#simon riley x yn

[celestialprincesse]

🎀💕🌺💐

"C'mon, open up, baby. Be a good girl for daddy." Simon's gruff voice echoes through the kitchen of your shared apartment, sending shivers down your spine as you cock your head inquisitively to the side.

"Promise it won't hurt, and afterwards I'll get yo a real big treat, hm? How's that sound my pretty girl?"

What the fuck? Who the fuck is he talking to?

It's not you, that's for sure.

Silently, you make your way to just outside the kitchen door, pushing it open with a wince at the slight squeak. You remind yourself to whip out the WD-40 later.

"Oh, thank God you're here." Simon sighs, having obviously noted your presence. It's unfair, really, that you can't sneak up on your own husband in your own. home.

Making you feel even sillier still, is the fact that said husband is currently hunched over the wriggling form of your dog, flea prevention treatment in one hand and a bag of treats in the other.

"Gis' a hand. She won't take her fuckin' pills."

🎀💕🌺💐

Hi hello I thought of this last night after having writers block for weeks

[dixonsgirl93]

Ghost: Wait. You have an OnlyFans?

Y/N: Y…yeah…

Ghost: *gets up and just walks away*

Y/N: *visibly hurt*

Ghost: *comes striding back and sits back down next to you*

Y/N: Wh…?

Ghost: I was getting my phone. What’s the link?

Y/N: *smirking and blushing*

[katsudoodles]

I love that people on TikTok now make headcanons that portray Ghost in a more realistic way and how all his torture and SA affected him.

We also know that Ghost is most likely absolutely scared of snakes because of his father 🐍

Now imagine this:

You have been on a mission with Ghost in some tropical country where you often stumble upon those creatures. It's hot and humid, you feel like your clothes are drenched with sweat, you assume that Ghost is irritated because of this, he snaps at you more frequent than usual. You grit your teeth and continue the mission, as usual. You have known him long enough to learn that under his rough exterior he cares and sometimes you'd even crack some jokes. However now he seems to be constantly on the edge and you can feel the tension that lingers around him. You wonder why since the mission wasn't particulary hard and you have been on your best behavior. You have no idea so you just sigh and follow him.

You weren't scared of snakes as one of your friends is a serpent lover and has dozen of them. They have really impressive knowledge, as a consequence you have spent many hours listening countless lectures featuring snakes and how to deal with them, thanks to them you knew how to handle aggressive ones too. Twice you helped you friend to catch some runaway snakes.

At some point you had to stop and take a break. You stand between tall trees when sun is burning your skin, you squint your eyes. As Ghost chugs down his water you notice reptile hanging down on the branch, ready to attack him. Your reaction is instant and you catch the offender before it has a chance to sink it's teeth in Simon's neck, holding it by the head as it wraps rest of it's body around your arm. You quickly pull out your knife and plunge it through the beasts skull and throw the lifeless body away with silent motherfucker under your breath. You wipe your hand along with the knife and look at Ghost who stands there bewildered. "You good there, LT?" You ask when he stays silent, for a little too long to your taste, watching you intenly. Your voice brings him back to reality. "Yeah." He grumbles but his eyes go softer when looking at you. "Be careful next time." You smile hearing this and explain to him that you're not scared of snakes thanks to your friend. You both move further through the forest you as you recall how you helped your friend to catch a snake that run from its terrarium. He listens you attentively, every word. You can't see it, because of his balaclava, but he smiles. He thanks heavens for your presence like you were an angel that has been sent for him, you did put him at ease so maybe he will be able to sleep this night in the tent. You notice that he seems more relaxed and stays closer to you when you move further. You smile to yourself as your heart beats a little bit faster in your chest.

***

What has this fandom done to me, I haven't written shit since I was 14 😀 and I'm 28 now

[mlmxreader]

Mornings At Home | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Ghost with

31 “Y'know, I hate being a thousand miles away from you”

73 "Try and stop me from stealing your clothes, I dare you" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Ghost isn't used to being home, but he does have moments where he adores it.

