pulsing from your mouth, leans forward to grab Soap’s cock. 

Your body welcomed Soap's thick length as he slid into you, filling you with a delicious fullness. At the same time, you took Ghost into your mouth again, sucking him deep, you went back and forth in a rhythm that matched Soap's slow, wet, and steady thrusts.  

“Oh, fuck. You feel so good, lass. So tight.” Johnny moans out from behind you. Slapping noises fill the room as his thrusts begin to quicken up. Ghost's hands tightened on your hair, his hips moving in time with Soap's, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in a wet, sensual dance. Simon’s pubic hair brushes against your nose as you suck his entire length. You could feel their pleasure, their desire, and it only heightened your own.  

“Mmm, feelings fucking amazing, Love.” Simon rang praises through the air. 

Soap's hands gripped your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each stroke, his balls slapping against your clit making the pleasure intensify even more. Ghost pulled out of your mouth and his lips found yours, his kiss possessive and hungry. 

“I’m close, so close.” Soap grunts out, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Go ahead, cum inside of her.” Ghost demands as he starts fucking your throat again. 

Your body convulsed around Soap's cock as your orgasm crashed over you. Soap cried out, his body tensing as he filled you with his warmth, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Ghost followed, his body shuddering as he came, his cock pulsing in your mouth, his taste flooding your senses. You savored the moment, your body humming with pleasure, as the three of you lay entangled, breathless, and sated.  

After around 15 mins of recovery, Simon's hand trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through you. "You're not done yet, Angel," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He guided you to straddle him, his cock hard and ready. You lowered yourself onto him, feeling him fill you up, stretching you most deliciously. 

Soap layed beside Ghost to watch your ride his cock, his hands running over your breasts and down to your clit. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He ran his fingers through your cunt, bringing you closer to the edge.  

Simon's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him. You grab onto his massive biceps, as he thrusts up and down. The way his muscles clenched was so hot, it turned you on more.  

"That's it, lass. Ride him," Soap urged, his voice rough with desire. 

The room was filled with the sound of your moans, skin slapping and mingling with the heavy breathing of the two men. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with every thrust. Simon's grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he groaned, his voice muffled by the mask. 

Soap's fingers continued to work their magic, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for us," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You cried out, your body shaking as you came. 

Simon wasn't far behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release. With a final thrust, he came, his cock pulsing inside you. You could feel his hot cum filling you up, a sensation that sent another wave of pleasure through your body. 

Simon pulled out once his cock softened inside you, and the three of you lay next to each other on the bed. 

————— 

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, with their scent surrounding you, a lazy warmth settled over your limbs. Ghost pressed a kiss to your forehead, his usually sharp eyes softened in the dim light. "You alright, luvie?" 

You hummed in contentment, curling into Soap’s side as he traced absent patterns over your back. "More than alright," you murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. 

Soap chuckled, reaching over to brush damp hair from your face. "Tired, mo chridhe? We might’ve overdone it a wee bit." 

"Might’ve?" You gave a breathless laugh, stretching your sore muscles. "I don’t think I can move." 

Ghost smirked, running a soothing hand down your thigh. "Then don’t. We’ve got you." 

Soap pressed a kiss to your shoulder before slipping from the bed, and padding toward the bathroom. Moments later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth, his touch gentle as he cleaned you up. "Let’s get you comfortable, mo ghràdh." 

Ghost tugged you closer, wrapping you up in the thick duvet as Soap joined you again, pulling you against his chest. "Next year, we’re topping this," he murmured into your hair. 

You let out a sleepy chuckle, warmth flooding your chest at their care. "You two are impossible." 

Ghost kissed the top of your head, his voice a soft rasp. "And you love us for it." 

[lethalchiralium]

Dial Tone | Happiness Series

a/n: here we go.

warnings: kidnapping, babies, mentions of pregnancy and sickness, mentions of violence. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+.

summary: It’s the afternoon, rain thundered against your home so you couldn’t hear the footsteps that backed you into a corner.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Repeat after me. Stay within sight.”

“Stay in sight!”

“Have fun.”

“Have fun!”

“Don’t play with boys.”

“That’s not fair!”

Simon smiled under his face mask at his four year old, her curly hair unruly after she pulled off the sock cap she demanded to wear earlier. “I’m kiddin’, love. But stay in sight of Mum or I.” He pulled her little hand, forcing her to come close before he pressed his cheek to her forehead. She squirmed and he let go, a mumbled, “Okay.” was the best he was gonna get from her.

Winnie ripped her light coat off, tossing it into her father’s lap before she sprinted away to play on the playground with the other kids her age. Simon watched her intently, detail in his memory how she smiled at every kid who passed her by. She’d wave, begin to speak, and play with whatever kid was in the closest vicinity. She certainly didn’t learn social expression from him.

He sat back on the bench, his spine prickled with displeasure as he tried to relax. It seemed to be reflex for him to be on edge - straightened back, clenched fists, jaw so tight it could be wired shut. It was windy, not too many parents weren’t out and about to let their children play on a Tuesday afternoon; school was in session, plus this park was off the beaten path. Hidden and safe, just how he preferred. There were about four kids playing with Winnie, only two sets of parents.

Your hand then settled on his thigh, warmth pooled in his belly as he looked down at your perfect hand. A bracelet gently hung from your wrist, your preferred metal with four colored gems. It was your latest gift from your husband, it meant so much to you - having the four birthstones of your family on it. He was proud of how you smiled when he gave it to you, upset that he made you cry - even if it was tears of joy. He settled his cold hand over yours, you laughed a little.

“Your hand’s freezing, Si.” Your shoulder pressed against his, his nose scrunched a little as you squeezed his thigh.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, moving to pressed a clothed kiss to your hair. “Didn’t think it’d be this cold. Shoulda worn gloves.” There was a small sneeze, Simon looked down at your lap to see Mellie, bundled up and warm as she watched her sister play. With his free hand, he poked her button nose - she giggled before she leaned back, trying to get a glimpse of him.

You squeezed his thigh again, watching your oldest like a hawk as you gently spoke, “I’ll hate you forever if you miss Winnie’s birthday party.”

Simon smirked. “I won’t.” He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Or your birthday party.”

He rolled his eyes, his good mood began to sour but he took in a breath, flushing it from his system. He always knew you mean well, even when you drop things like this, knowing he doesn’t want a party since he swore them off at nine. So, he changed the topic. “Why haven’t we had one for yours?”

“I’ve had plenty of them, Simon. You haven’t let me throw you one. And the ones you told me about, they weren’t good.” You rubbed his arm then looked up to him. With your best puppy eyes, you asked, “Please let me throw you one so I can show you how fun a birthday can be.”

“…Fine.”

