#simon ghost riley x gn!reader

[rileyslibrary]

It’s lunchtime at the military base, and you can’t decide what to eat. Ghost is getting hangry.

———————————————————————

“It’s a simple question,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“Are you hungry?” He asks and lifts his hands.

“Yes, sir.”

“What exactly are you hungry for?”

“I-I don’t know.”

He drops his arms to his sides and sits at the corner of his desk. He touches the back of his neck with one hand while supporting himself with the other.

“Every fucking day, you do this to me,” he murmurs. “If you don’t decide this time, I’ll go eat alone.”

“Oh! Is that so?” You squint and hunch forward at your desk.

“Yes!” He yells as he stands up and walks towards you. “Yes, I will. In fact, I would love to.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and your jaw drops. How dare he? You’d been teammates for years, sticking with him through thick and thin, never betraying him once. But now he...

“...Would love to?!”

“That’s right!” He snaps and slams his hands against your desk. “So, for the last time: What. Will. It. Be?”

You lean back in your chair and bite your pen while considering your options. Ghost’s gaze darts from you to the pen, then back. He groans and grabs the pen from your hand, tossing it to the side.

“Pens are off the menu today,” he declares, snapping his fingers, “I need an answer. Now.”

Dumfounded, you stare at the pen on the floor. If someone else had done this to you, you would have slapped them in the face. Worse, if he had watched anyone else treat you that way, he would have ripped their limbs off their body.

But he’s hangry. As insignificant as this conversation appears, he doesn’t handle his hunger with the same poise he handles other, more complex situations. Not only that, but your indecisiveness doesn’t help, either. You need to make a decision quickly, so you sit up straight and place your hands on the table.

“What are my options again?” you ask.

“Pizza or burger.” He replies sternly.

“I don’t want piz—”

“Burger it is, then,” he says with a nod. He knocks his knuckles twice on the desk and strides towards the office door.

“W-wait, Ghost, wait!”

He sighs and leans against the door, his hand on the handle.

“I don’t like the base’s burgers.” You mumble.

“Nobody likes the base’s burgers!” he yells. “But we still eat them!”

“I was wondering,” you say and lower your voice, “if there is another choice?”

He’s softly bashing his head against the door, and you try to persuade him that there should be a third option—a vegetarian meal, perhaps. In response, he begins making whimpering noises. He’s the one getting on your nerves now.

“You know what?” you snap, “I’ll go check by myself.”

He extends a hand in your direction and shows you his palm.

“No, no, no, no!” he cries. “You join the others in the queue, and the entire base will starve until you decide!”

You scoff at his sarcasm, and he opens the door.

“Listen,” he says, “I’ll go check and call you, okay?”

“LIEUTENANT!” you shout, but he slams the door behind him. You peek over at his desk. “You forgot your phone...” you murmur to yourself.

The lieutenant was a very cold man when you first met him. His responses were limited to yeses and nos with the occasional shrug, and he never joined you in everyday job activities, especially at lunchtime. You’d always eat alone in the mess hall, and if your breaks coincided with that of Gaz or Soap’s, you’d sit with them and eat lunch together. Ghost would normally sit in the office or hide in a corner around the base and eat since he didn’t want anyone to see him without his mask. But slowly, he came to trust you all with his face, and you’d eat together, locked in your office.

You look at the time. Given his hunger when he left, he should have returned five minutes ago. What if he gave up on you and is already eating with the rest? Sure, your indecisiveness annoys him, especially since he has to deal with it daily, but he’d never let you eat alone, right? On the other hand... he may be trying to teach you a lesson.

You take another glance at the time. This doesn’t feel right. You start cleaning up your desk to head for the kitchen, but someone knocks on the door.

“It’s open,” you announce, “come on in!”

“I’ve got my hands full.” You hear Ghost reply.

You walk up to the door and swing it open. Ghost stands there with a serving trolley full of dishes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs while he pushes the trolley inside the office.

“You forgot your phone!” you inform him.

“I didn’t forget it,” he says as he stops the trolley in front of your desk. “I’d rather put my bare hand in a fire and let it simmer than add a third option to your dilemma and let you decide while there’s a queue of starving soldiers behind me.”

He removes the plates from the trolley and arranges them on your desk. “Here’s the fucking pizza, the fucking shitburger, and the tofu version of the shitburger.”

He places another plate with five pizza slices on his desk. He removes his mask and immediately slaps a piece in his mouth.

“That’s a lot of food, Lt.,” you whisper, scanning the plates before you.

He turns his head towards you and keeps chewing. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing, “better have all the options in front of you than squeeze any reserve of patience I have left.”

You take a slice of pizza from your tray and bite into it.

He stares at you, raises his plate to the sky, and rambles about how “you didn’t want pizza before.” You clarify that, while you still don’t want pizza, it appears to be the best option among the three.

“However,” you continue, “I would murder for a good burger.”

He swallows and takes a second pizza slice from his plate.

“I know a place,” he explains. “We can go tonight.”

“Lieutenant, you smooth operator!” you tease, “like on a date?”

He nods and takes another mouthful. He doesn’t even bother looking at you. He’s too preoccupied with nourishing his massive body to worry about your mocking.

“What kind of a place is it?” You ask.

“It’s a shithole,” he says, “but it does the best burgers you’ve ever had.”

“So, what should I wear?”

He stops eating and aggressively shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “I won’t get involved in your woes again—I’ll give you the address, and you’ll be there at 8 p.m.”

“Are you going to email me the menu so I can decide what to eat ahead of time?”

He swallows and looks at you. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, taking another bite.

“Why?”

“Because there’s no menu at my place.”

———————————————————————

[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)

[allllium]

I know people say this a lot but Ghost literally gives you everything. I don't just mean buying you things, I mean acts of service, I mean all the happiness you never thought you could have.

When you're his, you're his. All the way.

You want an overly expensive piece of jewelry or something you collect, you're getting it. You want to move across the country, he's packing everything for the both of you.

Anything you ask of him he'll give you, even things you don't even know you want. He knows you better than you know yourself because he focuses so intensely on everything you say.

He wants nothing more than to give you everything he can because he's so scared you'll never know how much you mean to him.

And no matter how long you're together he'll never believe he's doing enough for you.

[mockerycrow]

Frozen Fingertips [2/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - part one

Summary: Ghost struggles to keep you alive through these harsh times.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys enjoyed part one!! i did not shrink the font of this one because i realized that it may strain some peoples’ eyes. this is not as angsty as i wished it to be, and it isn’t as long as i hoped. i apologize. tbh i don’t like this, but i hope y’all enjoy

[WARNINGS: Descriptions of developing hypothermia and frost bite, delirium, near-death experience(s), angst to fluff.]

THE BLIZZARD WAS not stopping and it didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon, which honestly terrifies Ghost because of your awful condition. Despite his previous efforts, you quickly slipped back into a delirious state of developing hypothermia—a state you weren’t completely aware of, but you knew something was wrong. You could vaguely acknowledge the way that you were fading in and out wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. What you hated was the painful tingling and the weird.. harsh cold entering your lungs every time you took a deep breath. You’re so warm, yet your lungs burn cold.

You only saw times in glimpses—what you thought was likely a matter of hours, expanded across a matter of a few days. The harsh blizzard was unwavering, it’s snow falling from the sky harshly messing with the radio signals. Ghost would sit by the window with his personal radio on his vest, along with the emergency signal radio he had stowed in his pack. He would get small glimpses of other peoples voices—Price’s would come through occasionally, luckily long enough for Ghost to update him about their situation and their whereabouts, your condition; but Ghost was never able to provide an update about an exact location. The windows were frosted over and even when they weren’t, all Ghost saw was endless snow and pine trees far as the eye can see, until they eventually faded from view due to the snow coverage. Every time Ghost suddenly becomes aware of his breath, he can’t help but glance over at you; wrapped up in two sleeping bags, sitting way too close to the fireplace—sometimes shuddering, and sometimes.. not moving at all. His heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t see your breath in the air. He calls your name loudly, firm and demanding and when you don’t answer, he scrambles from his position by the window. “Fuck,” He utters. “Fuck!”