: ̗̀➛ dissociative symptoms, trauma, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Ghost grumbled as he yawned and turned onto his side, still not quite used to there being a dog at the foot of the bed or another person at his side; for months, he had been away on deployment, for months, he had gotten used to sleeping on dingy cots that were too small for him and harsh cold floors that made him shiver and shake something awful.

He was home now, but that didn't seem to change a damn thing. He still slept mostly on his back with his arms stiff at his sides. He still drank coffee black with no sugar, even though he always used to drink it with milk and two sugars. He still refused blankets at night, no matter how cold it was.

He still woke up sweating, screaming and panting heavily. His hands still shook when he looked at himself in the mirror, and although he rarely told you, he sometimes thought that he was in a film. Watching himself from a distance, He felt like that a lot. He never told anyone but Gaz about it.

Ghost told Gaz everything. Gaz told him everything in return. But he couldn't tell you.

You were… different.

Ghost never wanted you to panic, he never wanted you to become worried and anxious for him; he couldn't stomach the thought of such a thing. There were a lot of things that Ghost never told you, wanting to save you from the fact that he had been to Hell and back and had come out more than burned and charred.

Wanting to save you from himself. But as he turned over now, and he felt you squirm into him, fitting into his embrace as he lazily allowed his arm to flop over you, he couldn't help but to smile a little. There was no doubt in Ghost’s mind that he had already gotten a text from Gaz asking if he wanted to go for a morning run, or maybe one from Price asking if he would be down for going to the pub and playing a game of darts or snooker.

But he couldn't honestly find it in himself to care as he pressed his face to the back of your neck and inhaled the scent of your cologne, your shampoo and body wash, your conditioner; he grumbled softly, a weak protest when he felt you start to stir. Stretching and nearly breaking free from him.

“I need a hoodie…” you murmured. “I've gotta meet Hesh later…”

“Don't steal mine,” Ghost mumbled, pulling you tighter to him.

You laughed, the sound low and breathy as you relaxed, turning over and onto your side so you could get a good look at him. “Try and stop me from stealing your clothes, I dare you.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he moved to lay on top of you, his head on your chest as he grabbed the bedpost. Trapping you. “Consider it down.”

“That's not fair,” you huffed, squirming beneath him as you did your best not to laugh. The dog looked up, his ears perked up as he tilted his head to the side. “You woke the dog up.”

The dog in question was more yours than Ghost’s; a dark blue greyhound, he had golden eyes with one being slightly lighter than the other, and long thick black whiskers on his muzzle.

You had talked Ghost into getting him, insisting on getting a rescue greyhound instead of the retired military working dog that Ghost wanted. He caved after you showed him the skinny, beaten up, shell of a dog.

“You woke the dog up,” Ghost muttered, moving to kiss your neck sweetly. “You were the one squirming.”

You laughed, pushing him off of you and wheezing when the dog, thinking that Ghost wanted to play, pounced on him and started barking.

“Get him, Greywind! Go on!”

Ghost laughed as he gently pushed the dog aside, giving him a good pat on the shoulders to let him know he wasn't in any trouble before he turned to you. “Y'know, I hate being a thousand miles from you… ain't the same when I wake up without you.”

You smiled, daring to lean your head on his shoulder as you put your arm around him, gently running your hand up and down his bicep as you hummed softly. “Why do I always feel like there's something you're not telling me?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly and frowning. “There's stuff I can't tell you. You know that.”

“I don't mean about work,” you sighed.

“I don't want you to worry,” he told you, shaking his head. “I can't tell you.”

“You promise if you're not alright, you'd tell me?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Ghost lied with a curt nod. “Of course.”

“I'm still stealing your hoodie,” you told him softly. “I'm stealing your camo one, it's warmer.”

He rolled his eyes, but knew that he had lost that war; if there was any fight he was bound to lose, it would be over you asking for something. But then again, it had always been a war that he was happy to lose.