“Thank you.” You placed a kiss right where his lips were - no matter the mask, you always knew where to kiss his lips. It’s like they were magnetized to fit his perfectly. “You know, there was this post I read the other day, talking about kindness and gentleness doesn’t need to be so flowery and gentle like the movies.” Your hand turned to hold his, linking your fingers together as you turned back to watch your daughter on the playground. Simon couldn’t tell keep his eyes off of you, hanging on every word you said. “And I thought about you.” There was a moment where Simon felt warmth flush his cheeks, his chest, his hand that held yours. “I think about my 21st birthday and how you made me cry when you walked in that restaurant, you were nervous and your tie a bit crooked - that was kindness.”

“That was love.” He corrected, his voice gentle and low. “I loved you since that day. You were so happy to see me.”

“I was. I always will be.” You squeezed his hand, the one you were never scared to hold. “I think about how you bring me things you thought I would like, and I always do. It’s like you’re in my head, like you know everything about me.”

Simon smiled under his face mask. Not the small smile he would usually show you, the cheek straining smile that would make your face ache after a while. “I always want to know everything about you.”

You sniffled a little, a small laugh left your lips. What he couldn’t see were the warm tears that threaded down your cheeks. “I didn’t spend too much time on the post because I thought about how you were cold to me when we first met. And how you have changed so much since then, in such little time. That…” You sniffled again, leaning your head to rest against his shoulder once more. “That I loved you enough for you to recognize that you’re safe with me.”

He squeezed your hand, pressing his cheek to your hair.

“Just like how you’ll always be safe with me.”

He let go of your hand, moving to settle it on Mellie’s chest - her little gloved hands instantly grabbed his fingers, moving to chew on one of them. He didn’t mind. Your hand squeezed his thigh again.

“Ten more minutes, then I want to go home.”

He nodded a little, cheek still pressed to your hair. “Whatever you want, my love.”

•••

You barely got any sleep. With a crying Mellie who wouldn’t settle down and a clingy Winnie, you were amazed you had gotten a wink of sleep when you woke up at 7am to a cry of discomfort from your baby.

You checked the time, noticing that you had a couple of notifications but tossing your phone back on your nightstand before pulling Mellie into your arms. Her little fingers scratched at your sleep shirt, which was one of Simon’s old shirts, and her little face was buried in your neck. Her forehead felt so much warmer than last night, you were almost instantly in the bathroom - with one hand, you wet a washcloth with cold water. A gentle movement of Mellie’s head and the wince of a cold washcloth on your neck gave you chills. You pulled it away from her nose and mouth, holding it to the top of her head to try and give her relief and cool down her temperature.

“Mama?”

You looked up to see Winnie sitting up on your bed, her hand rubbing her eye as she started to wake up.

“Yes, baby?” You asked, Mellie still crying on your chest.

“Wanna sleep more.” She toppled backwards, dragging your pillow over herself. If you weren’t so worried and tired, you would’ve cackled, you did give her a small laugh. You looked back down at your baby, whose little face was scrunched up as she cried. You were swift as you made your way out of your room and downstairs, hating that you were most likely waking everyone in the house-

“Morning.”

Laswell was already sitting at the kitchen table, coffee on a coaster as Roach sat beside her, eagerly scarfing down a bowl of Cheerios. You were startled a little, not used to more than just Simon in your home. You made your way to the medicine cabinet. “Sorry if she woke you guys up, she-“

Laswell interrupted you. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her, she’s still a baby.”

That made your heart swell a bit, you whispered a gentle, “Thank you.” You grabbed her medicine, preparing her syringe of bitter liquid while you heard the front door open and close. Heavy boots that sounded nothing like your husband’s entered the kitchen, you didn’t even glance to know that it was König. He was taller and most likely heavier than Simon, so it made sense he would also be louder. You were sure he was making noise to ease your mind.

“Guten Morgen.” He spoke, Laswell mumbled something into her coffee as you sat the baby on the counter in front of you. She sat up, face still stained with tears and her wails turned into whines as you took her little hand - you administered the medicine, Mellie gave a sour look and her eyes swelled with tears again. Not long after, her whines turned into wails again. There was no winning.

You were quick when you grabbed a small snack for yourself, carrying your infant back upstairs. The only plan you had was to keep a cold cloth against her head and debate whether or not taking her into A&E was a good idea. She’s terrified of new people, she’s screaming and crying non-stop, you weren’t sure if the added stress of new people would do her any good. But at least she had some prospect of getting some relief from this.

You swiftly gathered a cold wash cloth, Mellie grabbing your hair and t-shirt in distress as you did, wailing. You didn’t react to the hair pulling, you squeezed the water out from the cloth into the sink before letting the small cloth rest on top of her head. The baby squirmed, squealed, and whined - but the wails instantly ceased. Her tear stained face looked up at you before she slammed it into your collarbone, you winced in pain. “There we go, girlie. That’s gotta feel good.”

Winnie was still passed out in the middle of your bed, snoring away. You brought your baby back towards the bed, sitting down on it so you could keep an eye on both of your girls. Whines escaped Mellie for a few more moments before she finally calmed down, your hand cradling her head and arm holding her to your chest. You kissed her head then leaned back onto your pillows, trying to fight the exhaustion in your body but it was too much. Your eyes fluttered closed with your five year old beside you and your almost one year old finally napping on your chest. With every breath, you felt more comfortable - even with how much your head and lungs hurt, you would always feel comfortable when your girls slept beside you.

•••

“Paying attention, LT?” Gaz whispered from beside your husband. Ghost threw him a dirty look in a casual side eye, going back to marking up his map as Price continued to present on the mission. Ghost’s phone was in his hand, he was waiting for a call or text from you, like you usually do. It’s not abnormal for you to forget, Mellie can get clingy and he knows first hand how demanding Winnie can get.

“More than you are, Sergeant.” He answered, pencil dragging across a section of London suburbs where the target was likely to be hiding. Brent and Tower Hamlets. He vividly remembered finding his father on the streets in Tower Hamlets, fucked on some drug but still conscious to recognize that his thirteen year old son shouldn’t be in London. Simon still has that scar on his forehead from how hard his father hit him that night. The pencil skritch-ed around in a circle, those two suburbs seemed the right area the target would hide in. Easily to slip in and out of alleyways, a lot of drug activities and violent crime. When you’re an outcasted former Russian Mob drug mule, you can’t exactly sip the finest champagne on a balcony in The Ritz.

There was something bugging him in his head. Something he was missing. He had gone through his Ghost rituals in the car on the way to base, then on the plane to the small Piccadilly Circus safe house. Simon was not even a thought in his mind, nothing about Simon’s life was supposed to be distracting him - yet, all he could think about throughout this meeting was you.

