#simon riley origin story

[sayonara-sailor]

I was far too scared to hit him

But I would hit him in a heartbeat now

That’s the thing with anger

It begs to stick around

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[yumethefrostypanda]

Ghost and Price working together for so long one look equals a whole conversation+next objective (imo). Part I

[natelia-aldelliz]

"I can't call Soap 'Johnny'," Alejandro grunts, an obvious smile in his voice.

"Don't," Soap answers immediately. "Only Ghost can pull that off."

Roach lifts an eyebrow. "And what am I supposed to call you then? Johnuald the third?"

Soap snorts, quietly enough that the others don't hear him, and sends him a look. Even in the dark, it's very obvious how much of a sunshine he is, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

Damn, Roach had never fallen for someone this fast before. Even with Simon, it had taken a few months. But for some reason, Johnny is so precious to him that he'd die - again - for him in a heartbeat.

"Jonathon? Jonah? Johnson? Johntay? I can keep going, I already had that conversation with Price years ago, and I had the internet back then. I had a pretty long list and I remember most of it."

"Cannae ye make yerself useful instead of bein a nuisance?" Soap whispers with a smile after quickly checking around that no one was paying him attention.

Roach gasps. "But being a nuisance is my true calling! You could say I like 'bugging' people, huh, get it, get it?" He beams when Soap shakes his head at him and goes through the wall.

The shadows are crawling outside, of course. He roams around, getting a rough headcount, then gets back at Soap with all the information. It's doable, honestly. Especially since Simon and him rigged several cars with explosives.

He is still a bit worried though, about Johnny's wound. He's not sure how it's possible, how he's still standing, but then again, he's a ghost talking to a living person, so there's that.

Rudy had said that no one except Alejandro can kill Alejandro, and Roach just has to wonder if Johnny got kind of the same deal. But Ale never gave any indication that he was seeing the burning person floating above his new friends, so maybe it's not the same.

With the clear intel he gives Soap, they make quick work of the Shadows and Price picks them up at the wall. If he was able to actually haunt people and not just follow them around uselessly, he'd stop haunting the Captain immediately as a thanks.

Because he's pretty sure Johnny actually needs some intense medical attention. He said that it didn't feel different than a leg or shoulder wound, but those definitely need more than just stitches and painkillers anyway.

It's very heartwarming, watching Soap greet the rest of the team with a puppyish energy, and he has to admit that it is kind of funny seeing Gaz and Price's faces when they notice the bullet hole in the front of his shirt.

The sight of Simon helping Johnny move along with a hand on the small of his back leaves him with mixed feelings.

There's the "I knew it!! I told you so!!" that he was expecting, of course, because he's always right and he did know it would happen. But there's also a pinch in his chest that he hadn't really expected. It's a feeling that he hadn't really felt since a really long time, since he was a teenager, probably.

Jealousy.

He hates it, he's always hated it. But the worst is he doesn't even know who he's jealous of. Perhaps he's finally remembering that he's dead and they're not, that all this flirting he's been doing with Johnny wouldn't have led to anything.

The grown arse sunshine of a man turns his head back, looking slightly confused, looking for him. When his eyes land on him, he beams so hard that it actually illuminates his whole face and Roach can't do anything except gravitate towards him like a moth to a light.

Wrong bug, he snorts internally.

"What's with you, smiley face?" he hears Simon ask when he gets closer.

Johnny is still looking straight at him, his smile getting softer. "Nothing," he answers, his gaze burning Roach more than the fire had. "Just glad you're here and glad we're leaving."

[valscodblog]

"He makes me giggle" Simon riley x OC TEASER!

OFFICAIL TEASER OF THE OFFICAIL SERIES OF GHOSTJEWEL <3

~<3~

"You said you loved her!"

"When did i say i didn't?"

He stared up at the taller man and glared.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Boy. This is My Daughter-"

"Right, like she calls you "Dad" anymore. Listen, mate, I'll be frank. I'm not a man of many words, but when i do talk, i make damn sure I'm understood."

and Ruby's father smirked. He looked the brute up and down, blood on his hands and boots, slapptered all over his vest and cargos...Ruby had taste, then.

"...What does my little Gem see in You?"

"He makes me Giggle."

~<3~

this series will contain mature themes such as S/A, CHILD ABUSE, AND SERIOUS BETRAYAL. And more. This series will not be for the faint of heart. I will be tagging a few moots, however if any moots i tag do not want to read of such things, in understand.

@2econd-of-1sts @skauni @writing-with-moss @needa-sum-luvn and uhmmm whoever i've ever ranted abt ghostjewel too tbh--

if any of you do not wish to see such things from me, do let me know in the comments or a reblog so i wont tag you when i release chapter one.