Seeing you smile made him feel less like he was utterly hopeless, and knowing that he was the reason behind it made him feel like he wasn't entirely too far gone.

Any war lost to you was a blessing.

Besides, as much as he didn't particularly like to admit it to anyone else except you and Gaz, there was nothing more that Ghost liked than to see you in his hoodies; knowing that you would smell like him, knowing that you would be infected by it and that everyone would be able to smell it on you.

He liked knowing that.

“Where are you and Hesh off to?” He asked curiously.

“We're gonna go to the museum,” you started, “and then we're gonna grab some food, then do some shopping… you're still welcome to come, y'know.”

“He's your friend,” Ghost hummed. “Not mine… I'm sure me and Greywind will be fine for a couple of hours without you… you deserve to have fun.”

Gently, you missed his cheek. “If you're lucky, I might just buy you a new hoodie.”

Rolling his eyes, Ghost grinned as he laughed.

[reina-writes]

Simon "Ghost" Riley being your bodyguard would include [part 1]

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader

Warnings: mention of kidnapping, mention of arms dealing.

A/N: This is headcanon "Simon Riley being your bodyguard would include", part 1/3: How Simon Riley got recruited to be your bodyguard.

What do you think, should I turn this into full fic?

Captain Price standing by the large map of the world, studying various markers and intel reports. Simon entering the room, his posture disciplined as he salutes the captain.

"Simon, good that you're here. I've got a new assignment for you."

Price telling about the mission briefly: the L/N family is under threat as their only child has become the target of some dangerous individuals. They're already attempted to kidnap you once and it's no doubt they will try again.

It turns out that during one of Task Force 141's previous missions, they had encountered a high-ranking member of the illegal arms trade network that now threatens the L/N family. This mission involved disrupting a major arms deal orchestrated by the network.

In the aftermath of that mission, Task Force 141 obtained valuable intel that revealed the existence of a larger, more dangerous network. However, the intel wasn't complete and they needed more information to fully dismantle the operation.

It's during their ongoing investigation that they discover the connection between the L/N family and the arms trade network.

During that ongoing investigation happened the first attempt of kidnapping.

The first kidnapping attempt further solidified the need for your protection and Task Force 141 realized just how grave the situation had become. The perpetrators were not just ordinary criminals; they were part of a well-connected and dangerous network with access to advanced weaponry and resources.

This is why Price invited Simon into his office.

Simon's eyes narrowing slighty, registering the seriousness of the situation. "What my job would be, sir?"

Captain Price looks at Simon, his expression unwavering. He knows the man and he also knows that Simon Riley is the best man for this mission.

"Your job, Simon, is to be Y/N's shadow. You're their bodyguard. You'll be with them at all times, ensuring their safety and acting as their first line of defense."

Simon's jaw clenching as he takes in the responsibility. He can't shake the image of you being a typical party person, who is born into wealth and privilege, seemingly clueless about the dangers of lurking in the shadows.

"Sir, I understand the importance of this mission. But I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a soldier. I'm trained to fight, not to hold someone's hand. If you want someone to babysit them, you're looking at the wrong guy."

Price raising an eyebrow and being seemingly amused by Simon's resistance.

"You might be a soldier, but you're also one of the best, Simon. I handpicked you for this mission because I trust your instincts, your combat skills, and your ability to adapt to any situation."

Simon sighing as he feels the weight of captain's trust on his shoulders.

"With all due respect, sir, this feels like a waste of my skills. Protecting a pampered heir doesn't exactly scream 'special forces.'"

Captain Price's expression softens slightly, understanding Simon's frustration. "I know it's not your usual mission, but I need you to put aside your preconceptions about Y/N L/N. They are not what they appear to be on the surface."

Simon's curiosity was piqued, but he remains skeptical. "What do you mean, sir?"

Captain Price leaning in, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"You'll see."

The smirk on Price's face as Simon blinks in surprise.

Simon knows he doesn't have any options but to give in. It's a sense of duty and responsibility.