Ghost ignores the pain in his knees when they harshly bash against the ground as he kneels next to you. He grabs your face by your cheeks, startled by the hue of blue on your lips. “Bloody bell—wake up!” Ghost snarls, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He holds his breath until he sees your chest slowly yet shakily rise—and then you exhale very slowly, and clearly with amounts of trouble. Relief floods Ghost’s veins, but it’s quickly replaced by frustration and panic. You gasp quietly before you begin to shiver uncontrollably again, and taking Ghost completely by surprise; you open your eyes. Your eyes are glazed over, your eyelids puffy. “[Name]?” Ghost questions, his eyes staring hard into yours, silently noting your dialed pupils. “[Name], can you hear me?” If you do, you don’t make coherent indication. Your tongue darts out and wets your lips before you croak out, “I gotta pee.” Ghost huffs and shakes his head, his hand shooting up and laying on your chest—which is covered by many thicker layers, so disregarding Ghost’s hand, it’s not very likely you could’ve gotten up without help, anyway. “You went an hour ago, yeah? You need to stay layin’ down.” You groan and despite your arms being tucked into your multiple covers, something moves against the fabric as if to swat Ghost’s hand away. Ghost can’t help but swallow nervously; he isn’t stupid, he’s aware you’re in one of the stages of hypothermia, he told Price as much. He’s been able to keep the frostbite at bay, but he’s running out of firewood. It’s snowing way too damn hard for him to even pick up stray logs and sticks laying around. Your slowed heartrate, increased urge to urinate, slow cognitive functions, slurred speech, cold skin—blue lips..

It’s not looking good and Ghost doesn’t want to think about that, but that’s all he can see of you right now, so how could he not? And it’s hard both mentally and physically to stay in this cabin, seeing you deteriorate while he himself is getting absolutely fucking freezing. Ghost has had to shed a layer or two just to keep you alive. He can’t deny the way the cold air is scratching at his skin, seeping through his balaclava and into his jaw, nearly making his bones hurt. Ghost clenches his teeth as he shudders for a moment, eyes fluttering closed just long enough to gain his composure. Fuck. Ghost doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want you to die here, not like this. Not in a run-down abandoned cabin with shitty insulation, where frostbite is nipping at your fingers and where the cold is finally getting to Ghost’s head. He grits his teeth and sits back on his ass normally with a gloved hand to his head, his vision absolutely swimming. “Stop it,” He grunts quietly. “Hafta stay up.” Ghost takes a deep breath and grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, his boots booming against the wooden floor as he walks over to the area where the firewood is kept. He grabs a few of the pre-cut logs and he makes his way over to you and the fireplace, tossing the logs into the ashes, slowly refueling the dying embers. Ghost sniffles a little under his mask as he grabs a piece of paper and takes out a lighter, lighting it on fire before quickly tossing it into the fireplace to make a better fuel source. He crouches near the growing fire, taking his spot by your feet. Ghost sucks in a shuddering breath and rubs his upper arms, and he can’t help but take another glance at you. You stopped trying to get out of your warm enclosure of blankets, but your eyes were darting around the room slowly, unfocused and hazy.

Ghost’s chest clenches for a moment and he walks back over to your shivering form, and he already did it, but he presses his fingers against your lukewarm skin—nearly cold. Your eyes flutter again and then they vaguely glance in the direction that you think he’s in; which you’re almost right, but a few inches off. You try to speak but a quiet choked noise leaves you, your breathing shaky—finally from fear this time. Ghost puts his finger to his mask in a shushing motion, trying his best to keep you calm. “You’ll be alright, yeah? Gotta wait until the storm’s done brewing out there.” He attempts to reassure your delirious brain, but you can only make another “out of it” noise before your eyes flutter shut once again, you losing consciousness. Ghost feels an ugly and dreadful feeling deep in his gut, scratching at his veins, climbing them until his fingertips are cold both due to the temperature and panic. Ghost has always insisted he doesn’t panic, and he hasn’t—until now. Not until he fears the storm won’t pass over and help won’t arrive until you’re frozen and stiff under your fear, despite his desperate attempts to keep you warm—and alive. Ghost doesn’t want to admit it, but fuck, he’s terrified to fall asleep because out of the two of you, what if he’s the only one who wakes up?

Ghost’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he inhales in a sharp manner and his spine straightens up, his hands clenching together for a moment. “M’not going to fall asleep.” He mutters to himself as he takes his place next to you on the floor and holy hell, the floor is cold—so he silently scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your body, and Ghost uses his other arm as a pillow. Your chest very slowly rises and falls, and he finds comfort in the sight of a sign of you being alive—you’re still here with him, and that’s all he needs.

Ghost is awoken from a banging on the cabin door. He jolts ever so slightly, but he’s immediately hit with chills, his limbs trembling. Fuck, he fell asleep. His eyelids feel like sandbags and and he can’t stop fucking shaking—and he feels so heavy.. so tired. “Ghost!” A familiar voice yells outside of the cabin. His arm wraps around your form tighter when he doesn’t immediately recognize the British accent behind the door, he grunts as he clumsily sits up and pulls you closer, his trembling hand grasping as his hip, taking out his service pistol. The door opens as he attempts to aim it, his weak and low voice hissing out, “I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out—“

“Ghost, it’s Price. We found you. Put the gun down.”

Ghost blinks slowly as he looks at the figure who slowly approaches, two others trailing behind—and it is Price—with Gaz and Soap. Ghost sharply inhaled and his arm lowers, the pistol slipping out of his grip. Gaz rushes over to him and your limp form, taking off his gloves. “We got you, Ghost. We got you.” Price assures, but his lips are pressed together as he watches Gaz. Ghost’s head rolls back for a moment, blacking out for a few seconds—Soap’s hands catching his head before it hits the floor. “They’re alive,” Gaz grunts out, leaning down to pick you up bridal style while keeping all of the layers around your body. “Barely, but we gotta get ‘em both to warmth. Now.”

When Ghost finally comes to, the first thing he notices is the smell—it doesn’t smell like rotting and burning wood; his lungs don’t burn with every breath and he can keep his fingers. The second thing he notices is the ache within his throat and his limbs, and the third thing he notices is that he is not wearing his mask. He still feels heavy, but it’s not the kind of heavy where you want to sleep forever heavy. It’s a.. comforting heavy. Someone laying on top of him heavy. It takes him a hot second to open his eyes, and another second to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room—oh, wait, they’re not that bad, his head just hurts. Ghost notices someone laying their head on the bed on top of Ghost, their arms under their head as a cushion. He blinks blearily as he doesn’t register it at first; the hospital gown, two IV drips for two separate patients, and the bandages covering your fingers—it’s you. His eyes widen and he lets out a quiet noise, causing you to lift your head up immediately and look at him with the most vulnerable look you could ever have, your eyes wide and bulging like when a child doesn’t know whether to believe the adult in front of them. “Ghost?” You ask, and fuck, your throat croaks. Your vocal cords sound like they’ve been torn apart and reattached, croaking with relief and pain. He swallows thickly and he nods for a moment, unable to find his voice. Your eyes soften for a moment before you whisper to him. “Hurts to talk, huh? Me too.”

Then don’t, said his silent gaze. Yet, somehow, you manage to catch on his memo. Wordlessly, you reach up to one of his hands—covered in scars and calluses, but you don’t mind. Your hands are similar as you nervously glance at him, grabbing his wrist and turning it over so his palm faces up. Ghost eyes your movements, but makes no move to stop you. You take one of your pointer fingers—the one that isn’t bandaged—and you trace letters into his hand slowly.