[thebutterflyofthemojave]

Diana and her Big Dada HC

(moodboard made by me)

Ghost in the Fallout AU with baby Diana. The stress about to stay away for weeks, the return at home where Laswell and her wife takes care of her after the death of his wife after the birth(its the wasteland unfortunately).

She is the only thing good in that world of death and pain, I imagine her first word “Dada”. Because she loves her big Dada so much.

When she says the first word he was returned after a request to assassinate some Gunners in a nearby factory, all covered in blood and sand, him tired, and sees his daughter of one year who tries to walk helped by Kate's wife and who keeps saying "Dada”

His eyes full of tears, the constant feeling of guilt in having to raise his little tangerine in such a world that are dissipated in that sweet "Dada" while he promised himself "to protect you little tangerine from this disgusting world”

[luveternals]

paring: 4. simon 'ghost' riley x artist male reader. cw: introvert reader with low self-esteem, there's a waiter whose love language is food, ghost has selective mutism(tell me if I got anything wrong), swearing, the seafront location was originally inspired by Naples' Lungomare, Italy. <- posto da visitare assolutamente, guys. a/n: bam! they thought I was gone, but I ain't. Lol guess whose first language isn't English. anyway, new posts' schedule: still to be decided (check the my pinned post). ~ ~ ~

You've seen this trend around for a while and decide worse case scenario people get offended, call you a creep, and you won’t be able to show your face to the public ever again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Put on the brave face, man, you tell yourself taking in a fortifying breath. It’s not that they don’t know how much of a loser you already are.

Not wanting to be the stalking weirdo on the train or subway, you choose a nearby café. They know you here, at least. Though, you can’t decide if it’s for the better or worse.

The waiter is already setting up a tray on the counter when you open the door, and from the cheeky little wink he gives you, you know it’s for you. Noah knows your goto morning food and drink, though you never told him. He found out all on his own — honestly, you don’t even recall having a favorite to begin with.

“There he is,” he says and pushes the tray towards you when you stop at the counter, “precious little artist. Punctual as ever.”

You try to smile, but it pulls at your lips and you know it looks nothing but awkward. “How do you know I might change my order today?”

“Are you going to?”

You shrug.

“Thought so.” He pokes at the tray and points at your table, set way at the back of the café. “Now, this better not go cold, hmm,” he leans forward and squints at you, “I mean it.”

You huff at him and turn away with the tray in hand. “Whatever, mom.”

“Oh!” you hear him gasp offended, “kids these days.”

Idiot.

One thing is certain, being a loyal customer of theirs has its little perks. One being your usual table has an unspoken reservation on it. Every time you come here, it’s there for you. The fact that people don’t usually sit this far from the counter unless there’s no other option is an appreciated bonus. You place the tray on the table, set your bag on the empty chair next to yourself, and finally take a seat.

Unsure of how to start, you pick Noah as the first subject of your little experiment. He’s been nagging you about making a portrait of him for ages now, so you know for a fact he’s not going to mind.

You start your sketch with his beaming face. A circle for the shape of the head. A downward line at the center to keep everything spaced correctly. Find the position of eyes and nose. Shape of the face. Erase the lines you don’t need anymore.

You brush off the little eraser crumbs away and raise your head to check his face again. He’s turned away though, and your attention slides to the customer in front of him waiting for his turn.

He’s a hulking figure, dark wear and face mask covering mouth and nose. You’ve never seen him around before.

Noah's café is small and cozy, tucked away in a little corner. Tourists don’t really pick this as their first choice.

You move to draw on an empty part of the page.

-

“Oh ho! Looky here.”

You jerk and almost fall off the chair at the sudden presence peering over your shoulder. "Jesus, fu— what the hell is wrong with you?”

He steals the sketchbook and flips through the pages. “Love struck, aren’t we?” he snickers, inspecting the lastest drawings you’ve added to your collection.

You snatch the book back and fight the urge to check if anyone heard. “I thought I told you not to touch without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands before him, “I just… it’s been a while since I saw you draw so passionately, and I got curious. thought you lost your muse.” He glances down at the sketchbook and gives you a playful grin, “I guess you found a new one?”

-

“It’s been an eternity, are you ever going to talk to him?” Mr I-don’t-know-how-to-mind-my-own-business sets a second pastry you never ordered beside your empty plate and lean over to look at your current drawing.

“Can you, like, leave me alone?”

“You’re an artist,” he says with the flattest tone, “without me, who would keep you fed and hydrated and alive, you?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin to stare up at him. How dare he? You don’t need no one’s help to take care of yourself, thank you very much. It’s not like you forget time passes when you're drawing and end up with only breakfast in your belly all day. it happened, sure. Still.