How scared you must have been, giving birth to Mellie alone all those months ago. How hurt you were when you had lost your son. How happy you were that Simon finally got to know that you were pregnant again. How you were graceful in knowing he was leaving again. How he could recognize the pain in your eye when he told you, how his heart felt like it was being repeatedly stabbed when he watched you fight back tears.

Simon loved you. Ghost was not meant to love. He was meant to be a soulless monster, but after the nine months he spent at home with you and his children, the lines between Ghost and Simon Riley seem to bleed together. Where the mask couldn’t cover seemed to stay the devoted husband and father, while underneath the fabric balaclava, Ghost was ready to find his prey like the hunter he was.

“Dismissed.” Price’s voice broke Ghost from his thoughts, he instantly closed his folder of information and stood. He shuffled out of the briefing room, his hand crept to his phone in his pocket.

One phone call wouldn’t hurt.

•••

You felt nauseous when you woke up, but it passed easily after you sat in your dry bathtub, cheek to the wall of it. Maybe Mellie’s cold was passing, you wouldn’t be able to function if morning sickness caught you this time. You narrowly escaped it with Mellie and with your miscarried son, so you were genuinely praying you wouldn’t be throwing up every chance your body had for the next three months. Your baby monitor sat in your hand, Mellie was placed in her crib around 9am when she finally cried herself to sleep.

Laswell and Roach had taken Winnie to the park after lunch, which Laswell was gracious enough to make. It seemed the three operators were comfortable in your home, it made the stress of it all seem to ease. König stayed behind, stating that he was here to help with Mellie - which you thanked him but told him it wasn’t necessary. He had a job to do, which was to protect your family until the whole… whatever was blowing over. You weren’t sure if it was necessary that they were there, but after coming face to face with your supposedly non-existent father-in-law, the added security was more than welcome.

You only had one more day until the doctor’s appointment, you had given yourself by mid-afternoon to decide to take your daughter to A&E to get checked out sooner. If she got worse, you’d pack up your self, your baby, and your security detail and go. But now, you were cleaning up Winnie’s room. Making her bed, putting away what little toys she had gotten out.

It seemed like last week that you were putting a ten month old Winnie down for a nap, nestled in her Winnie the Pooh themed nursery. Now her soft yellow walls were a soft green, a color Winnie begged for to her father. He bent with little resistance, now she gets to hang her drawings of flowers and dinosaurs on her green walls. It wouldn’t be long before Simon would paint Mellie’s room whatever color she wanted, then the last upstairs room from its nursery yellow to your last baby’s favorite color. Your hands gripped Winnie’s duck patterned comforter, tucking it up to her pink pillow. You patted the soft object, just reminiscing on how much your life had changed in such little time.

There was barely any time for you to rest in your daughter’s room before you heard your baby begin to cry. You rose to your feet, moving out of Winnie’s room and crossing directly into Mellie’s nursery - where a cool breeze brushed through the room. Your eyebrows furrowed.

The window was open.

Mellie had stood up in her crib, hands gripped onto the side and screaming, face full of little tears. You were over to her in only three strides, pulling her up into your arms. She was still so warm, you were very worried now - you bounced your baby on your hip for just moment before you made a move towards the changing table. “Oh baby, baby, Mama’s gonna help.”

You tried to lay her on the table but she rolled towards you, still screaming and crying like someone was burning her ears off. “I know, honey, give Mama just a second-“

Something in your head clicked. Your hands instantly picked up your daughter, running your hand over her hair to try and smooth her as panic settled into the center of your chest. You needed to hold her, something in your body demanded you keep your hold on your daughter.

The window was open. When it wasn’t before. You did not open it, you would have heard her door opening on the baby monitor if König had come up to open a window. You never even thought it could be opened, you never tried. You took a step back, going to turn towards the door of the nursery. If you get downstairs quick enough, you may be able to warn König to tell Laswell and Roach not to come back. To keep Winnie away.

There was a loud thud from downstairs, your heartbeat in your throat as you heard it again and again and again. The air around you turned cold, goose flesh invaded your skin as you held your breath, waiting for König to come upstairs and tell you it was a false alarm. Mellie’s crying was loud in your ear, but the voice that came from downstairs was deafening.

“Y/N! RUN!”

You took one look towards the door and solid metal was pressed against the back of your head. Your body went still, your daughter screaming in pain right next to your ear. You heard a gunshot muffled by the walls of your home, your eyes squeezed shut as you cradled your daughter closer. With your heartbeat in your throat, you heard a low growl,

“Don’t move.”

••••

Simon pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the time begin to tick as your voicemail began to play.

“Hey love, I know you probably napping with the baby but jus’ wanted to check on ‘er. And you. Love you, see you soon.”

He settled the phone down on the table of the mess hall, a late lunch was what he was used to with planning extensive missions. Price gave him a curious look from across the table. “You usually don’t call her.”

“I know.” He answered, metal fork pushing around mushy peas on the tray. Something was scraping away in his chest, he couldn’t place the feeling.

“The girls will be fine.” Price assured Simon, taking a bite out of his stew. “There’s two operators and Laswell there. If anything were to happen, your girls would be safe.”

Simon glared at Price. “Still don’t appreciate being called in from my paternity leave.” The fork pierced a piece of cut up potato, eyes never leaving Price’s face.

“You didn’t have to agree.”

“If I didn’t, I’d get a disciplinary.” Simon took a bite of the stale potato, it was bland and soggy. “Can’t exactly lose my only income for my family.”

The table jostled as Soap ripped a chair out from beside Ghost, he didn’t even react as Soap dropped into his seat and his tray clattered onto the table. He began to chatter with Price, a happy smile on his lips and he ripped apart his bread roll to place on half on Simon’s tray. Simon took his phone back into his hand, opening it to a picture of his daughters. He gazed at it, tracing the shadow on your hand as it held up Mellie - your engagement and wedding rings glittered in the sunlight. He could remember that small smile on your face from that picture.

There’s no need to worry. They’ll be fine.

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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[lonewolfwriting89]

PRIMAL

Alpha!Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Alpha theme. Hints at Werewolf!Simon

A/N: A very late kinktober fic, hope you all enjoy 👻😈🐺 apologies for missing in action lately xoxo

————

Maybe it was the sunset.

Maybe it was the impending rain.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something different. Something electric. The dying light bled down through the trees across the face of a man that you thought you knew. There was something in that filtered light of early evening that made him even more desirable. A way that urged you to act on those fantasies that you had kept hidden in your secret heart.

You could smell the coming rain on the wind as it drifted lazily through the maze of trees and brush, the smell of summer. Maybe spring was known as the time for lovers, but the summer had always done it for you. Hot and moist, at times; pungent. Like the light scent of his sweat that teased your nose.