T H A N K Y O U

Ghost meets your gaze, and you have tears in your eyes. His hand is grossly limp as he grabs the hand you were moving away, and he instead pulls your hand closer to his face for a closer inspection. The bandages concern him, so he looks at you again. You reach for the clipboard you left by his feet and you place it in his lap, pointing to the part of the medical report about your frostbite blisters. Ghost inhales deeply for a moment before his fingers tap against your hand—rhythmically? Oh, it’s morse code.

Ghost is tapping SAFE over and over while looking at you, to reassure himself—and you. You nod in response and offer him the smile he’s been waiting to see and you tap back to him, SAFE.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 4 They finally have a conversation and oh no... is that Simon falling even harder? (I feel like this isn't as good as the other parts ut I hope you enjoy it)

< Part 3 | COD Masterlist | Part 5 >

One of the perks of taking over the shop is that Simon can play his own music how often and how loud he wants now. Sure, he’s not obnoxious about it but he cares less about customer experience than his boss did (he doesn’t need to work after all, none of them do after that last mission, this is more to help him stay sane).

The only customer whose experience he cares about is you. You deserve the best experience, you deserve all the good things. So he’s gotten into the habit of having a special playlist for the days when you come in. It’s not like he spend hours selecting the right songs for that one, hoping to pleasantly surprise you.

Today you’re earlier than usually and Simon is still setting up the music, connecting his phone and selecting the playlist. He catches sight of you and watches you out of the corner of his eye. My god, you look fantastic. Simon has half a mind to get on his knees and beg for permission to cup your face, cradle you like the precious gift you are so he might stare at you up close and – fuck he misclicked.

Instead of your playlist he tapped his own and now one of his favorite songs is blasting from the speakers and shit shit shit this can’t be happening. He can’t weird you out with his music taste, he can’t have you be even more scared of him. You’re not supposed to hear that.

Suddenly his palms are all sweaty and he scrambles to change the song, fumbling with his phone like it’s a slippery bar of soap. This is so stupid, it’s just music but he can’t help it, not when it’s you and it’s important and he can’t afford to fuck up even more and –

“You like this song too?!”, your voice meets his ears and his head snaps into your direction, meeting your eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. His hands abruptly stop uselessly fondling his phone.

Your eyes are sparkling and your voice, have mercy on his poor heart, sounds adorably excited while you beam at him. He almost snorts. No way. Aint no fucking way. Not a sweet little thing like you. Not a song like this.

Your grin is so wide he can’t help it when he starts smiling too, goddamnit he wants to see you this happy all the time.

“’s one of my favorites.”, he grumbles and he swears you nearly squeal. He never would have thought you could get cuter, yet here you were, proving him wrong once again.

“Mine too!”, you exclaim and giddily fidget on your spot. “I listen to this so much in fact… that…”, you continue and Simon can’t fathom what you’re about to tell him.

You turn to your ugly beast of a dog and start swaying on the spot to the music. Simon’s knuckles turn white with the effort of holding himself back from reaching for you to sway with you. What he’d give to place his hands on your hips and feel you move with him.

And then your dog starts swaying too and Simon nearly chokes on his spit. When you start head banging and really getting into it the ugly mutt joins right in. The music increases in tempo and intensity and so do your movements and your dogs.

It looks utterly silly and happy and free and Simon can feel his chest burst open, dropping his useless bleeding heart right at your feet, thumping pathetically for your attention. Suddenly he wishes he was a different man. Someone like Johnny, who’d step out from behind the counter, snatch you up in his arms, and dance ridiculously with you.

The dog starts howling along with the lead singer and Simon thinks it can’t get any more ridiculous until you start howling back at your dog. That’s the moment he knows he’s truly a goner. A deep amused chuckle bubbles up in his throat and he can’t remember the last time he was this happy.

He wishes he could take this scene and transport it into his living room, join you and the dog just to collapse onto the couch with you afterwards and hold you close. Make sure you’ll never leave him again. He feels like all the adoration he has for you will choke him up, fill his lungs until there is no more room for any oxygen. Simon is sure he could live without it, survive on your happiness alone.

The song comes to an end and you look at him, sparkling eyes and heaving chest and he chuckles again. He never thought he’d see meek and shy little you do something like that. Promptly you blush at his chuckle.

“Yeah… that… I listen to it so much that my boy here just automatically dances with me to it. He’s quite the talented singer as well.”, you chuckle yourself. He can tell that you’re embarrassed now, wringing your fingers together and he wants to gather you in his arms and press you against him until you fuse into one.

“Quite the talent he has. Learnt from the best.”, Simon responds and wow, did he just casually joke with you?!

You grin broadly at him (he did that! He made you smile) and he smiles back, softly, hoping you can tell from the slight creases around his eyes.

“Thank you, thank you.”, you respond with mock modesty and Simon knows, what had been some silly crush broke all sort of confinement today (who is he kidding, he never had it under control).

“I love that band. Wanted to go to their concert but none of my friends share my taste in music and… well…” You look at the floor and Simon’s fingers twitch with the need to tilt your head back up at him. “I’m scared of going alone.”, you admit quietly.

He swears his gums hurt with the way he wants to sink his teeth into your soft form and drag you home with him, keeping you locked up so you'll never have to be scared again (maybe he should talk with his therapist about that).

Johnny must have possessed him and Kyle just phantom kicked him in his butt, because he responds with: “I’m planning on going to that concert, wanna join me? I’ll make sure you’re safe, sweetheart”

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[nocturnesmoon]

You don't have to do everything alone

A/N: Making some blurbs while I work on a longer piece, could be awhile before that one comes out though, probably gonna end up at 10k words if I haven't calculated it wrong. Requests are open too if you got a blurb you'd like to see!

Blurb: Reader is overworked and gets pulled away by their boys.

The screen in front of you had gotten exceedingly brighter during the last few hours. You could feel your brain slowly turning to mush in your head, no matter how hard you tried to sharpen yourself.

The sun outside had long since gone down, replaced by a dark and clouded sky that you didn't have time to pay attention to. You could feel your eyes hurting, slipping closed every now and then from exhaustion. Most people had already gone back to the barracks by now, done with their work for the day and in for a good sleep.

You couldn't afford such a luxury right now, not with the current mission and everything that's at stake. You didn't know how long you had been at it today, but it's all your mind had been focused for the last week. Your job was to track the targets, find them, information anything you could to figure out potential locations.

That's what you'd been occupied with for so long now, and you were failing at it.

You were supposed to be a specialist, a professional who knew what they were doing. Instead, you were here, with a headache that could kill, no hope, and tons and tons of unreviewed files you had yet to get to.

You take a deep, long breath, hoping that it could give you some relief in your state. It doesn't. Your hand comes up to rub at your neck, taking the opportunity to look around the office you'd been holed up in.

You'd been right to assume everyone else had already gone, someone must have missed you were still in here and turned off the lights. Either that, or you'd been sitting still as a statue for longer than you thought.

It was a possibility, judging by the ache in your bones when you stretch and pop your sore joints. You didn't dare look at the clock, but you didn't doubt that you had missed your usual afternoon gym session. There was too much to do to allow yourself to be distracted, even for a few moments.

You knew a large part of this operation now relied on you and few others. Ones that you didn't count on being competent enough to get the job done, so it came down to you. Not that you felt very competent now either, you weren't much better, having found no solution to your problem yet.

With a sigh, you turn back around in your chair, honing in on the sharp screen once again. You could ignore the ache in your stomach for a bit longer, if you just tried a few more things, maybe you could find the fix all solution you'd been looking for?

Even with your split mind, and rundown state, it wasn't hard to get back into focus. It was the only trait you could rely on now, the focus carrying you through long enough to fix your problems one by one.