“You know what, you’re being a real pain right now,” you say and stand intending to leave the café and head to the park or something.

Of course, your action is too abrupt and you end up bumping into someone who was making their way to a table near yours. And catastrophe happens.

When you turn, you realize the person you knocked into is the man you’ve been drawing these last days. Even worse, his eyes are locked onto your open sketchbook right on the spread littered with portraits and drawings of him.

Fuck.

Here comes the part where he thinks you're a weirdo and leaves the café with the intention of never coming back.

“Oh, hello!” Noah says and wiggles his fingers at the man with an overly cheery expression. “My friend here was just about to come and talk to you about these,” he says, gathering your drawings and shoving them into your arms, “he’s a little shy, so he needed a little push,” he adds, then shoves you towards the other man.

You stumble but recover quickly, and when you turn to glare at your friend he simply sends you a wink and mouths ‘don’t be a loser and ask him out’.

“He’s not even being subtle at it.” You don’t expect the man to talk to you at all, or to stay after that to begin with. There’s amusement in his voice and when you meet his gaze, you find a soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. From this close up, his eye color catches your attention and you have to refrain yourself from leaning closer and finding out how it is that it seems to change from hazel-brown to blue and back. “Yeah,” you say again and drop your attention back to your things to stop yourself from staring, “he’s an idiot. But he's a good friend despite it all. He pretty much keeps me alive by shoving food into my face.”

-

Talking to Simon is not as awkward as you'd told yourself it'd be. He doesn’t judge you for all the drawings you did of him and instead compliments you on your skill. He does tease you, though.

“If I knew I was being stared at for so long I would have posed.”

“Shut up.”

“Need a model? I could do naked as well if you want.”

“Ugh.”

His laugh is contagious and you're helpless, so the teasing doesn’t stop.

-

Friendship with him is not the same as with Noah.

The waiter is a beaming ball of life, open and bold and buzzing with energy. You love him but, sometimes, spending time with him is quite exhausting. 

Simon on the other hand, he knows silence. 

He sits at your table, book in one hand and tea in the other, enjoying the simple company that is your presence despite not having said a word since the simple greeting you shared this morning.

Noah gives you a thumbs up from over Simon's shoulder.

-

“Why don't you just use a normal pencil for sketching?”

You peer up at him, hunched over the page. He's not even looking st you, but you know he's waiting for answer, curious and with real interest.

The first time he asked you a question, you've fumbled with your words unsure if he cared at all and if you'd scared him of with your chatter. Words aren't for you, but the longer you talk about the same thing on and on, you figure he doesn't mind and didn't ask just to have some awkward small talk. And so you blabber on about how it makes it easier to distinguish the first quick sketch with a color and the details you've added later with another.

He's eyes are pinned on you now, and you find you don't really mind being stared at like you thought you would.

-

“Ask him out.”

You haven’t even reached the counter and Noah is already at it. “Can you not?”

“Precious, I can see the love struck dreamy smile you give him from a mile away,” he says, adding a second steaming cup to your tray. “Introvert doesn’t mean allergic to people. You’re not the complete failure at socializing you imagine yourself being.” He pushes the tray towards you and leans against the counter. “youst case scenario, if he says 'no' I’ll go with you.”

You grimace. And then wide the look off your face when you register your reaction. “I mean— it's not that I don’t like you, it’s just that—”

“Wow, man. Wow,” he scoffs, “this is worse than when you left the sketch of my face half done.”

Oh, fuck. You forgot about that one?

“Whatever, man,” he says with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitch at the corners. “If he does say 'no', I'll buy you that kit you’ve been swooning over for the past month. Best quality color and all that.” He waves at you to move along, only to pull your tray closer to himself again and popping a tiny little pastry right in the middle. Then sends you off to your doom.

-

“I've been thinking,” you blurt out in response to his ‘mornin’’.

Simon pauses right about to take a seat, raises an eyebrow and finally settles down. “Have you, now?”

“Yeah,” you say and tap the end of your pencil against the table. “Yeah. Do you like the park? No, wait. Do you like going to the park with me— would you…” You take in a breath and raise your gaze to the ceiling, “really, now?”

After a long moment, you shift your attention back to him ready to try again. His eyes are shining, little wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes.

The mask covers it, but you know for a fact that he's smiling.

You feel your cheeks going warmer and you have to fight the urge to backtrack and hide behind your sketchbook. “Do you wanna,” you say, “go to the park with me?”

-

It's an oddity to find him already seated, no tea in sight either. From the look Noah gives you, after a month of simon coming in every day, this is a novelty for him as well.