Simon exerted a kind of benevolent control over you. He had since the day you had met him, standing against a tree and watching you walk along the worn path beside the creek that led through the deep, dark woods. You’d asked his name many times, but he would never tell you, and he never asked for yours. How many weeks had you been walking with your new friend? Three? Four? And yet you still didn’t know what to call him.

This day had been different from the start. For one thing, the way he was dressed. He was leaning against his tree, as always, but gone was the rugged flannel shirt and heavy boots. He stood there nonchalantly in nothing but his faded black jeans. His feet were bare against the floor of the forest and his broad, triangular shaped torso disappeared into the narrow band of his pants. For the first time you were being given the opportunity to take in the sight of the muscles that had teased your waking dreams for the last few weeks. You were tortured with wonder at the thoughts of what was under his tight shirts, the muscle apparent, but modestly covered.

You liked what you saw. He was well built, rippling muscle tense and solid. His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

“Can I walk with you?”, he asked. He always asked the same question, never presuming. You smiled when you said yes. Could this handsome man really be so naïve as not to realise that the only reason you walked in the woods everyday was to see him?

Your hair was tucked deftly away from your face, underneath the hood of your red sweatshirt. The red of the shirt was the only splash of colour to stand out amid the lush greens and earthy browns of the woods. You wore cut off denim shorts and trainers below the red sweatshirt, enjoying the silk of air as it brushed your bare skin. The flapping tails of your white cotton blouse fluttered in the breeze where they hung from under the sweatshirt.

You both walked along the edge of the creek together for some time, watching as the sun began its descent in the western sky and the rain clouds began to gather darkly in a line to the east. The scent of copper came on the wind as the smell of the distant rain blew through the forest. The leaves turned their white undersides skyward with the updraft of the wind.

And that was when you came to the full realisation that you wanted this man. Right now. This quiet, unassuming man who walked and spoke with you for hours, never needing anything from you in return. That he didn’t seem to need you, made you want him more. Simon wasn’t aloof; he was just comfortable, confident. The smoothness of his walk and the grace with which he moved belied a sense of pure unselfconsciousness. The Man in the Woods was truly at home in his skin. At home in the forest.

Simon looked you in the eye and knew what was on your mind immediately. You looked away nervously, wondering how much truth he had seen in your face. You had nearly been lost in his frosted steel gaze. Lupine eyes.

“I want you—I’ve always wanted you”, he said matter-of-factly, “Will you have me?”.

“What?”, you asked, incredulously. You knew you heard him, but his words had stunned you momentarily.

“What did you say?”.

He stepped closer to you and you involuntarily backed away from him. When your back came into contact with the trunk of a large oak tree you abandoned your thoughts of flight. Where would you run anyway? Did you even want to run? The unexpected nature of his advance caught you off guard. It wasn’t how you were used to being approached by men. It wasn’t a corny line in a city bar. It was an honest, up front statement and a serious question, spoken with a purity of mind and an innocence that was out of place in such a lustful proposition.

“I said, I want you. Was that clearer for you?”.

You didn’t move, the stability of the huge tree at your back helped to hold you up on wobbling knees. You didn’t speak, your lips merely trembled.

He leaned against the tree, an arm on either side of your head, as he leaned slowly down, putting his face level with yours. His scent surrounded you, drowning you in an overwhelming lust. Simon whispered again, “Will you have me?”.

You lowered your glimmering eyes and reached your hands out, taking his hips and guiding him against your body.

You felt Simon’s muscled chest pressing against yours, forcing your shoulders back against the curve of the tree trunk, making your breasts stand out, high and proud. He took the zipper to your red sweatshirt and brought it down slowly, in one fluid motion, sweeping it from your shoulders. He stripped you of the sweatshirt and discarded it at your feet. Your nipples pebbled under your flimsy blouse, poking out under the white cotton.

His hand snaked up your body from thigh to breast, his fingers capturing your nipple, rolling it, pinching it. You mewled softly, turning your head and closing your eyes, taking in every sensation.

He leaned in and you tilted your head to receive his kiss, your mouth slightly open, lower lip still trembling. You felt the familiar hot, wet sensation in the juncture of your thighs, but rarely this heated or this soaked. Your pussy pulsed along with your pounding heart and you began to subtly thrust your hips forward, grinding your mound into the hard bulge in his pants.

Just short of completing the kiss, he stopped, extending his tongue slowly and softly, tracing it delicately along the edge of your lips. Feather soft and deliberate, his tongue stretched out and licked your full lips. Your tongue waited impatiently, desperately wanting to reach out and welcome Simon into your mouth, but you held back. The longing was exquisite torture and you were about to burst when he finally crushed your lips to his.

Too soon he broke the passionate kiss, pulling away from you with a quick, soft bite to your lower lip, tugging it gently with his sharp teeth. Had they always been that sharp? Your mind was hazy with pleasure. With one hand he pulled your hair, maybe a bit too roughly, but you had no complaint. With the other hand he began working the button and zipper of your denim shorts, expertly opening the front of your pants to his exploring fingers. Your soft cotton panties were pink and offered no resistance as his hand dove beneath the thin elastic waistband, to your boiling centre.

Simon’s thick fingers nudged and teased your engorged clit, stroking it softly. He nibbled at your neck, drawing your skin into his mouth and brushing it lightly with his tongue. The pressure of his teeth and the softness of his tongue combined to drive you over the edge.

Buttons be damned, you thought, ripping open your blouse, exposing your firm, peaked breasts. Your own hands found their way to his head, entwining fingers in his silken hair and urging his head down to your breasts. Simon happily complied, moving down and sucking one pert nipple into his mouth. As you moaned from the new sensation at your breast, he slipped a finger tentatively inside of you, eliciting an even stronger moan.

As with your lip, he bit softly on your nipple and tugged, slowly rolling his tongue over the puckered skin surrounding it. He pulled you away from the tree, just far enough to slip the white cotton blouse completely from your body, and then he pushed the bare skin of your back against the rough bark, as he moved to your other nipple. You squeezed and released handfuls of his hair, pressing his face to your chest, as he dropped the white blouse on top of the red sweatshirt. Fabric becoming damp from the dew on the floor.

A small cry escaped your lips when the long, thick finger in your pussy found just the spot. Taking that cue, he concentrated his ministrations in that area, and soon you were cumming, walls spasming around his digit. Your body went rigid against the tree, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as the small spasms coursed through you in slow, undulating waves. You pressed yourself greedily against his hand, wanting the waves to go on and on. The sensations at your breast and core were overpowering, your body shuddering, breath ragged.

The distant rain finally caught up to you both, coming down through the heavy forest canopy, making the woods around you sizzle with every little drop. The cold rain on your hot skin sent up little plumes of steam, and Simon let out a moan of pure ecstasy, low and drawn out, luxuriating in the feel of the water on his flesh. He turned his face up, letting the rain drip lazily onto his face, into his mouth. You cast your eyes down and watched the tiny rivulets making their way down his muscular chest and abdomen, through the little line of hair coming up from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing into them.