A downside, some would say, would be the way you tune out of your surroundings, you stop noticing things happening around you, not to mention the passage of time completely eludes you. You didn't even realize when the light in the office were turned on, or when two different sources called your name. You didn't notice the footsteps become louder in your direction, or when two shadows towered over you.

You were only torn out of your focused fixation when someone gently slid down a hand over your eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands coming up to grab at the arm and push it away but getting stopped by a different set of hands.

"Jus' us luv" Simon's gruff voice vibrates close to your ear, making you relax your shoulders and let your hands fall back to your lap. It's only now when your eyes are shrouded in the darkness his palm creates that you realize how much your eyes were hurting. You forcefully blink a few times, settling for closing your eyes, protected behind the security of his hand.

You lean back in your chair, feeling the back of your head collide against Simon's firm stomach. You crane your head upwards, despite not being able to see him, you can almost imagine the curious look he has on when you do. His other rough hand slowly slides from your shoulder, over your throat, holding a persistent comforting weight there to keep you in check.

Your lips part ever so slightly, letting out a long gust of air, expelling everything in your lungs and making your shoulders sag. You had barely noticed how exhausted you had gotten, but this was nice.

You try to jerk your head when you hear someone else's movements, but Simon holds you in place. You feel a different set of hands gently lay on your shoulder, that someone shuffling in-between you and the desk you'd been spending the last several hours at.

"Missed ye darling," you let out a small huff when you hear the Scottish accent, not that you expected him to not be hot on Simon's heels. Your scoff is silenced when he gently places his lips on yours, Simon's hand not even bothering to move to give him space to do so.

In a way you don't want him to move his hands away from your face and neck, it was somewhat stabilizing. "What are you two doing," you ask, slightly out of breath when Johnny pulls away. From the sounds and his movements, you guess he crouches down in front of you, placing both his hands on each of your thighs.

You reach forward, blindly searching for him, and only finding him when he guides your hands to his face. "You've been actin' off," Simon starts out, Johnny slipping in a hum of agreeance, "you're working yourself to death dove."

You let out a huff in response, not wanting to agree with him no matter how true his statement was. You run your hands through Johnny's hair, grabbing playfully at his mohawk. You lean forward, gently sliding out of Simon's hold.

His hands resting on you retract, and you almost instantly regret it, squinting your eyes in the bright light. "M'fine," you mumble quietly, letting go of Johnny and looking into his bright blue eyes, "Jus' a bit stressed".

"C'mon to bed, love," you had halfheartedly expected Johnny to plead with you, but he seemed way past that now, using a more authoritative tone and leaving little room for disagreeing. Of course, that didn't mean you weren't going to, though.

"Can't" you continue to mumble tiredly, doing your best to keep your eyes open and ignore the dull ache in your head, "still have to finish this." You hear Simon let out a heavy sigh behind you, you'd almost feel guilt under his disappointed stare if you weren't already ridden with it already.

"You've worked hard enough for today, there's always tomorrow" Simon reasons with you. You're about to protest again when he points another thing out, "don't come with another excuse, you can barely even keep your eyes open, don't deny it."

You barely catch the glance the two men exchange with each other, but you don't fail to recognize what it means. You've already lost the fight at this point, you didn't have an argument that would actually make them listen, and deep down you knew they were right.

"I…" you barely get your word out before Johnny stands up, taking your hand in his and softly pulling you to your feet. You don't know when or how, but they'd already turned off the computer you had been using.

You take a step towards Johnny, but instantly feel your vision swirl, the millions of thin pricks blacking out your view for a good couple of seconds. With a groan, you collide against his chest, closing your eyes and staying there long past how long it took for the prickling to disappear.

"Ah got ye," he mumbles quietly, bringing around his burly arms to encompass you into a hug, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. The last of your willpower and determination to continue and finish your work tonight, dwindles away when you feel his warmth.

"When's the last time you ate?" you hear Simon ask in a quieter, knowing tone. You wince against Johnny, knowing the scolding you were gonna get later. It was hard for you to recall much of anything from the day, most of it was spent in front of a screen with data, minimal breaks. You weren't entirely sure whether or not you had eaten anything that day.

Johnny takes in a deep breath; you feel his chest expand under your cheek before lowering back again. "We'll get ye some leftovers on the way back aye?" he mentions and softly turns you around, "Garrick left some from his last meal, ah think it's something ye will like."

You nod gently, letting the exhaustion take a small win when your eyes softly close. You don't feel like opening them again, being quite fine with falling asleep standing up right now. "C'mon, let's get you to bed, Johnny'll get the food." Simon places a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you along.

"Aye."

How you stay upright all the way to your room, you have no idea. You're pretty sure you should've collapsed at least ten times on the way here, but with Simon's hand on you, you felt like you could push on just a little more, and finally you could collapse on your bed.

Simon let's out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, moving your limbs around like you were a doll. He pulls you up and takes a seat behind you, pulling you close with your back to his chest. You feel his hot breath on your ear, and after getting yourself comfortable, you can finally feel yourself relax.

"You need to stop taking on everythin' alone" he dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin. "You're not the only one working on this, you can take a break" he mumbles, and lets his arm travel over your midriff, pulling you even closer back against him.

"I know, but the less I’m working, the more time it's going to take to find our target" you answer, moving your hand up to run it over his scalp. Your attention is taken away from him when the soft click of the door opening reaches your ears.

With a small smile, you greet Johnny back in, watching the plate of food he brings along. As soon as you smell the delicious meal, your stomach rumbles, loudly. You grimace, once again having forgotten the gaping hole you felt in your stomach.

"Hungry then aye?" He sits down in the bed next to the two of you, handing you the plate of food, which you accept graciously. You knew how good of a cook Gaz was, but this was one of your favourites, it was likely he had intended to give you some as well, had you been available at all during the day.

You let out a sinful groan when the food collides with your taste buds. "Thank you…fucking hell," you mumble with your mouth full. You make a mental note to thank Kyle for the food later, and then also beg him for another batch.

"Easy," Simon grumbles from behind you, "gonna upset your stomach by eating so fast." His hand comes to rest against your elbow, slowing your movements so you don't inhale the food on your plate.

"I know I know," you mumble between bites, catching the cheeky grin Johnny gives you from how you sound with your mouth full. "It's fine, I can eat, take a nap and then get back to it" you declare after finishing another bite of your food.

"Nu uh," Johnny shakes his head, seemingly amused that you think you're not going to be resting longer than that. "We'll keep ye in bed until ye're rested properly" he reaches his hand forward, letting it rest on your knee while his thumb rubs against your skin.

"What you can't do that-"

"We'll do whatever it takes to make sure our darling isn't working themselves into the ground again," Simon comments from behind you, leaving you a bit stunned at his sternness. You feel him gently take the empty plate away from you and put it on the bedside table when you're done.

"You can't keep me chained to the bed," you respond with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest and twisting your body to look in the eyes of the man behind you. He doesn't look like he's about to put up with your shit, however, and doesn't even dignify you with a greater response than his infamous glare.

Johnny brings your attention back to him, turning your head back by grabbing your chin. He leans in to plant a gentle and short kiss to your lips. "Ye heard 'im, whatever it'll take love" he chuckles quietly, the breathy sort of way.

You feel heat rise in your cheeks and let out a squeal when he picks you out of Simons lap, rolling over and ending up on top of you in the bed. He rests his chin against you, letting his weight hold you down and give you a comfort to your restless edge.

The light turns off above you, and it doesn't take long after that before the bed dips and Simon joins beside the two of you. Johnny let's out a satisfied hum when Simon pulls you both closer, wrapping you all up together in the blankets.

"Goodnight, ye sleep tight now, darling."

[euno11a]

I just ate the juiciest nectarine ever and the juices got all over my chin…ghost would def say something like

“It’s not nice to impersonate people, love. Especially after I made you cum so hard.”

or just really sloppily kiss you, running his tongue all over the juices across your mouth and chin, making sure to taste your tongue for more of those delicious juices.