You bring your tray to the table and sit beside him without a comment, only a simple greeting and a gentle smile. You set a cup of tea before him, alongside one of the sweets Noah refused to take back when you told him it was probably too much food. He actually looked offended by the comment.

“It’s double the stuff he usually gives me, Simon,” you say when he tries to have you keep it, “just eat it. Or better, help me finish it all, I beg you.”

He stares at the food for a long moment, then visibly gives up on convincing you. He doesn't touch it though.

The tea goes ignored as well.

You purse your lips. Well, that won’t do.

“Say,” you start and tilt your head to catch his gaze, “do you wanna go out for a walk? There’s a place I wanted to show you.”

He watches your face, then shifts his attention around the café, on Noah and finally on the food he left untouched.

“I'll have Noah put everything in a bag. I know he won't mind.”

He hesitates, but nods.

You smile at him and beam when the gesture seems to lessen the tension on his shoulders.

You bring him to a local bookstore. Like with the café, this is a little business famous mostly in the neighborhood. It’s never overly crowded but there’s always a kid or two binging their current read.

You leave him to scan the shelves and move to do the same not far.

Hah! They’ve finally restocked the stationary corner. Hooray! You definitely don’t need another journal, but no one can stop you from staring at them with gut wrenching despair.

Would Simon like it if I bought him one?

At the thought you turn to search for him and find him already making his way to you with a new book in hand.

You've got the membership card here so you manage to convince him to let you pay. Both for his book and the journal you're holding.

-

You don’t know many places to visit, but those you are familiar with are the best for those who don’t care for ‘crowded’.

The seafront isn’t one of them but you hope the view will make up for it.

It’s a risky move, but you think you’ve grown close to him enough to know he's quite comfortable with being by himself, but sometimes silence isn't what he wants or needs.

Noah told you you’re a pretty good observant and that analyzing the world around you is what makes you an artist. So you hope he wasn’t making that up.

There's a little corner towards the end. Here the view is partially covered but when you check his face, you're glad to discover he doesn't seem to mind at all. He hasn't said a word at all since you met this morning, but his attention has been pinned on you all day even after the nonsense rant you've gone on about AI art. 

You pull out a thermos from the café’s cute, little bag and hand it to him like an hesitant offering. His tea has been kept safe and warm inside all morning, but you don't know if he'll accept it after earlier. 

His eyes soften and he takes the thermos with the same care you've handled it with, and holds it in both hands like he wants to keep it safe.

A spark of hope warms your insides, so you take out two pastries and hand one to him. "He's going to make me eat more tomorrow," you say and take a bite, as if to show him Noah does know how to bake — oh, yep, he really does. God. "And you haven't had breakfast yet. Please?"

It takes a moment, but eventually, he turns away from any unwanted gaze, moves his face mask out of the way, and brings the food to his mouth to take a bite.

It slow, delibeate and so very careful, but he's eating, and now you finally understand. How Noah cares so much about keeping you fed. 

~ ~ ~ a/n: I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. Here's what I was thinking: noah is there to keep the reader from neglecting himself; ghost is a new face at the café and with a little push they become friends; reader starts taking care of ghost end consequently takes care of himself. comment, reblog and/or follow. yadda, yadda, yadda, this blog feeds off feedback or it'll go boom! don't just like please...

[saltycryptid]

Ghost’s head has always been too wise, but his heart is nothing but fire and ashes.

A page featuring a scene from the fanfic solemn prayer, poppy in my hair by @congee4lunch! Specifically from the fifth chapter because the prose haunts me to no end, genuinely so beautiful.

[cherryredstars]

“Ocean separates lands, not souls..” ― Munia Khan

"Every night I have dreamt of you. You plague my dreams, in the most deepest, truest sense. In every vivid picture, I love you and you, I. Each dream is a glimpse of pages from the storybook of our lives together. Futures so ripe that if I were to bite into them and give in to temptation, my mouth would be forever stained with its sweetness and the forbidden fruit would dribble down my chin and dry there. My skin would absorb it until it seeped into my bloodstream and it flowed through my heart over and over again. Until it was carved into my very soul and became nothing short of everything that I am. It would coat my hands and my heart and my mind until all I can breathe is you. It transcends even Odysseus's devotion to Penelope. It is so all-consuming that even I fear it."

Where Ships Sail: A Historical Romance

Simon Riley is a dirt poor boy living along the ports of mid-1700 Great Britain. He is only fifteen when he meets her: the girl who owns the ports. She is everything that he is not, but everything he will ever come to want. No amount of class divides or silky lace dresses are a match for the love beginning to drown his heart.

But love is not the only thing Simon must face.