Brazenly, you allowed your tongue to follow their trails, dragging your tongue hungrily down Simon’s neck, biting and kissing as you went. Down over his chest, stopping to lick and suck his nipple. Biting and kissing down over his stomach, you soon found yourself on your knees in front of him, eyes fastened on the tautly stretched fabric of the denim over his crotch, the shape and size of his cock obvious as it pressed against his hip. You nibbled along his shaft through the jeans, up to the head and back down, pressing soft kisses against the bulge.

Simon felt he was going to explode when you dragged your teeth firmly along the same path that you had just nibbled, your hands coming up and massaging his heavy balls. He groaned gruffly, fists clenched at his sides, fighting for control.

The button was hard to open, due to the tightness of his pants, but you managed and your fingers took the clasp of his zipper, pulling down slowly, one agonising tooth at a time. When you finally had lowered the zipper enough to allow, his cock sprung out, achingly hard and visibly pulsing. With every beat of his heart it leapt slightly. The head was a dark purple and the shaft had one large vein running across the top. It disappeared into the patch of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen.

A glistening drop of clear liquid formed in the slit at its crown and you darted your tongue out, touching it briefly to the tip of his cockhead. The little drop held to your tongue in a long, thick string before breaking and dropping onto your bottom lip and chin.

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gripped it firmly, giving a little squeeze and watching with delight as more of the clear liquid oozed out. Simon groaned again, reaching out and placing his hands gently against the sides of your head, urging you forward, pleading wordlessly. You looked up and met his gaze, staring down at you with pure black eyes, hungry and needful, almost violent in their gleam. His lips were parted and he breathed slowly and heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving.

One long shiver coursed through his entire body when you finally bent your head and took him into your mouth. Your eyes had been just as hungry as his and you devoured him ravenously, sliding your lips up and down his hard length, feeling every ridge and sinewy knot beneath the skin. You let your saliva pool on your tongue and spread it liberally over his shaft, slipping your mouth down until your nose was pressed into his hair, and then pulling back slowly with a long sucking motion, before diving right back down. You took him into your throat and coaxed him with the muscular contractions you could produce, summoning the load from him. You pulled back once more and heard him grunt and then groan again, feeling his cock swell further in your mouth.

“Not yet”, he breathed, desperately pulling his throbbing hardness from your mouth. He was going to explode if you didn’t stop and he had very precise intentions for his seed. It was not to be wasted.

A few more loving licks along his cock was all you had time for before he grabbed your shoulders and brought your to your feet. Once again, he pressed your back against the oak tree harshly.

Simon slid down your body onto his knees, his tongue delving quickly into your naval, and then dipping down to the edge of your pink panties. As he nuzzled your sex through your shorts, he slipped off your shoes and socks, his big, calloused hands slipped leisurely up your legs. From your ankles to your knees he teased your skin with his fingertips, a slight tickling across the backs of your knees. His hands reached up behind you, grabbing your ass and pressing your body to his face. Simon grabbed the loosened waistband of your denim shorts, brought them down smoothly and you stepped out of them, arching your back against the tree for stability. Just as quickly he brought his hands back up and grabbed the elastic band of your panties and brought them down, baring your completely to his eyes.

Ravenous.

Leaning his head forward, he placed a firm lip kiss above your cleft, inhaling your scent deeply as he pulled away. Driven by your smell, he lunged at you, biting into your hip, the last vestiges of his self-control being all that stood between pleasure and pain. A surprised gasp, followed by a soft moan, answered his bite.

The rain began to come down heavier, the canopy of the forest barely slowing the drops. A cool wind picked up, twisting through the trees like a sentient being, seeking and finding the two lovers. You both shivered, but only partly from the chill.

Simon picked up your right leg and placed it over his shoulder, spreading your for his kiss. His tongue moved out slowly, finding your clit, engorged and reddened. Pulsing with animalistic desire. You raised your head and cried out, one arm bent back along the trunk of the tree, the other holding his head. You involuntarily ground your pussy onto his face, hard against his mouth. Your left leg nearly buckled when he curled his tongue around your clit and gently sucked it into his mouth, coaxing your orgasm in much the same way you had attempted to bring his. He sucked at you softly, yet voraciously. He was a man starving for you, trying to engulf you entirely into himself. A deep, resounding growl rose from his throat, the air vibrating from his lips and sending you once again over that edge.

You let out a small scream just as a distant clap of thunder began to rumble over the forest. You rode the waves of the thunder as it faded away. You cried again, another orgasm ripping through you, pulling your entire being to your centre. To his mouth.

The tree bark was rough on your back, possibly cutting your flesh, but you were beyond caring. You leaned forward, pressing harder to his lips, and then slamming yourself back against the tree in pure wantonness, over and over. There was no pain. Only blinding pleasure.

You didn’t realise it when he brought your leg from his shoulder and back to the ground, so lost in ecstasy. Your body trembled still, the remnants of the climax still rippling outward from your core, as you sagged against the oak, eyes closed. Every nerve in your body refocused its intention to carrying on the devastating feelings coursing through it.

The ripples were coming slower as the thunderstorm grew ever closer. You tried to sink into the tree, to feel everything at once. You felt the cool rain dripping on your skin, a trailing drop running to, and then going around your nipple. You curled your toes into the wet, mossy ground. The soft murmur of the rain on the leaves sang to you.

A loud, obnoxious clap of thunder brought you out of your reverie and your eyes snapped open. You gasped, startled, as you realised that you were face to face with Simon again. He was gazing at you with a predatory gleam in his icy eyes.

In one move he was against your body and inside you, sliding up into you as you stood against the tree. With his hands on your hips Simon raised your body and lowered you onto his cock, thrusting himself madly into you, too insistent to care about anything else.

You turned your cheek against the tree, exposing your neck, and he could no longer hold back. A bestial groan escaped his lips, followed by a snarl through clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body was wire taut, the force of his thrusts lifting you from your feet, suspended between the tree and Simon. You planted your feet firmly on top of his thighs and rode him, taking each pounding stroke as deep as gravity and flesh would allow.

His eyes remained focused on the smooth curve of your neck, the delicate slope to your shoulder. The need began to slip from the corners of his mouth as he saw and heard your pulse. Simon couldn’t take it. He lunged forward and bit you, hard. Too hard. You cried out, but you never broke your stride. He tasted a small bit of your blood on his tongue and it drove him to the point of rage.

Lightning split the sky just above, with an instantaneous crack of thunder. Not far away from you both, a tree fell, burnt and smouldering. The rain was pounding down on you. The wind drove it down and into the forest, hard against your rutting bodies.