[k4marina]

— type || s.r

synopsis: some new recruits ask you what your type is

warnings: suggestive language, some military lingo i guess, not proofread btw 🤺

inspired by rules by doja cat

simon”ghost”riley x gn!reader

the inside of the helo buzzed with excitement as it got ready for take off. you and the 141, with a few new recruits were off to a mission. it was quite simple, locate enemy base, eliminate any threats, and safely retrieve the intel.

price, gaz, and soap we’re going in a separate helo while you and ghost had to babysit the newbies in another helo.

you took a seat, shifting your rifle and your hips to get comfortable for the ride. once settled you leaned your head back, eye closed hoping to get some peace before landing at the destination.

“..what? no! you ask them!”

“bruh.. why me? i don’t even say anything about this.”

“bro, martinez, you ask them since you’re so whipped.”

the not so hushed whispering grew louder and you more annoyed. geez, would it kill for some silence?

“lieutenant, i have a question.” the voice came from across where a few new recruits had sat themselves.

with a sight you opened your eyes, tilting your head to look at him. he wore a cocky smile, eyeing the way you sat, staring a little too long. “yes?”

“i was just wondering, y’know, what your type is.” the deck got quite, all eyes on you and the soldier across from you.

“and what do you want to do with that information for?”

“well, i was thinking how about you and me go out for some drinks?”

his friends watched with a mix of awe and horror as their friend tried to hit on his superior. “seems like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

he smirked. “what else am i supposed to think about when you’re running around up there.”

god, how you wanted to gag.

you crossed your legs, purposefully moving you hips around, catching his attention.

you licked your lips, “i’ll need devotion.”

“lemme show how much i can give.”

gag.

you shifted forwards, letting your foot touch his leg. a glance down at his pants showed that they’d gotten significantly tighter.

“be honesty,” your voice can out sultry. “do i make you horny, baby?”

he licked his lips. “that obvious?” you huffed, moving away from him with a shit eating grin.

“too bad.”

even under the red light of the inside of the helo, you could see the heat rise up to the tips of ears. “let me give you a few tips. one, don’t talk to your superiors like that and two, you’ve gotta fake gold chain on- change that.”

a few other snickered at the two little jabs you said. martinez sat back with a “yes lieutenant, sorry.”

you groaned, leaning back again only to hear heavy boots stomping up the ramp and down towards the empty seat next to you.

“hey martinez. wanna know my type?” you tilted your head towards ghost walking to you. “that it right there.”

simon sat now next to you, glaring daggers at the recruits across from you, who now could look at anywhere but you.

you looked up at him, watching as his eyes went from them to you. he leaned down to youre ear, “you’re a cheeky little minx, ain’t ya’?”

you gave him a little shrug. “maybe you should take so long next time.”

—

was this rushed? yes.

it’s it still better than nothing? yes.

[sstormyskyess]

Tender Love and Care

author's note: aftercare is probably one of the cutest things in the world so i had to match up some classic types of aftercare with the boys

cw: fluff, implied off-screen sex, massages, cuddling, shared baths/showers

word count: 1200+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [massages]

♡ Ghost is not a very handsy man and never has been; he keeps to himself 90% of the time and even with you the physical contact you share is minimal. It doesn’t bother you, of course, since it’s simply a part of the way he operates.

♡ However, after coming down from the sweet high that you brought each other to, he needs to be close to you. He gets so swept up in the pleasure that he needs something to ground him and having his hands all over you is the perfect solution.

Simon frowns at the quiet groan you let out while his hands massage your stomach, soothing the muscles underneath. “I didn’t go too hard, did I love?” You smile at his concern and hold his wrists, giving them a squeeze. “It’s okay, Si, just a little sore.” You assure him. He hums, still worried but trusting your words regardless.

You sigh happily as you feel Simon’s hands rubbing languid circles into the skin of your thighs, soothing over the bruises he left there unintentionally. His thumbs slowly move down to your calf and bring your ankle up to his lips, kissing it softly. A shiver goes up your spine at the way he stared you down, his eyes trailing down your body with adoration in his eyes.

He places your leg down gently, shifting his attention to your wrists, the anchor he used to hold you in place earlier. Carefully, he pulls you up by your arms and has you sit chest to chest, eyes locked onto your hands, massaging your palms with his thumbs. You watch him kiss each of your knuckles and whisper a quiet, “I love you.”

John “Soap” Mactavish [cuddling]

♡ This man. This man. Soap is absolutely addicted to cuddling, whether he’s the big spoon or small spoon, face-to-face with you, or laying on top of you and vice versa. It doesn’t matter how, he just needs to kiss your skin: cheeks, hands, chest—anything. He also loves it when you kiss the marks you made on each other, reminding him exactly where you paid the most attention to each other.

♡ He whispers sweet nothings to you and tells you how much fun he had and how good you felt and how good you were for him.

After wiping the both of you down with the cold, damp washcloth you’d put on the bedside table, Johnny has you cocooned in your favorite fluffy blanket, holding you close. He tucks your head under his chin and lets you play with the hair on his chest, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips when your fingers start to tickle him a bit. He holds you tight, hands around the small of your back and the back of your head.

You hum and start to wiggle out of his hold. “I gotta go pee really quick,” you mumble into the skin of his neck. A grumble fills his chest when you start moving away, his grip tightening. “Johnny, let go…” You whine, struggling in his hold. He frowns and shuffles to lay on top of you, pushing the air out of your chest with a little ‘oof.’

You worm your arms out from under him and try to pull him off, tugging on his shirt. “Get off!” You squeak, but all you get in return is even more pounds laying on your chest. He laughs and starts covering your face in kisses, a wordless attempt at keeping you right where you were. “Nope, you’re staying right here, dove.” He nuzzles his face against your shoulder.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [snacks/water]

♡ Often, Gaz has already gotten something for you both to drink and snack on while you’re laid up next to each other, watching whatever’s on the TV sitting on your dresser. He knows how much your evening activities can wear you out, so he always wants to replenish your energy before heading to bed.

♡ If he hasn’t prepared anything, he’ll pick you up and carry you to the kitchen with him to keep you close, not wanting to part with you for even a second. He’ll have you wrapped up in a blanket and sitting on the counter while he fills up a bottle with water and cuts up some fruit for the two of you to share.

Kyle’s eyes widen when you grab one of the grapes in his fruit bowl. “Hey!” He pouts while you giggle quietly, a smile on your face. Popping it into your mouth, you look up at Kyle who had his handsome face locked on you with stars in his eyes. You can’t help but bashfully laugh and look away, your cheeks warming under his adoring gaze.

His hand rested under the baggy t-shirt you’d stolen from him, fingers wrapped around your bare hip. You frown when a breath of cold air slips into the blankets when he reaches to the bedside table for his water bottle. “Kyle, come back…” You whine, tightening your hold on him. He laughs and comes back with the bottle, handing it to you before readjusting the blankets. “Drink up, baby.”

You cuddle up closer to him and open it up to take a few gulps of water before handing it back to him. It ends up haphazardly dropped onto the bed sheets when Kyle tosses it aside and leans down to kiss you on the head, on the cheeks, and all over your face. You start to giggle, trying to push him off; then, when you do, you see Kyle with his hand in your bowl of fruit, stealing a grape of his own, much to your dismay.

John Price [showers/baths]

♡ Sex with John can get fairly filthy; he loves making a mess of you and it often ends up with both of you covered in more than just sweat, so cleaning you up is a first priority once you’re done. He’ll wash you ever so gently and clean off anything that tainted your skin over the time you spent under the sheets.

♡ He’s invested in a variety of things to put in the bath, ranging from oils to bath bombs and salts, all in your favorite scents. He loves the feeling of your soft skin after being pampered, running his palms all over you just to feel it.