There are revolutions across the sea, a family who needs to be fed, and a desperate need to show his worth. With an ocean between them, Simon must fend for himself and his country if he wishes to become the best for the people he loves the most. But after receiving a wake-up call in the battle fields, Simon realizes there is no time to waste when it comes to love. Upon returning to where it all started, Simon finds he might already be too late.

original story inspiration

Chapter 1: Where it Begins

Read it here.

Their lives will always start and end where ships sail.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

[mccutcheon121]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) Additional Tags: Minor Original Character(s), Past John "Soap" MacTavish/Original Character, Minor John "Soap" MacTavish/Original Character(s), Established Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & John "Soap" MacTavish Friendship, Past Verbal Abuse, very little, like one sentence, Task Force 141 as Family (Call of Duty), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Between Soap and Price, Good Friend Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Protective Simon "Ghost" Riley, Canon-Typical Violence, Threats of Violence, Dialogue Heavy, I'm Bad At Tagging, sorry - Freeform, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022) Summary:

“Oh fuck me,” Soap grumbles, taking a sip from his drink, demeanor going from smiling to not in a matter of a split second.

Ghost looks around without moving his head to see what caused the sudden mood change. He doesn’t spot much, the regular military-issued uniforms, some in more downtime clothes, others showing off more. Nothing stood out to the sniper.

“Oi is that–?” Gaz starts.

“Aye,” Soap answers before the other could finish.

“Let me rough him up a bit for you,” the British man says, cracking his knuckles. 

[luminousscorch]

Weak

Simon Ghost Riley x oc (Clarissa), gore, angst, character death (au), mention of infected, MW2, zombies (au)

A mission involving a hostage is set into panic after an unforeseen visitor makes its intentions known.

word count: 1654 approx

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Siren had been alone with Task Force 141's hostage for 12 hours on the dot. She listened constantly on her comm for new orders, only checking in every hour to allow them some peace of mind. Other than that, Clarissa had received no new intel, learning bits and pieces of how their current mission was going from Price, who she was reporting to.

Their hostage had just fallen asleep and Siren took this advantage by eating for the first time in many days. She also took this moment to miss her battle buddies… and Simon… she had been away on missions for longer and the sniper only imagined that he felt the same way about her being gone with no news. 

Swallowing, Clarissa threw her trash in an old garbage bin and threw some old trash over it. Old habit. 

Doing a perimeter check and finding nothing but old bootprints from her force, Siren returned to the old wooden house and sat down to clean her guns. She didn't usually do something like this on a mission but her anxiety was making its way up her spine like frostbitten vines, determined for her to return to the inner depths of her brain. 

Clarissa Cole had just recovered from her first, and hopefully last, self-destructive mindset and everyday it lurked, just outside of the shadows, with its cold fangs and piercing green eyes to rip her down again. 

Funny how even when you're actively trying to avoid it how it is still the only thing you think about; like a former addict to the thoughts of a high. 

Her ears pricked at a sound. A growl. An animal, maybe? No armed force would growl to get her attention, right? Siren waited, still as stone as she strained for another noise, something that could either confirm or deny that their hostage and her were in danger. 

None came. 

Continuing to tear apart her guns, they lay scattered in front of her as she went through the motions. Take them apart, put them together….

"Your guns are an extension of yourself." A memory of Shepherd's visit at her boot camp echoed in her ears. "Remember every groove, every sound. Keep every piece close, know without thinking where each part goes. Danger is everywhere and imminent."

Another growl, louder this time, made Clarissa stop in her tracks. Fear gripped the back of her eyes as the woman slowly looked up at the window, which was clouded over and cracked. Her fear turned to terror as she saw the silhouette of a man just disappearing out of sight. She struggled to get a gun put together, Siren was never good at close combat and if this person was a danger, she would be easily outmatched. 

Fitting the last part on her pistol, Clarissa barely had time to take the clip out of her pocket before the door almost flew off the hinges. Terror was not the word she would've used, it was something far worse, like her soul itself recoiled in her skin but Clarissa's body made no movement. 

The thing that stood in the doorway was not human. It's eyes veined with blue, skin an ashen color, teeth yellowed and bloody were bared like an animal, clothes ragged and torn, the growl it was emitting was dry and cracked, white foam bubbled at the corners of it's mouth. 

Siren quickly gained her bearings, spinning on the ball of her foot and trying to dart to the hostage's room. Before she could reach the hallway, the thing rammed into her side with a shriek, jaws snapping. 

Clarissa kicked at it, her pistol clip bounced across the old linoleum, leaving the woman to fend for herself. A roar rumbled in her throat but it was encased in horror as Clarissa realized nothing she was doing was deterring it. 