You screamed with another orgasm and he howled with rage, pain and lust as he emptied himself inside of you. Thunder and lightning crashed above you, pale in comparison to the rapacious nature of the beast coursing through both of you. Simon looked into your eyes and saw the lightning flash. You looked into his and saw the truth of what he was. Half man, half beast.

You rode out the storm and the passion, moving slowly, kissing and touching. Caressing. You brought your feet back to the ground, pumping your hips slowly, letting him go soft inside of you as the storm blew away, almost as quickly as it came.

At last, he slipped from your core and he stepped away from you. You said nothing. The rain dripping from the forest canopy, the receding thunder, and your breathing were the only sounds. With his hand he softly stroked your cheek, gazing intently into your eyes. Then he turned and walked away, naked, into the heart of the forest.

You watched him go, wondering if you would ever see him again. Touching your hand to the bleeding bite at the bend of your neck, you winced absently. The pain was negligible, but it would surely leave a scar. A scar that would undoubtedly tie you to him.

The thunder rolled on and a wolf howled in the distance, answered by the howls of many others. Through the canopy of trees you could see the moon trying to peek out from behind the lingering storm clouds.

Only now, it seemed to call to you.

————

[bravo4iscool]

you’re kidnapped (simon “ghost” riley)

this little os is from this anon right here!

TW: mentions of blood and gore, hints of torture, russians (please get the joke😭), serious injuries

word count: 1.9k

(masterlist)

Ghost storms into the meeting, his eyes blown wide and his chest heavily heaving. He’s still clutching his phone in his hand and any other person would be afraid of breaking it.

Price looks up, clearly confused. But before the Captain can talk Ghost shuts the door behind him.

“They have her,” he says in a low voice and to someone who doesn’t know Ghost it would sound normal, but to Price it didn’t. His best Lieutenant, the man who feared nothing, was anxious. His voice was off and Price could see nothing but pure fear in Ghost’s eyes.

“They got who?” Soap asks, turning his head at Ghost. What the fuck was his LT. talking about?

But Ghost doesn’t pay any attention to the Scot. He keeps staring at Price. “They have my wife,” he then says and Soap’s brain shortcuts.

What the fuck? Ghost had a wife? The Sergeant looks at Price and now he’s even more confused. Price knows about that wife?

Price eyes narrow and he stands up. “You figured where she is already?” he asks and Ghost shakes his head.

“No. But Laswell’s onto it. She still owns me one.”

“Good. Any indication where she could be?” Price starts walking around, his gaze not leaving Ghost.

“Yes.”

Price claps his hands together and nods at Ghost. “Well then, let’s gear up and roll out. We don’t have much time.”

Ghost slightly narrows his head and Price knows that the look in the Lieutenants eyes means ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Soap hesitantly stands up, still more than confused but as soon as Ghost leaves the room he runs after his superior.

He needs to find out since when Ghost has a wife and why his LT. never told him and Gaz about her.

-

“LT.” Soap speaks into the comms as he carefully surrounds an enormous brick building somewhere in the outer regions of Manchester.

“What do ya want Soap?” Ghost’s voice is on an edge as he answers his Sergeant. His finger, placed on the trigger, twitches. He’s more than ready to slaughter everyone who’s separating him from his wife.

“Since when do ye hav’ a lass? Why’d ye never told us ‘bout ‘er?” Soap carefully lifts his rifle and opens a back door. He was in. It was only a matter of time when he’d engage with the enemy.

“Ya nev’r asked,” is Ghost’s short reply as he skillfully shoots down a tango. He moves further forward, his eyes snapping from left to right.

He wasn’t allowed to make a mistake. Your life was at risk and he would and could never forgive himself if he’d lose you just because he made a damn mistake.

He checked door after door and slowly he was running out of patience but then Gaz started to talk via comms.

“I think I found her.”

“Where are you?” Ghost stops and suddenly his head starts to spin. They found you? Would he finally be able to rescue you?

“2nd floor, three doors from the staircase.” Gaz’ voice was quiet and hushed.

“Are you 100% postitive?” Price now asked and Gaz confirmed.

“Was I ever wrong?” he asks in a playful voice and Ghost rolls his eyes. This was serious. This wasn’t training or anything. This was about you.

“You fell outta a chopper,” Soap snorts and giggles to himself as he continues to clear the building.

“Fuck off MacTavish,” Gaz grumbles the reply, shutting the comms off.

-

Your eyes are heavy and your head spins, your ears ringing as the man opposite to you starts to interrogate you again.

You stopped paying attention and replying god knows how long ago but they didn’t stop. They kept going, even slapping you harshly from time to time. You don’t feel it anymore though.

There’s blood running from you nose, you’re mouth and you’re pretty sure your cheek bones are also covered in bruises. You just want this to be over. You just want Simon to rescue you.

“Так,” you hear the man say and moments later you feel a pair of hands lifting your head to look at him. Another man held your face so you’d look at your interrogator.

“Вы хотите поговорить сейчас?,” he asks you and you give yourself imaginary shoulder pats for actually learning Russian back in school.

You say nothing, only shaking your head. The man laughs. “As stubborn as that husband of yours.” He turns to look at one of his men, motioning at you. “стрелять в неё.” Then he leaves.

Your eyes widen as one of the man, you were pretty sure they called him Vita, pointed his hand gun at you.

You start to struggle against your restraints, fresh tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t- You couldn’t die. Not yet, not now! What about Simon? What about the life you two wanted to build?

“Little brat,” Vita curses as he tries to follow you head with his gun but you were struggling too much.

“просто нажать на курок” another man, Maxim, tells Vita, obviously nervous. He’s been talking via comms for the last minutes but your Russian was too bad to understand all of it.

“They’re here Vita and it won’t take them long to find us, so cut it short. Now!” Maxim’s voice is strained and he keeps checking the door. You knew what that meant. They found you. Ghost found you. Not Simon, no… now he was Ghost.

“He will kill you, rip you apart,” you then say, feeling blood drip from your mouth. “He will hunt you down and make sure you’ll regret anything you ever did.” You stare at Vita, waiting for him to shoot, praying that he wouldn’t.

“поторопитесь, вита,” Maxim urges again, his eyes flicking to the door. He heard something.

Vita looks at you, then at the door. The moment his eyes flick to the door it’s kicked in and it’s raining bullets.

You shut your eyes, making yourself as small as possible while you hear Vita and Maxim drop dead to the floor. Your body is shaking and you feel tears running down your cheeks.

When Ghost sees you strapped to that chair all his fuses blow. He rushes past the dead bodies and rips off his mask. He kneels down in front of you, carefully speaking to you.

“Lovie, it’s me…” he says and he lets out a relieved breath when you look at him, eyes empty.