The bath bomb at the end of the bath has almost fizzled out by now, the bathwater now a light pink. John hovers over you and stares down at your relaxed face, eyes shut with a tiny smile perking up your lips. He chuckles when you press your head into his hands as he caresses you, his nails scrubbing along your scalp gently. You take a deep breath of the lavender oil coating his fingers and exhale, the steam from the bath shifting with your breath.

His hands dipped under the water and ran up your thighs, his fingers gliding across your skin smoothly. “You feel lovely, darling.” His lips brush along your shoulder as he speaks. You smile wide, letting him kiss up your shoulder and neck, all the way to your cheek.

You wiggle a bit when he gets a nice handful of your thighs and squeezes, a small laugh leaving you. You retaliate by reaching back and pinching him on the cheek. He joins in with his own laughter, pulling you closer to him and running his nails up and down your sides, tickling you. You squeal, trying to pull his hands away. “John, the water’s gonna spill out—!”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[rileyslibrary]

You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.

There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.

———————————————————————

You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.

“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.

But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.

“Simon?”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to do it right now.”

“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.

“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.

“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.

“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.

He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.

“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”

He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.

He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.

Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.

But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.

To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.

You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.

“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”

He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.

“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.

“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”

“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”

Simon processes your words and nods.

You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.

“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.

“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”

He thinks about it for a while.

“Am I doing that?” He asks.

You slowly nod with a gentle smile.

“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.

“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”

He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.

“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”

You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.

“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”

He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.

“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.

“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”

He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.

“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”

He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.

“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.

———————————————————————

[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)

[allllium]

🖤 Best Simon "Ghost" Riley Fics On Tumblr 🖤

Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

♡ Fluff ♡

OlderBf!Simon

Can't Get It Up

I Need to Follow Orders [Fluff, NSFW]

↳ @heavenbarnes

Viking!Simon [Dad!Simon]

Viking!Simon [Angst]

Duke!Ghost

↳ @dante-mightdie

Pregnant Wife [Soon to be Dad Simon]

Secret Wife

↳ @slater-baby

Let Simon Riley Cry 2024 ~ @themotherofhorses

Pizza ~ @euno11a

This is... Love? [Smut] ~ @codtrashsammy

Marriage ~ @void-my-warranty

He's Drunk :/ ~ @notspiders

Edibles ~ @httpsghostie

Can't Perform ~ @euno11a

Body Type ~ @oceantornadoo

Old Wound [Hurt/Comfort?] ~ @cntloup

Rough Mission ~ @lunarduty

Traumatized [Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive] ~ @3amfanfiction

Cat ~ @majinbangus

Gentle ~ @puff0o0

Grumpy ~ @luvlystarr

Animal Crossing ~ @gild-ui

Bracelet ~ @duskedpens

Huge Sap ~ @timetothirst

[mockerycrow]

this is really self indulgent oopsie — ghost x gn!reader

imagining being a civilian in a relationship with simon riley where both of you are oddly detached. neither of you really crave to see each other despite the distance—you’ve had friends and/or family sit you down with concern because you never express that you miss simon; and that’s because you truly don’t. you love him for sure and of course you’re always worried about safety, how could you not be? but you know when if he returns home, you two will pick up from where you last left off.

with simon, you don’t feel like you gotta fake anything. your reunions when he comes home are just as long, but quiet. standing by the front door, quiet as you share a long, silent hug. the weight of his arms, the squeezing and how heavy he breathes is everything you need to know from simon. you don’t ask about his deployment—he doesn’t say much, anyway. not unless it’s truly important. a few stories here and there, maybe some complaints but it’s nothing you need to know, which you’re fine with.

this does not mean you two don’t love each other, though. this doesn’t mean that the long kisses shared in the doorway aren’t a thing, nor the way you two cuddle at night in such a way where neither of you know where the other starts, AND ends. you two love each other immensely; it just looks a little different than others would think. little kisses shared in the morning, bringing simon to the bathroom and helping him apply his skincare as his face has some minor issues due to wearing a mask all of the time.. you two love putting your hands up each others shirts when they’re cold, making the other jump with a quiet swear.

you and simon aren’t worried about marriage at the moment, no matter how many years it’s been with you dating the man. you’re both a bit skiddish about it and you’ll both come to your own terms with it in the end, but simon sees the nervousness flicker in your eye when a relative makes a joke. simon’s heart never sinks when you’re unsure about marriage because in all honesty, he’s also worried about it. he never takes it as a “you don’t love me” sign because simon gets it. he always gets it.

he gets you, even when you’re not sure how to communicate something.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 9 We're coming to the end of the date and is that... *le gasp* hand holding? How lewd. You're such a harlot, letting him hold your hand.

I'm not dead guys, just pretty busy with life, but this guy lives rent free in my head (he'd prefer to live in yours). Part 8 | COD Masterlist | Part 10

Abort. Fucking abort mission. He knows it’s going to be a no before you even open your mouth. How could he be so stupid. Your expression is troubled and he wants to kick himself for asking. Too quick, too much. Did he seriously forget how careful and easily startled you are just because you joked about Johnny? (yeah he did, too busy imagining your wedding)

“I”, you slowly start your hands nervously wringing “don’t want to intrude on your guy’s night. And I don’t know them and I bet they’re really nice but they’re three men I don’t know and it’s getting late and hell, I barely know you and…”

You’ve started rambling and Simon hates how he made you nervous like that again, so before you can get too much into your head about it he takes a small step forward his hands reaching out and gently covering your fiddling ones. God, they fit perfectly into his. He never wants to stop holding your hands again.

That effectively shuts you up and your eyes go to his again, looking up from the ground (such a good little lovie).

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I get it.”, he grumbles out, trying to keep his voice soft, lest he scares you off like a startled deer. He doesn’t want to have to chase you (maybe he does, but only if you’d like him to).  His big hands dwarf yours, gently squeezing.

You don’t pull back and that alone makes his heart do a victory jump in his chest. If you don’t mind him touching you like this maybe he can get bolder the next times, make his interest more obvious (okay, he needs to calm the fuck down, you haven’t even agreed to going to the concert with him yet).

“No need to explain. I shouldn’t have asked.”, he continues and you shake your head freeing your hands from each other so you can grab onto his too (oh fuck, you’re grabbing onto him, holy shit, holy shit).

“No! It’s very sweet of you. It’s just… too much?”, you say and it sounds more like a question than a statement. At least you’ve grown so comfortable around him that you continue to explain: “Meeting you today was already a lot for me.”

He nods in understanding, quietly accepting your words. He gulps heavily hoping you can’t hear his nerves when he asks: “Was it too much? Meeting me today?”

You grip on his hands tightens and you take a small instinctive step closer, stealing all the oxygen from his lungs. “No! It’s not too much. You’ve been great, really. I just…”

You look troubled at having to explain further and his thumbs begins to soothingly brush over your hands. “Okay.”, he says simply, stopping you from trying to convince him.

The way you tilt your head up at him in surprise makes his heart squeeze and he swears he needs to take his cuteness aggression out on one of his pillows when he gets home because the urge to squeeze you tightly is nearly overwhelming. It fills his entire body up until he feels like he’ll vibrate right out of his skin and break into pieces at your feet.

“Just like that?”, you ask, evidently surprised at his acceptance and he nods, subtly starting to walk again but keeping one of your hands in his. You don’t seem to notice and if you do, you don’t complain. Shit, his hand is getting sweaty from how nervous holding your hand makes him.

“Yeah. No need to explain. That’s how it is.”, he says with a harsher tone than intended. Shit, he meant to sound conclusive not harsh what if you think he’s mad and…

“Thank you.” The squeeze of his hand is thankful and gentle making him stuff his other hand into his pocket again because he might start to shake from your proximity at any moment now.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.”, he murmurs and wonders how people usually react to you if you feel the need to thank him for just accepting what you said. The thought of anyone not treating you right makes quiet rage settle around his chest and he vows to never mistreat you (yeah, not like he fantasizes about keeping you locked up so he can have you all to himself or anything, no hypocrisy there, Simon).