Finally peeling it off her, Clarissa did a mix between a crawl and a run to the hostage room, fear in her seaglass green eyes as she heard the snarl behind her, met with its fingers scratching at her throat from behind. Speeding to her knife, Siren spun, simultaneously causing the thing's nails to scratch her neck deeply and stabbing it in the shoulder before using a kick to distance the two of them. 

By now, the hostage was screaming. Blood gushed from the side of her throat as she used anything and everything in the room to block the door. 

"Be quiet!" She growled at him before falling to the ground, adding pressure to her wound. Catching her breath in large gasps that dried her throat, Clarissa turned on her comms to everyone, not just Price this time, "I am requesting backup, something's wrong. I am injured. Again, I am requesting backup. S.O.S." She repeated herself three times before shutting her comms off. She couldn't bear to hear any of her men, her fiancé, her best friend.

Blood soaked through her fingers and she tore her jacket off and replaced it with that. The door was being pounded on, it had already been broken in places, the thing's eyes darted into the room and lingered on her… then it picked up the pace. 

Facing death was a part of the job. Clarissa had been faced with it countless times but none had been like this. She ordered the hostage into the old closet and told him to keep quiet.

As the door splintered and caved, the woman remembered Soap's jokes, Wasp's friendship, Price's mentoring nature, Gaz's stories, but her thoughts lingered on Ghost, her Simon, whom she loved more than her heart allowed; the man helped right her, helped teach her that a man's touch could be good, helped teach her to love; the night before the mission, the two had spent it in each other's arms, loving as if it was their last.

The creature was almost through the door. Narrowing her eyes and picking herself up from the floor, Clarissa Cole was not going to die here. 

···

Ghost's blood ran cold when Siren's S.O.S came across the comms. They had just dealt with a horde of infected people, the area was clear and they were due for extraction, he had even felt a twinge of excitement thinking about getting back to Clarissa. 

He met eyes with Wasp, who was already looking at him with terror. She was alone. The team simultaneously began replying to her comms, begging for more information. The sound of the helicopter filled Ghost's ears as they climbed in and made an immediate u-turn to Siren. 

Her silence made Ghost sick. He felt as if millions of ants were crawling over his skin, anxiety making his jaw clench. Soap put his hand on his shoulder and Ghost couldn't even look at the lad.

They could see from a distance that the door was open and Ghost felt bile climb his throat as the heli dropped them off, turning the engine off. Price pushed himself to the front of the group.

Everyone was silent as they stepped into the quiet house. Ghost swallowed thickly as he saw the scattered parts of her rifle on the table and floor, the clip in the kitchen. The hallway where the hostage was being kept was in front of him off to the right. A pit in his stomach grew bigger as Wasp stepped around him, paler than a sheet as he aimed his gun into the dark hallway. 

Ghost finally found his bearings and followed close behind him. He almost dropped his gun when he realized the walls and floor were covered in blood, drops and finger trails. 

When they got to the door, Ghost was holding his breath as Wasp reluctantly swung the destroyed door open and a loud shuffle gave him a flash of relief. As Wasp swung his flashlight around, Ghost saw that the room was bloodied, a body lay across the room in the corner, it was unfamiliar… unfamiliar and dead. That was a good sign. 

"Siren?" Ghost's voice was the one she needed to hear so she would feel safe enough to let her guard down. 

A low groan from by the closet alerted the team as they rushed in. Ghost quickly went to advance to his partner but a swift fist to the chest stopped him and he barked out. "What?" Simon's voice died in his throat as he saw her. The love of his life was unrecognizable; white skin, blue veined eyes, jaws dripping with gore as she looked up from the body of their hostage. 

"Oh," Ghost's voice cracked as his knees buckled under him, "Oh, no." 

He hit the ground the moment one of their guns went off, putting Clarissa to rest. He crawled to her and reached her with a shaky arm as Simon felt his vision blur with tears, her skin was cold as if it had been in the freezer, closing her eyes and wiping the blood from her mouth with his hand, Ghost weeped for the woman he loved. 

The team around him was in shambles as they came to terms with the death. Price had to leave the room to request pickup for her body, Soap stared at Ghost and Siren shell shocked before leaving the room himself, Wasp was unmoving from the corner.

Ghost couldn't give two shits what they did right now. This was the woman he was going to propose to, he wanted a life with her, have stupid kids and live a domesticated life with… her S.O.S message played on loop in his head, the last traces of her voice.  Feeling anger of the situation deep within his core, Ghost carried her outside to the heli, eyes teary but narrowed and angry… so angry at the events that unfolded here and before that. Simon Riley was not going to let her death be in vain.