When he’s sure you know who he is he quickly cuts you free and carefully takes you in his arms. Your wrists are bruised and bloody, as well as your face but he’s never been happier to have you in his arms.

“Ya safe now. ‘Am ‘ere and I’ll get ya outta ‘ere.” He presses you close to him and a single tears rolls down his cheek. He’s got you back. You’re safe now. You’re with him…

Price walks into the room, tightly gripping his rifle. “Everything’s clear. We’re ready for evac. Is she okay? Does she need a medical?” He walks in further, looking at your fragile form in Ghost’s arms.

“She’s fine f’r now I think,” Ghosts replies and he carefully stands up, holding you close in his arms. “We’ll get ya outta ‘ere,” he mumbles and you warily nod. You just wanted to go home…

Carefully Ghost stands up, his arms around you tightening. “Let’s go?” he says to Price and the Captain nods.

“Gonna watch your six,” Price says. Ghost nods, a subtle but deep ‘thank you’.

With faithful steps Ghost hurries out of the room, his eyes flicking down to you again and again. “You shouldn’t carry me…” you whisper, well aware of the fact that you were probably slowing him down.

He doesn’t look at you, only scanning the surroundings with his eyes. “I fucked ya against a wall. I’ll be able t’ carry ya outta ‘ere.” That’s his answer. Simple and plain.

You try to suppress a small smile but you can’t. You press your face against his vest, whispering a quiet ‘I love you’. And while your husband carries you out of that building your feel your head starting to spin and dizziness overcomes you…

-

“What d’ya mean, internal bleeding?” Ghost paces up and down in the hospital corridor, not caring about the fact that people were staring at him. Of course you would stare at a 6’4 man who’s build like a fucking fridge and wears a skull mask. He often found him staring at himself in the reflection of windows.

“She’s got internal bleeding, Sir. That’s also the reason why she’s in surgery,” a nurse calmly explains, not frightened by the man in front of her. “As soon as I get new information I will tell them to you, but right now, I’m afraid, there’s not much I can do for you, Sir…”

Ghost wants to swear and curse but he knows that he needs to keep himself at bay. He wasn’t alone here, people were watching. He needed to calm himself down. Now.

So, he lets out a deep breath and nods. “Tell me when she’s out as soon as possible, please.” He tries to not show how anxious he is but his but his wife was in surgery right now because he wasn’t able to properly look after her… He wanted to explode.

“Of course Sir,” the nurse gives him a warm smile. “Feel free to sit down or get yourself a coffee. It could take a while…” Ghost absently nodded and she left. What was he supposed to do now?

“Any news?” Price wants to know when the team joins Ghost in the hospital. He just shakes his head and puts it in his hands.

If he’d only looked better after you…

If he’d only was more careful…

If he’d only kept you safe…

“Still ‘n surgery,” he mumbles, trying so hard not to go crazy. He’s been waiting hours now, but it felt like days. His head was spinning, thoughts were crashing in his mind and guilt was almost eating him alive. What had he done?

“She’ll make it son, don’t worry,” Price says in a calm voice, placing his hand on his Lieutenant’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. Just like you…”

-

Your head hurts when your senses return and you start stirring. Then you feel a hand on yours and your eyes fly open. Where are you?

With panicked eyes you look around, completely ignoring the pain in the back of your head. Was this a…hospital?

“Darling,” you hear a voice. That sounds like Simon… Your eyes follow the voice and you look at your husband. “Hey…” he smiles at you, clutching your hand. “How are ya?”

“Shit,” you whisper in a small voice, trying your best to return the squeezes he gave your hand. Then he gently lifts it and presses a small kiss onto the back of it.

“Am sorry,” he says while he continues to caress your hand and wrist. “Should’ve look’d out bett’r f’r ya…” He averts his gaze and you immediately try to shake your head. You knew he would beat himself up over what happened. It wasn’t his fault.

“Not your fault,” you croak out, intertwining your hands. He looks up with glassy eyes and you swear you’ve never seen him that destroyed.

“I could’ve lost ya…” he whispers. “Could’ve lost ya f’r good ‘nd I wouldn’t b’ able t’ f’rgive m’self.”

“I’m here,” you weakly smile. “And I surely won’t leave…” You would never leave Simon. He was the love of you life. When you’re with him you feel complete and you never wanted to miss out on that again.

[sstormyskyess]

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dog with No Teeth // Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

Like deer meat picked off by carrion birds, you are plucked up during a scavenging raid by tactical-clad men all in black. There is no possibility of returning to your old life. You’re forced to assimilate, to conform to the remaining dredges of society. With that comes a choice: select someone to marry or the government will do it for you. You make the rash choice, selecting the skull-faced stranger that snatched you in the first place.

Overall Warnings: Post-Apocalyptic AU, dubcon, forced marriage, forced proximity, eventual lovers, breeding, pregnancy, canon-typical violence

Chapters: Ongoing

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty

** indicates a Community Label

ao3 // main masterlist

[outoftheseine]

- SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY FIC RECS -

a lot of dad!simon fics here. i am not sorry. i want to bear this man's child(ren) | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

haunted | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (heavy angst, tw: depression, drugs, addiction suicide, toxic relationship, please read the warnings!)

too old for you | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x medic!fem!reader

↳ by @lunarw0rks (smut, hurt/comfort, age-gap)

soft spot • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @cordeliawhohung

the red means, i love you • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader x john 'soap' mactavish

↳ by @thewriterg

smashing pumpkins • simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!fem!reader

↳ by @qwimchii

last kiss | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (angst, unestablished relationship, smut, fluff)

secret lovers | part 2 • husband!simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

↳ by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted

my baby swingin' • biker!simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @tojisun (very sexy biker!simon, smut, fluff)

happiness • simon 'ghost' riley x wife!fem!reader

↳ by @lethalchiralium (i feel so fuzzy when i read this series, fluff, sometimes angst, some tw be aware)

i'm with you | keep you close • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @undercoverpena (angst, feelings, explicit)

being yelled at by ghost | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @hxltic (angst! simon is an asshole)

northern attitude | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @bubbles-for-all-of-us (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst)

lights on • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @peachesofteal (single mom!reader, fluff, slight angst, protective!simon)

one night stand | part 2 | part 3 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @cmncisspnandmore

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

break in, break down • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @hyperactively-me (home invasion, comfort, fluff)

his girls • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

one fucking mistake • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @codfanficedits (very angsty, hurt but no comfort for a whilez grieving, tw:depression)

book boyfriend • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @stargirlrchive (fluff)

lime-sized • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (pregnant!reader, very fluffy)

bloodied bullets, soft confessions • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @ghosts-cyphera (a little mean!simon, hurt/comfort, injuries, fluffy end)

monster • neighbor!simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @rowarn (smut, protective!simon, zombie au)

unmasked love • simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @springtyme (so so so cute! dad!simon)

adoration • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (dad!simon, fluff)

simon 'ghost' riley x sensitive!gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff and nswf content)

this chapter is over • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @colonelarr0w (character death, angst, injuries, some fluff)

simon says • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (smut)

salt in an old wound • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!oc!reader