"I won't let you down, sir. I'll protect them with everything I've got."

After this Simon joined the rest of the team in the briefing room, where Captain Price goes over the details of the mission, laying out their plan to protect you and gather more intel on the arms trade network.

Simon couldn't help but feel a mix of determination and unease. He knew that this mission was not going to be a walk in the park. Your life depended on their success and he had to set aside his reservations and focus on the task at hand.

The team would work in shifts to ensure round-the-clock surveillance on you, setting up secure communication channels and keeping you safe.

It was clear that this job would require Simon's attention 24/7 and he would be the one responsible of your safety. Where you would go, he'ld go. And for what Simon understood, your social calendar was full of events and parties.

After the briefing Soap gave Simon a knowing look.

"Looks like you've got yourself a little spark to protect, Ghost."

[lisztomaniqcc]

Every Now and Then

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

note: i was vv bored also tysm for all of the interactions it makes me absolutely overjoyed 🫶‼️

ghost was never one for kisses or hugs

he never liked physical touch and would rather be stabbed than cared for

ghost always thought he'd hate physical touch, he thought that he wasnt deserving of it

until you came in, a rookie with a bright and bubbly personality

whod always crack jokes and tease soap and gaz

but youd always respected his boundaries even despite teasing him

he always denied to himself that he wasnt staring at the way your lips looked so kissable and soft, the way your lip gloss made your lips shimmer so perfectly

the way theyd curve whenever youd give him a toothy grin after teasing him

they way youd worry them in between your teeth whenever youd patch him up

the way they looked wrapped around a belt whenever you were stitching yourself up

it wasnt until you kissed him after a mission

you had almost died, taking bullets and stab wounds to protect the barely conscious man

you were bruised and battered by the time back up and your emerg evac arrived

it wasnt until ghost walked into your hospital room that you wailed and screamed about how much you loved him and just how much he meant to you

it wasnt until he had his hands pressed to the back of your head and neck, his forehead pressing against yours

it wasnt until he finally pressed his chapped and scarred lips against yours did he finally admit to himself he liked physical touch, he liked your touch

he loved everything about you

he loved you

[kxsskvy]

Simon being the helpful Lt he is 💀👍🏻

Lazy doodle of OC/reader.

[moldycigarette]

this x simon “ghost” riley

cw!: praise, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, bulge, simon’s a nasty dog (and i tried to warn ya)

—————

simon never fails to remind you how much bigger he is than you.

you’re short? no problem, all those missing inches go to simon. oh wait you’re tall? whatever, he still towers over you.

are you chubby by society’s standards? just means there’s more for him to love. skinny? that’s okay too, he’s always down to eat whatever you can’t finish.

no matter what size or shape you are, it’s a guarantee that simon is still bigger than you. and he always manages to remind you of that in the bedroom.

his large hands around your waist, pounding into you with his thick cock. he obsesses over the bulge in your cute tummy from his size, practically drooling over the fact that he can’t even fit inside you’re pretty pussy all the way.

whether he’s fucking you doggy style or in a mating press, he will always tower over you. he makes sure you’re cum is on his fingers and his tongue alone before he shoves his meaty dick inside you; this man has the libido and stamina of a god.

“g’nna fuck this p’ssy so good, love. fill ya’ up to the brim,” he moans, his thrusts growing more erratic as he feels that familiar heat in his stomach.

you’re coming right along with him, seeing stars while he peppers kisses in your neck. “such a good girl f’r me, g’nna make the best mama.”

—————

um sorry didn’t mean to let out my inner whore

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[celestialprincesse]

If there's one thing that Simon loves about coming home from deployment, it's being able to absolutely spoil his girlfriend rotten. There's nothing quite like coming home with a pay check lining his pockets, and a sweet little bird chirping to him about the newest lipgloss, lingerie set or outfit she's seen online, trying to be subtle in the way she asks him to buy it.