That’s the moment Wraith comes bounding back again and looks at your joined hands. Suddenly the big dog stops dead in his tracks and huffs a low bark. Your laughter rings out and Simon doesn’t know whether to cry tears of joy at the beautiful sound of your laughter or take cover because your mutt does not look happy at him touching you.

He fights the urge to jerk his hands back like he’s a naughty child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Damn him, if he lets a goddamn dog intimidate him into letting go of your perfect little hand. Wraith cocks his head at you two and a low rumble starts in his throat, not quite a growl. Something Simon can’t decipher.

You can though and when you try to go to your dog, Simon tightens his hold on your hand so you don’t slip from his grip completely. The way your head whips around nearly makes him let go of you after all but he decides to swallow his nerves and gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb again. Your eyes are wide, not scared just surprised and you seem to search his gaze for something.

He’s not sure what but he doesn’t break the sudden and intense eye contact, trying to hide his pout at you taking your attention off of him to give it to your dog.

“Only need one hand to pet him.”, he grouses and against anything he expected you giggle again and call Wraith closer. The ugly beast trots closer still grumbling and you pet his head.

 “There you go, Wraith. Is my poor puppy jealous?”, you ask your dog and he gives a huff in response. Simon has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t answer with a ‘yeah I am’.

He truly is trying to hide the side eye he gives Wraith when you coo at the mutt and gently scratch his chin, but he can’t help it. Wraith’s tongue lolls out and Simon swears the pleased grumble is aimed at him. Damnit, maybe he should get one of those puppy ear headbands. Maybe you would pet him too if he did.

[sofasoap]

I love you.

inspired by the prompt line by @celestialwrites , Short ficlet with each of the Task Force 141 men. Prompt can be found here. Pairing :

John Price x GN!Reader Simon "Ghost"Riley x GN!Reader Kyle "Gaz"Garrick x GN!Reader Johnny "Soap"MacTavish x F!Reader Warning : Mature theme, swearing, alcohol use.

Masterlist

Captain John Price:

“Hhhheyyy Captain?”

“Yes love?”

“You know you are a very good looking man, very good looking for an old man??” You slurred as you reach up to his face, patting it before caressing his beard. “Look at this.. ..Luscious mutton chop. Who else can pull this off in such a sexy way other than you?”

Price cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Thank you?”

“And let me tell you a little secret.” You lean closer, looking up at him, as if you are going to make a life changing announcement. “ I LOVE YOU.” You pointed at him. “You, Captain Johnathan Price, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. BUT!! I didn’t want you to know.” you pouted, looking down at the wedding band around his ring finger. “Because all the good looking and nice men are taken. Including you.” 

"Tell me that when you get off the morphine, darling." He chuckled. “Get some rest. We can talk again when you are awake.”

“You promise?” “I promise.”

“You promise you won’t tell YOU, what I just said?”

Price couldn’t help laughing at the absurd yet amusing conversation. You were clearly so drugged out on the pain relief, nothing coming out of your mouth makes sense anymore. “Yes love. Come on. Shut your eyes now.” “Ok.” “Hey Captain? Remember. Shhhh, Don’t tell yourself that I said I love you!!” 

“How are they Captain?”

“Recovering. But I don't think they remember we are married.” 

“That bad?” “Think it’s the morphine talking.”

“Oh.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You rub your hands together. You can see white mist coming out of your mouth as you breathe out. It’s only the beginning of autumn, but in this part of the world, winter comes early. 

The team has retreated to a safe house deep inside the forest, waiting for the exfil the next day. Everyone is inside the safe house resting while you take the first shift. Scanning your eyes across the landscape. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a very calm evening. You like this. Gives you time to think, reorganise your brain. Have sometime to yourself. And your thought turned to a certain masked man. You have heard of his reputation way before you joined the team. And true to his reputation, you found him extremely intimidating, distant, and cold in the beginning.

Once you gained his trust, proved yourself, you know he actually cares about his team mates a lot. Not a man with words, but through actions. Before you know it, you have slowly fallen for him. But you don’t intend to tell him. A secret you want to keep, deep within yourself. 

Interrupting you thought as you heard the sound of door creaking, you stood up immediately, body into alert mode, ready for the enemy approaching. Only to find Ghost , stepping out of the threshold of the front door. You relax your shoulder, slumping back against the bench you were perching on.  Looking at the two cups of tea he is holding, and back up to him, tilting your head.

“Can’t sleep,” he replied with a gruff voice., answering your silent question. “Thought I would bring you some tea.” There it is again, his way of caring, without saying out a loud. “I think L.T fancies you.” You remember Soap teased you once. “Please. With the way he death-stares at me all the time??” you laughed. “I doubt it.”

“You know Soap is right.” Gaz chimed in. “ Things that he does for you willingly without asking. He doesn’t even do the same for us!”

Making his way to you, he handed you one of the tea mugs, and proceeded to make himself comfortable beside you on the bench. Rolling up his mask slightly, he started sipping the tea. Not often you have a chance to sit close to him, especially so close that you can observe every little detail of his face ( well, part of his face, you thought.). The deep scar that is running across from his cheek right to the corner of his, surprisingly luscious lip. A sudden gust of wind blows across, you pull your coat tighter, and hug the hot cup of tea closer to you, trying to warm yourself up. 

You noticed he shifted his body slightly, shuffling closer to you and tilting his body slightly to face you. He is blocking the wind out for you. You realised. Fuck. Maybe Soap and Gaz is right, maybe he has a thing for you as well. Just as you …..

“....Love you.” 

Dead silence. you could hear a pencil drop. His body stiffens at your sudden confession. 

"No, you don't." he finally whispered out a reply. “You can’t love me.”

You grit your teeth, slightly frustrated. Both at yourself for blurting the confession out aloud and at him. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings, SIMON. Do not tell me how I feel and who I can fall for.” Lifting your chin up, trying hard to contain your anger.  “Why is it so hard to believe that someone loves you. Or YOU deserve to be loved?”

You know you have hit what is in his mind, as you see his eyes narrowed for a split second. 

Turning your face away, refuse to let him see the tears forming in your eyes. “I am sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise to me Simon. Just think about it.” Shifting your rifle around, “ You are well respected, much more loved and deserve to be loved and cared for, more than you think. Romantic love or not.” You sniffed. “The other boys love you. We all love you. Don’t think so lowly of yourself.” 

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls you into his side with one of his arms awkwardly. You closed your eyes and melted into his embrace. All of sudden fatigue took over. You are so tired. Not physically tired, but mentally.

“It’s ok. I’ll take over the watch. You rest for a bit.” he rumbled out in a hushed tone. He swallowed a bit, “I am sorry.. I don't know .. how to …“ “I said stop apologising, Simon. It’s ok.” Just before you drifted off to sleep, you heard him whispering, “I… I don’t hate you.” You smiled. Maybe that is a start.

“L.T… have you seen..Oh. I’ll leave you two be.” 

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

“Is this some kind of prank?” Gaz shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting left to right, hands fidgeting away. “... WHAT?” your mouth dropped open. “ I mean…” Gaz pointing to nowhere in particular,  “Everyone is swamping towards Soap today, are you sure you are coming to the right place?” “KYLE GAZ GARRICK.” Suddenly you were very, very pissed off. “Are you trying to say I am a liar? I am playing some sort of prank on you just for the fun of it?” You half yelled. “That my love confession to you means nothing?????”  

Shit, he has never seen you so angry before. Maybe that was a bad thing to say. Scrap that. It is a very bad thing to say.

Gaz first noticed you when he was sent to the infirmary for some training injury few years ago, you immediately caught his eyes with your gentle smile. The way you treated everyone with care. Laughter of yours, beautiful voice.