↳ by @ghouljams (hurt/comfort, explicit content, fae au)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @alwaysshallow (friends to lovers, the continuation is on ao3!)

antique soldiers • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @mangowafflesss

why? • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, slightly explicit at the end)

cold but warm • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

pretty pink flowers and bloody cherry blossom tree • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @underscorewriting (really really angsty, ugly cried)

for the last time • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @wttcsms (pregnant!reader, mentions of death, angst but fluff)

welcome home • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @nastybuckybarnes (home invasion, arguing, fluff)

medical leave • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kib-ble (mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff)

no more stars left to count • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @lvlyghost (angst, hurt/comfort)

protective • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @ponyosmom35 (medic!reader, protective!simon, tw: sexual harassement)

return • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @bruhrobs (fluff, colleagues to lovers, single mom!reader)

[sofasoap]

Reason for life

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Simon Riley finally made up his mind.

Right after the event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. discussion of unhappy childhood, OC children, discussion of abuse, near death. Angst. slight deviation from canon as well.

A/N : I finally got to Simon. and this rounds up the task force 141 proposal series. *sigh*

 “masterlist”

“Captain.” 

Head down, buried in paperwork, Price only let out a grunt, acknowledging Ghost’s presence. 

“John.” 

Price’s hand stalled. Slowly putting his pen down, finally looking up. 

Ghost standing in front the desk, hands behind his back, shoulder slightly hunched. Price noticed the redness in his fatigue looking eyes. Redder than usual. He noted. 

“Can I talk to you,” Ghost requested, voice soft, as he eyes the soldiers lingering around in the office,  “In private please.” 

Price stared at him for few seconds, before commanding the soldiers. “Alright, everyone out please. Lieutenant and I have important business to discuss.” Price stood up, ushering everyone out. 

Making sure the door is locked, Price turned back towards the desk, gesturing to Ghost to sit. Pushing the paperwork and files aside, Price took out a bottle of whisky and two tumbler glasses from the cabinet behind him. 

Pouring into each of the glasses, he pushed one towards Ghost. Ghost just stares at the drink, motionless for a while before he pulls his balaclava off, exhaustion evident on his pale looking face. 

“Do you still have the box?” Simon broke the silence after he drained the whisky from the tumbler. 

“So you made up your mind?” Price asked, raising his eyebrows, knowing what he was asking for. 

“I can’t delay it any longer. I .. I don’t want another regret.” Voice croaked, “I nearly lost her twice. I don’t.. I don’t know.. “ Simon buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. “I would not forgive myself if I miss the chance again. If I can live through the nightmare again.” 

Price has noticed Simon hasn’t been himself lately, after the incident. He was quieter than usual, not even responding to any of Soap or Gaz’s attempt of banter or teasing. Burying deep into his own mind. 

The mission has traumatised Simon, and made him realise things. 

Another prolonged silence lingered between the two. Price took up the bottle, pouring another serve to each of the glasses.

“I’ll get it out from the safe for you tomorrow, Simon. Don’t worry. She wouldn’t say no.” Price comforted Simon. “Good luck Si. I am glad you finally made up your mind.” 

Simon slams the tin box onto the table, more forceful than he intended. He winced slightly at his mistake as he saw you frowning. 

You stare at the box with a cup of tea in hand, making no attempt to reach for it. He watches you, waiting for your next move. 

“What is that?” You asked,  finally curiosity got the better of you. 

“Box.” 

“Of course I know it’s a box.” you rolled your eyes, huffed at his silly answer. “What’s inside the box?” you asked. 

“Things my grandmother left for me,” he whispered. “Open it. Please.” 

Pushing the cup aside, you reach for the box,  Simon’s heart twisted as he sees you open the lid with slight difficulty. Your hands and face were still covered with dressings and bandages from the injuries acquired from the terrorist incident. You are still alive. He closed his eyes, deep breaths in as he tells himself, calming that distress and panic rising from his stomach. You are here in front of him. Everything is alright. 

His eyes open again when he hears the pop of the tin lid. You slowly and gently shuffled through the black and white photos, fading letters, and all sorts of trinkets were inside there.  Simon held onto his breath as you took out the item he wanted you to have the most. 

You held the green velvet box in your palm, like a fragile china doll, afraid it would shatter any minute. Your eyes flicked up towards him, and down at the box again. 

He nodded his head to urge you to open the velvet box. 

Your breath hitched as you saw two simple gold bands inside.

“My grandmother left me this box before she passed on.” Simon explained. Your eyes open slightly wider, he never talked about his grandparents before. “The only happy memories I have from my childhood. Her and grandpa shielded me from the violence and cruelty that my fath… father… “ he shook his head, body shaking with the painful memory. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “She left this in my possession. Her and grandpa’s wedding bands,  along with their photos and correspondence when they were courting.They were married for nearly sixty years before grandpa passed away.” Simon whispered with a sad smile and glint of tears in Simon’s eyes.

Your expression softens as you listen to him, recalling memories. 

Raising his head to look at you right in the eyes, “You gave me a reason to live, a reason for life. You and the children.” He professed as he took a deep breath, voice shaking. “I can’t apologise enough for the actions and the way I treated you.. I can’t lose you again. I nearly lost you, because of my stupidity. My own selfishness, My….”

“Simon.” You put the box down, reaching for his hand across the table, to stop his rambling.“ Both of us were in a bad mindset back then. There were too many things happening at once. We can’t go back. We can only move forward.” You lean your body forward, kissing his hand lightly. “If this is what I think it is, my answer is yes.” 

He let go of your hand as he stood up abruptly, going around the table to scoop you up into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness as his tears stream down your neck and shoulder, silently crying with relief. 

The weight is finally off his shoulder. 

He feels your arm reaching around his broad torso, squeezing tight.

“I love you very much, Simon Riley. The children love their Da as well, they ask about you all the time when you are away.”  you murmured, as you professed your love for him. “We will always be here for you, to welcome you home, and be your harbour when the storm comes, be your shelter when the time turns bad. You know you can trust and rely on us. Also the team as well. You have a family. You have us.” 

Pulling away from him, you gently grasp his hand, putting it over your heart.

“This is yours forever now. My love. For whatever challenges may come to us again. We will face it together.”

Simon is finally home. 

tag list:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana@cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage@nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar

@whydoilikewhump @gamergirlbones

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”