Who's he to say no? Honestly, so long as he can follow her dutifully around Sephora, carrying her little basket and getting a good look at her ass, he really can't complain. Equally, he's more than fine with being a walking lipstick tester, making sure all of her chosen products are as transfer proof as the packaging claims them to be.

Admittedly, he does have to steer her away from the pet store, following a series of bunny related incidents which don't get brought up anymore. Thankfully, the Le Creuset store is only a couple of shops down, and have just restocked the pink, heart shaped Dutch oven she's been pining for, but absolutely cannot justify spending two hundred and something pounds on. He can though. He'll let money trickle through his fingers like sand so long as it means seeing her happy.

Lucky for him, she just has to express her gratitude for him buying her all of those lovely things. Said gratitude obviously expressed in bounding out into their bedroom as he sits reading the news in bed, wearing nothing but some little lace and silk teddy, which he can't wait to sink his teeth into.

a little something to apologise for my absence 🤭

[avaleigh16]

Y/n: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Gaz: Several traffic violations.

Ghost: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Soap: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Ghost: ... Your what?

Y/n: My friends.

Soap: Are they saying “friends”?

Price: I think they're being sarcastic.

Gaz: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Y/n! All of your friends are in this room.

Y/n: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

Ghost: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

Gaz: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Price: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: If you want my advice-

Gaz: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill Ghost. Multiple times.

Y/n: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, he also tried to kill me.

Ghost: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

[thephantomsdream]

[Y/N and Roach about to enter 141, having an introduction session with Price and Ghost in Price's office]

Roach: (being stupid)

Y/N: (side-eyeing him and whispering) Dude, you're making me look bad in front of the Grim Reaper and one of America's first colonizers.

[mlmxreader]

A Man After My Heart | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ 37 “I have a bad reputation.” “I don’t give a shit” with ghost please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Ghost takes a liking to another soldier, and although he's apprehensive, he doesn't realise that his attention is far from unrequited.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking, symptoms of mental illness

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

When Ghost first met you, he was immediately enamoured; loud mouthed, opinionated, no stranger to getting into fights and deeming it friendly fire. He was starstruck, in all honesty.

He started eating his dinner outside when he was on base, hoping to get a glimpse of you; you would always wave at him and nod curtly before sticking your arm up and offering him a thumbs up. It always made his heart pound in his chest.

So of course he did his best to impress you; sparring with new recruits alongside Gaz and hoping that you would walk by. Whenever you complimented his form, it would knock the wind right out of him, and he would stare at you, grinning like an idiot.

Naturally, his teammates - Gaz, Price and Farah - noticed, as none of them had ever seen Ghost have a soft spot before… well, Price did, but he supposed that Man City didn’t exactly count - plus they were shit, if Price was to be asked.

It was one of your teammates who approached Ghost, decked out in thick black spandex, leather and Kevlar from head to toe, only their dark brown eyes visible as they handed him a note; they didn’t say anything, just handed it to him and then moved on.

He glanced at it, and upon seeing your name at the bottom, bit at the inside of his lip as he smiled to himself; you had asked to meet him over by the smoking area. Of course he went, stealing two of Price’s cigarettes and hoping that the Captain wouldn’t notice - it was only fair play, after all.

Especially since Everton had recently won against Man City.

There was a slight giddiness in Ghost’s steps as he made his way to the smoking area, pulling out one of the cigarettes and lighting it; he almost dropped it when he saw you, decked out in your uniform.

A pair of freshly ironed and perfectly kept crimson trousers, yellow crossed Kukris on red backgrounds on each of your sleeves, a brown beret, khaki shirt and tie covered slightly by a black jacket.

You were quick to light a cigarette, leaning against the fence and glaring up at him.

“Seen you looking, Simon,” you huffed. “How you doing?”

You knew his name. Fuck.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he breathed out, sitting down on the harsh concrete beside you and doing his best not to lean into your leg. “You know my name?”

“I talked to your Captain,” you explained, “he says you fancy me.”

Ghost swallowed thickly as he turned his gaze to the ground quickly. “Well…”

“I’m not gonna bite,” you chuckled, shaking your head and gently nudging him. “Well, if you ask - I might consider it.”