The two of you became friends. Every time he ended up in the infirmary, you made an effort to come and check in on him if you were too busy to treat him personally.Little conversations you have when you two are together during meal time. Happy Birthday and festive greeting cards you give to him. 

Before he knew it, Gaz knew he was in love. 

But he isn’t sure if you feel the same. He felt you treated everyone equally. To Captain, Ghost and Soap, the same smile and patience you show him. But that little shyness that you show only to him when he has a conversation with you. Maybe? The insecure side of him keeps convincing himself that the two of you are just friends.  There is no way you will go for a person like him. 

“No.. I .. that’s not what I meant..”  

“Last time I checked, It’s February the fourteenth, not fucken First of April.” you yank back the bag of chocolate cookies you spend hours making the night before, wrapped up carefully in a nice decorative packaging. 

“ You don’t deserve these chocolate cookies if my feelings are going to be trampled on like that. Have a good day, SERGEANT GARRICK.” 

You pushed past Soap as you stormed out of the office, fuming. 

“...You fucked up didn’t you.” Soap asked in the amused tone, as he walked into the office.

“... yes.” Gaz grumbled. 

Plonking himself onto the couch, shaking his head. “You know they have been asking me about you quite a lot lately?” Gaz have noticed you have been talking to Soap quite a lot lately during meal breaks. He was slightly jealous and heart broken when you were spending so much time with Soap instead of him. Now he knows why.

“They were quite scared that you wouldn't reciprocate their feelings. But I assured them you like them as well… but…”  Patting his shoulder. “Flower shops are still open down the road. If you go now, you still have time to make amends.” Before Soap finished his sentence, Gaz was out the door already. “These two fools.. “ Shaking his head as he leaned back into the couch. He helped you two enough, now it’s up to the two of you to sort things out amongst yourselves. 

You heard a soft knock on the door. You deliberately swap shifts at the last minute with your fellow medic, just to dodge everyone who is going out celebrating the special day. “Come in.” You growled out to the knocker, annoyed. You just want to be left alone after the unpleasant and failed confession earlier on. You stiffened as you saw Gaz poking his head through the gap of the door, with a nervous expression on his face, and hiding something behind his back. “... how can I help, SERGEANT?” The way you spit out his rank, makes him wince. 

“Can I come in?” Wiggling himself through the gap of the door, but not making any step further, as you wave him in , impatiently. “I.. I just want to apologise for my behaviour earlier on.” Gaz looks down on the floor, guilt is written all over his face. “My choices of words weren’t, Um. Exactly, nice.”

“.... No.” “ So Um, I.. I got you this.” thrusting forward the bunch of flowers he was hiding behind his back, “and just to let you know I..” shuffling forward toward your desk as he summons up his courage, “I , I am very sorry for what I said, So um, I , ah. Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Depends.”

“Depends?” Gaz looked up, confused.

“ Is this just an apology dinner or pity dinner? If so, NO.” “No, Nono, No, No, I really want to take you out for dinner, as a friend, I mean, not as a friend,” Geez he is really digging himself another hole here. You narrowed your eyes, “What I am trying to say is,” taking a deep breath before he takes the leap, “ I like you , I love you. Not as a fellow soldier but, more than a friend.”

Your eyes widen, shocked. You got the reply you were waiting for, now you don’t know how to respond.  Feeling your face burning, right up to the tip of your ears, you finally let out a little whisper.

“Ok.” “Ok?” Gaz felt like a weight was lifted from his chest. “Yes?”

You look up to him, finally that little smile that he loves so much was back on your face. “Yes Gaz, you may take me out to dinner.”

Reports of people sighting Gaz skipping and dancing along the corridor happily as he comes out from the infirmary circled around for days afterwards.

“He finally asked them out?” “Yep. those two bampots. Been dancing around each other long enough.” “You owe me fifty pounds.”

John “Soap” MacTavish

“Fucking finally!” …. What?

“I've been in love with you for five years, thanks for finally catching up.”

Your brain short circuited, what did he just say to you?? “Hold on, just.. Please rewind?” You wave your hands around, still not quite processing the information that he just disclosed to you. You work as a manger at the bar near the SAS barrack, where the soldiers from the base frequent.. Moving here to Credenhill  from the busting big cities, you are looking for a change, none of those big town cold people feel. Money wasn’t a problem for you, you can live comfortably from what you have saved up before and surprise inheritance from a rich distant relative you never met before.  Securing this job was easy, your experiences of bartending from university days, and also management skills from previous jobs.

This is where you met the Task Force 141 boys. All of them, with different personalities, hit off with you straight away. They seem intimidating from the beginning, but as soon as you got to know them, they warm up to you pretty quickly. Even the scary looking Ghost. “You,” Pointing at Johnny, or Soap as he is known within his friend and fellow soldier’s circle, “been in love with me,” pointing at yourself, “for the last five years?”

“Yep.” Flashing you with his signature brilliant smile,“You are a hard shell to crack bonnie.” taking a sip of his whisky, he chuckled. “Never had so much trouble trying to chase after someone. Even Ghost was telling me to give up.” “I.. I didn’t think you were interested in me?” you stated, meekly.

Soap nearly spit out his drink, “... are you kidding me?” he look at you, with mouth wide open, with a shocked expression.

You have noticed out of the four men, he sought after you the most, likes to come up to the bar area, asking you to make his drinks, having a good chat with you when the bar is a bit more quiet and slower. He will sometimes come by himself, and when you ask him where the rest of the teams are, he will simply shrug his shoulders, “Busy. But it's ok. I am here.” Him staying behind after the closed down time, helping you clean up and walk you home. 

“You are really dense.” Your friend had made that comment once when you bluntly turned down someone’s offer for a drink. “Did you not realise that person was flirting with you??”“... Nope? I thought he was just being friendly?”Your friend gave you a look as if you had grown an arm out of your head. “I… Oh gosh, no wonder.. Never mind.” Shaking their head, defeated. OH. Thinking back, all these flirtatious remarks and subtle hints he was dropping really flew over your head. No wonder even your best buddies call you the most unobservant person in the world. 

Wiping the drinking glasses, trying to hide your embarrassment. You are glad it’s after closing time, no one else is here to witness the strange interaction and confession between you two. “I .. um, seriously, my friend has called me dense many times..”

“Obviously ..” “Hey!!” swatting him with a tea towel, pretending to be angry.

he chuckled as he dodged it. “So what made you want to confess to me tonight bonnie?”

“... I overheard the conversation about a dangerous mission earlier on...” your hand stopped, lower the tumbler glass, looking down into the sink. “... I thought.. If I don’t say anything now.. I might..” taking a deep breath in, trying to push away that panicking feeling that is arising. 

“Hey. “ leaning forward,his hand reaches over the counter, tilting your chin up. “We will make it back. We always make it back right?” biting your lower lip, you nodded slightly, trying not to let the tears spill. “You know what made me pull through the mission every time?”

“... What?” 

“The thought of you.” his voice dropped, laced with slight pain and sadness. “Coming back to you, to flirt with you,” you let out a teary chuckle, “I always think, will they get my hint this time round? Will they finally accept my invitation for a date?”

“.. you asked me out on a date before?”

“... Did you not realise?” 

You gave him a look, obviously not.

“So Bonnie, will you go out with me when I come back?” “.... Yes.”

“Well, this is a great place for a first date, Johnny.”

“It’s still a date, right?”

“Not with all the IV line and  wires attached to you, bandages around your head, cast on your leg…and three other people in the room.” “Don’t mind us.” “It’s hard not to.” 

A/N: Thanks @writeforfandoms for nudging me to write this. this actually went on longer than I expected.... taglist: @floral-force @homicidal-slvt @okayyadriana @jynxmirage @captainpriceslover @tapioca-marzipan @siilvan