[winterwandersland]

i think i might do a separate story that’s just little moments between characters to show more of their relationship. it would be the same storyline though and like short stories.

[shadow0-1]

He’s a dog with a bone

[cloudofbutterflies92]

In recent days I created a video of a possible Silent Hill AU with Ghost and Eden but I don't know if I should post it or change something 🤔

[simp4ghostie]

Ghost ~ Oneshot

MDNI 18+

Fem reader y/n x Ghost

Feel free to leave suggestions!

The lieutenant and you had always gotten along well. During missions the two of you seemed almost in sync. Your ability to become an unstoppable duo made you have quite the dynamic. Ghost recently suggested you come to his room in the barracks, the sexual tension was killing them. Fearing backlash or the possibility it was a setup somehow, you declined.

After a long mission you’re both headed back to the barracks, chatting as the two of you walk side by side.

“y/n I have a gift for you, I just need to grab it from my room” He states rather monotone, however his accent makes every syllable like liquid gold.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go into your quarters Lieutenant?” Her voice soft beside him.

“I’m the boss, I say it is so it is” He grumbles.

“Yes sir” She follows him to his door and walks in behind him. His quarters are quite simple to her very decorated room.

He locks the door behind him and stands there staring at her back. The curve of her body. Ghost was going to have her.

“The box on the kitchen counters for you” He says nodding in the direction of a plain black box.

Your eyes trail over to the box and you walk over to it, lifting the lid off. What you see is something you would have never guessed your lieutenant of all people would gift this to you.

You reach in and pull out a decently sized Pink vibrator. “Sir… wha-“

Ghost stalks up to you and grabs the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Cut the shit y/n. We’ve both made our wants very clear. And since you won’t let me fuck you, I got you this” he says grabbing the toy from your hand,”So you can fuck yourself while I watch”

“Simon… we shouldn’t, what if someone catches us?”

“There’s nothing in the rules saying we can’t” He says his gloved hand stroking your hair, “Want me to show you how it works?”

y/n looks up at him and nods her consent.

He puts a hand on her chest pushing her backwards against the wall. Slowly trailing his hand down to her pants popping the button open and pulling them down and off.

“Bloody hell” he groans when he sees your lacy black panties. Hooking his finger in the hem and pulling them off as well. Exposing your pussy, he turns the toy on. It starts to vibrate and he places it on your clit.

“aah fuck!” you cry out as the sensitive bud is being overstimulated.

“So responsive, your cunts already dripping” He practically growls. You feel the cool texture of the fake cock at your entrance. It slides through your slick folds quickly.

“oh my god” y/n cry’s out and moans as she feels him turn the vibration up more, the part on the outside touching her clit driving her mad.

He pushes another button and it starts to thrust inside of her slowly.

Moans and whimpers escape your lips, as he lets the toy fuck you.

A sudden knock at the door beside you makes your eyes bulge.

“Stay quiet” Ghost instructs. He cracks the door.

Panic fills you hoping they can’t see you.

“Hey Johnny” Ghost says calmly.

“Hey Ghost! I was looking for y/n, have you seen her? I was supposed to drop off some files for her but she never answered her door” you hear Soap say.

Suddenly Ghost hits a button to make the vibrations even stronger. Your chest heaves and you clamp your hand over your mouth to silence your moans.

You were so close to coming, the feeling building up and making you overly sensitive.

“Nope I haven’t. Maybe she’s in the showers, or training room” Ghost says casually.

“Alright I’ll check the training room, if she’s not there I’ll wait till tomorrow. By the way I think your phones going off I hear it vibrating” Soap says.

“Yeah I hear that too, Thanks Johnny. Good luck” Ghost says to him with a wave. Shutting the door and locking it once again.

“I need you to be a good girl and follow orders. Is that clear love?” His deep voice demands.

“Yes sir” y/n replies.

“My bed, naked. Now.” He says and pulls the toy out of you. It’s dripping with your wetness.

“Fuck that’s delicious” he moans and brings the toy to his mouth pulling his mask up to expose his lips, licking it and groaning. You notice the tent in his pants, and promptly go to his room. Quickly you toss off your shirt freeing your tits and lay on the bed.

Simon enters the room with a chair in his hand and sets it at the foot of the bed. He sits down and his eyes meet yours and then trails over your naked body.

“You are more perfect then I imagined…I want you to use this on yourself” He tosses you the toy. You take it and lay back on his pillows.

You watch as he unzips his pants and frees his cock. You practically drool at the sight of it, it’s about 8 inches long and girthy with veins. He fists it with his gloved hand stroking slowly as he watches you tease your pussy.

The toy stretches your pussy making you moan in pleasure.