He smiled, laughing a little as he chewed at the inside of his lip, taking a quick drag from his cigarette. “Will you, now?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And who says I’ll ask?” He mused, moving to sit in front of you and raising his brow.

You grinned as you raised your brows at him, grinning like the dog that got the bone. “Who says you won’t?”

“Fair point,” Ghost agreed with a curt nod. “But don’t you reckon I might bite?”

“You?” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Sweetheart, you can bite me all you want.”

His jaw fell slightly slack, a little stunned as he hummed and cleared his throat; no one had ever been so forward with him before, and he was… a lot more than taken by surprise, in all honesty.

His throat felt dry, and although Ghost was known to have a sharp tongue amongst his teammates, he felt as if he had fallen on his face as he did his best to come up with a response.

“I can?”

“Oh, yeah,” you beamed, more than aware of the effect that you had on him. “I’m not sure if you know, Simon, but I have a bad reputation.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he admitted, almost under his breath. “Don’t you know I have one of my own?”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, licking your lips as you tilted your head to the side slightly. “Oh, I’ve done my research… but I don’t care about that. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“You have?”

You nodded, finishing your cigarette and helping him stand up. “You’re not exactly subtle, y’know. I’ve seen a bull in a china shop with more subtlety.”

By now, Ghost’s face was burning bright pink as he grumbled; he had hoped that you wouldn’t have noticed his little crush, knowing that you were unattainable, but… but you would probably be the only person in the world to understand it.

To understand him.

The nightmares, the paranoia, the craving and the need to be on the battlefield; knowing nothing other than constant violence, than a war that would never end. You would be the only person in the world who could look him in the eyes and say you understood and actually mean it.

Nurses, civilians, medics, they would never understand what it would be like to have so much blood on their hands that their fingers stuck together and reeked of copper. He met your gaze, swallowing thickly, nearly gulping audibly.

“You understand, right?” He whispered. 

You nodded, putting your hand on his shoulder. “More than most, yeah… you ever see things that ain’t there?”

He nodded.

“Hear things?”

Another nod.

“You ever get convinced that you’re gonna be taken away by cunts in big white coats?” You asked softly. “Every van that pulls up… every car door closing…”

A third nod.

“Then we’re understood,” you told him. “They tell you it’s normal, right? Tell you that it just comes with the job?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “One and a half pills a day, they say.”

“But it’s not enough,” you mused. “Is it?”

“Never will be,” Ghost admitted. “Say… there’s a match on later - Man City against Arsenal - fancy going to the pub to watch?”

You nodded, shaking his hand. “It’s a date, Simon.”

He grinned, nodding back. “I’ll pick you up when it’s time?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “Spoons, or local?”

He took a moment to think about it. “Spoons?”

“Atta boy,” you chuckled. “Man after my own heart.”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I just got this idea and I trust your writing the most, I was wondering if you could write ,unless you already wrote this, where the reader steals König or ghost masks or anyone else and their reaction (nsfw or sfw is fine), thank you have a great day :))

König & Ghost's Reaction to their S/O Stealing their Mask

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Dominant Ghost, Dominant König, Territorial Military Men <3, Minor Spoilers of Ghost's Past, Mention of a Size Kink, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You.

König

Since he's absolutely massive, the ends of his sniper veil literally reach the bottom of your ribcage.

So when König sees you wear it for the first time, he's absolutely F L O O R E D

We don't call him Size Kink König for no reason.

Goes absolutely feral when he sees you draped in his veil.

Can barely keep his hands off you.

"Maus," he husks, fingers twitching as he reaches for you slowly, cautiously, offering you the chance to go with him willingly.

"You don't know what you're doing to me."

Even without the veil, his eyes are dark, a blackness settling over them that, somewhere in your mind, your intuition, has you seeing red.

Regardless of how innocent your intent when acquiring the mask, none of that matters now.

All that does is the growing bulge in König's pants, the shortness of his breath, and his shadow settling over you as he advances on your path.

"You'll be needing that mask more than I will after I'm done with you."

And when you dare to ask "Why ?" now entrapped – eclipsed – by his frame, he just smiles, thin and sharp. Cruel.

He takes you in his arms, pulling you to him, your face almost crushed into his chest.

He laughs. A low rumble – the promise of a natural disaster.

His nose is to yours covered by the veil, a condescending gesture of his prowess and your submission. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Because everyone will get a free show to the fallout of an evening you’ve roped yourself into."

As if to prove his point, his hands are at your wrists before you even notice the pressure he's applying there, binding you, pulling you ever closer to him. And in that second, you know you're not leaving your little stunt – the night – unscathed.

Ghost

Hoo boy.

Okay, it's no secret to anyone who knows Ghost – really knows him – that he's suffered a lot of hardship throughout his life, hencewhy he is the way he is.

Which others may construe as cold, heartless – even soulless.

But that's only because Simon has lost so much.

So when he comes home to find you in one of his masks, smiling up at him (he can tell by the way your eyes crinkle), he's immediately whipped.

And I mean W H I P P E D.

To see the one person he can truly call his own wearing his gear is something he didn't know he needed until now.

Sure, he's seen you in his shirts, but this felt different. More intimate.

Your face was where his usually was, his spectral imprint practically morphed with the contours of your face.

Though it needn't be mentioned, he has a hard time... containing himself.

"Fuuuck me, Darlin'," he rasps, on you like a sickness as he sits on top of you, pinning you to the sofa by your waist.

"Y'look better in that than I do."

And you smile. Something intentional hidden within.

"Hmm... I doubt that." You can feel Simon's body heat rocketing beneath his clothes.

"You know I can't resist you when you wear it."

And that's all it takes to send him over the edge.

You hear his breath shake as he rolls into you ever so slightly, still restraining his whole weight to keep you intact. Something began to prod your abdomen.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he tells you. There is not a single hint of fallacy to his claim or his expression – one of barely stoic restraint.

"You won't be able to do much of anything by the time I'm through with you."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ♡

I just want to steal this man's clothes. I just know he has the warmest, softest jumpers.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Simon comes home to you wearing his jumper.

word count: 820

note: This is pretty self-indulgent, but since it's just a drabble I let myself have it. No gendering terms are used for the reader, but I would say that they are somewhat fem coded. The reader is wearing Simon's jumper which is described as being oversized on them, and Simon picks up and carries the reader.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you enter the living room of your and Simon’s flat, the cool air nipping at your skin. As you shuffle around the room, your eyes fall upon one of Simon’s jumpers hanging on the back of a chair. It’s soft and cosy, just the thing you need to ward off the cold. Without a second thought, you pick it up from the chair before slipping it on, relishing in the way it engulfs your frame.  

The jumper is much too big for you, the sleeves extending far past your fingertips and the hem grazing your mid-thigh. But you love it. You love how it makes you feel small and protected, cocooned in Simon’s embrace even when he’s not around. It is as if you are wearing a piece of him, and it brings a smile to your face.

Inhaling deeply, you catch a whiff of his cologne clinging to the fabric. It’s a comforting scent, fresh and earthy, one that instantly transports you back to the moments you’ve spent wrapped in his strong arms. It lingers around you, comforting and familiar, as you settle down on the sofa.

You sink into the soft cushions, your body relaxing against the plush fabric. The jumper’s oversized nature envelopes you, making you feel safe and secure. The warmth seeps into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a tired, content sigh as you close your eyes, surrendering to the cosiness, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber. 

· · · · · 

As Simon opens the door to the flat, a familiar sense of comfort washes over him. As he toes off his boots, the scent of home greets him, a familiar blend of your favourite scented candle and the fresh flowers you always insist on having. The sweet aroma filling the air, instantly putting him at ease. 