“Fuck… Simon” you moan as you watch him stroke his cock.

“That’s it doll…. Keep going” he pants breathlessly.

The pressure builds in your lower belly, as you work yourself.

“Ghost please” she begs staring at his cock mesmerized,” I need you”

“What do you need Love? Tell me. Use your words.

“I need you inside me” she whines and arches her back.

Ghost gets off the chair and gets on the bed standing on his knees. He grabs your ankles and drags you to him. Quickly grabbing the toy and throwing it somewhere, it doesn’t matter he doesn’t need it anymore.

“I only got a taste earlier, I need to fucking feast” he growls out and puts his mouth on your pussy. Licking and sucking on you. Nipping your clit with his teeth.

“Oh fuck, oh my god Simon don’t stop” y/n cry’s out tears at the corner of her eyes from the overwhelming feeling.

His mouth moves intently on you, drinking down your wetness like he’s dying and it’s the only thing that can save him.

You cry out as you come, feeling Simon growl against your pussy. Making your sensitive puffy flesh pulse.

When he lifts his head he looks at you completely feral. His eyes heavy with desire, the skull mask making your stomach get butterflies. Watching him crawl up your body and position his cock at your entrance, rubbing the head against your pussy. Spreading your sloppy pussy juices over himself.

“You ready for this y/n?”

“Yes sir” she says with a smirk.

In one flush moment he shoves his cock all the way inside of your hungry pussy.

“Aw fuck!” You cry out at the sudden intrusion.

You’ve never felt so full in your life. He leans down breathing heavy by your ear.

“You feel like fucking heaven love” he groans against your ear.

Slowly he begins pumping into you, stretching you comfortably. Without warning he picks the pace up, pounding into you. The obnoxious noise of bodies slapping and wetness filling the room. Along with your cries of pleasure and Ghosts loud groans.

“Simon… I’m close”

“Me too y/n” he starts pounding harder and you arch your back, pressing your tits into his chest with a cry as you release.

Suddenly he groans and you feel a flood of warmth inside your pussy, and the throbbing of his cock pulsing. Filling you up with his cum.

“Dear god..” he says and slowly pulls out of you. He watches as the mixture of your cum leaks out of your pussy.

You smile at him as you say,” thank you Lieutenant”

His eyes meet yours and raises an eyebrow.

“For what y/n?”

“For the gift” you say with a smirk.

[dani3aby]

new story teaser?

“Captain, I’ve got something for you.”

“Well, that’s never good coming from you.”

Kate Laswell smirks to herself on the other end of the phone, knowing that Price’s words were spot on. She sighs, opening a manilla folder file on her desk and shifting through its papers. 

“New mission for the 141.”

Price huffs. “Fantastic.”

The Captain places the phone on the table, pressing the speaker button so that each soldier present in the room can hear the debrief Laswell was about to give. Sergeants Soap and Gaz lean forward in their seats while Lieutenant Ghost steps closer to the table, his arms stoically crossed. “Lay it on us.” Price sighs. 

Laswell looks over the papers on her desk. “The last two months, we’ve gotten reports of some sporadic murders. Normally, this isn’t something the FBI would be concerned with. Leave it up to the state police.”

Price nods. “Right.”

“Well, the victims happen to be some important people. Two senators from the US, one politician from Germany, another from the UK, and seven government officials from Russia. It's threatening national security. We have no idea who is killing these guys or why they are doing it. Shepard is on my ass about this. I need you guys to find this guy and bring him in. Preferably alive for interrogation. I've got a lead; I’ll send it over to you.” Laswell finishes, starting to type away on her computer.

“How d’you know it’s only one guy commitin’ these murders?” Ghost speaks up.

“He leaves a…calling card, of sorts. Pink ribbon, tied to the victims. It’s a bit…” Laswell trails off.

“Odd?” Soap finishes. Price glances at his brothers-in-arms, his gaze lingering on Ghost for a moment, almost as if silently asking his opinion on the matter. Ghost only gives the Captain a blank look. The phone on the table dings, and Price picks it up to see the information on the lead Laswell sent. “All right, we’ll get it done.” Price says, standing from his chair.

“I’ll be in touch. Play this smart, Captain. This guy is dangerous. He escaped three different capture attempts. He knows what he’s doing.” Laswell warns through the phone. 

Price grins, glancing at the men in front of him.

“Well, so do we.”

************************************************************************

is this something people would be interested in? ive had this idea in my head for a HOT minute and i would loveeeee to write it all out. it will probably be a long story, lots of parts and plots cause im just silly goofy like that but trust me, the idea is SO GOOD (like actually). imagine if you mixed COD with Marvel's Black Widow storyline......BIG HINT BUT-