The familiar creak of the wooden floorboards under his feet echoes through the hallway, a sound that signifies he is truly home as he makes his way towards the living room. His heart swells with affection as he sees you lying there, fast asleep, wearing his jumper.

He can’t help but smile at the sight. You look so peaceful, curled up on the cushion, radiating warmth and comfort. The jumper, far too big on you, engulfing your figure, making you look even more adorable.

Simon’s steps are careful as he approaches, not wanting to disturb your peaceful rest. He crouches down beside the sofa, his eyes tracing the contours of your face.

Admiring the way you look in his jumper, Simon feels a surge of love and affection. It’s in these simple moments that he realises how lucky he is to have you in his life. You bring him a sense of comfort and joy that he never thought possible.

As you stir in your sleep, Simon leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead. You smile, sensing his presence, even in your dreams. With a content sigh, you snuggle deeper into the jumper, feeling the warmth and love it represents.

Simon’s heart swells with tenderness as he watches you sleep peacefully. The sight of you curled up, vulnerable and content, fills him with a deep sense of affection. Gently, he scoops you up in his strong arms, careful not to disturb your slumber as he carries you towards the bedroom. 

With each step, he feels a surge of protectiveness, a desire to keep you safe and secure. The softness of your skin against his arms, the warmth emanating from your body, it all fuels his determination to care for you.

As he enters the bedroom, he lays you gently on the soft bed, tucking you in with the utmost care. He adjusts the covers, making sure you’re snug and comfortable. 

He takes a moment to admire you, his heart overflowing with love. He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. The way you trust him, the way you bring him peace and happiness, it’s a gift he cherishes every day.

Simon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He whispers words of affection, knowing you won’t hear them but wanting to express his love nonetheless. 

Simon knows that this is a moment he will remember, one he’ll think back on fondly when he’s on deployment and misses you. The image of you curled up in his jumper, etched into his mind. He knows that no matter where life takes you, these small moments of care and tenderness will always be the foundation of your love.

In the quiet of the night, Simon finds solace in knowing that he can be there for you, just as you have always been there for him. And as he lays next to you, drifting off to sleep, he dreams of a future filled with more stolen moments, shared laughter, and the warmth of your love.

[moldycigarette]

warnings: 🪦🕊️ DNE, angst, implied assault towards reader, use of y/n, afab, protective simon, talk of torture, talk of blood, fluff at the end, i’m sincerely sorry

—————

being married to simon has both perks and downsides. don’t get me wrong, simon is the exact opposite of “ghost” when he’s not at work and makes sure it stays that way, especially around you. he’s nurturing, funny, kind, loving, loyal, and puts you before himself even when you tell him not to.

sure, he can be a stubborn bastard sometimes but he knows how to make it up to you.

in the beginning of your relationship, it was difficult for him to open up, and understandably so given his past. he was cold and distant, sometimes to the point where you questioned if he even wanted to be with you. however, he made up for it. he became more relaxed with you, starting to accept more than just the occasional kiss on the cheek. he was hopelessly devoted to you and proved that to you every day, even if he wasn’t home. whether it was sending you cute texts or small gifts, you knew it was going to be okay as long as you had him.

so, as a loving wife expecting her husband to come home after months in dangerous situations, you expect simon to come home and greet you like he always does; soft kisses and tenderness that can only be shared between the two of you.

when you hear a knock on the door, you immediately jump up, ready to finally feel simon’s embrace. but, when you open the door, your stomach drops.

a large man in a hoodie and black balaclava, one you knew wasn’t simon’s, stands in front of you holding a gun to the center of your forehead. you freeze, not knowing whether to defend yourself or run.

“do as i say and put the bag over your head.” he grumbles. you comply, not wanting to make the situation worse.

everything goes dark after feeling a sharp knock to your head.

—————

you’re eyes slowly open, scanning the room with fear. you try to stand, only to find your arms and ankles tied to a metal chair.

the room is plain, only filled with you, a small overhead light, security cameras in each corner, and a bolted door directly across from you.

your head is aching, bruises surely littering across your face. where the hell are you? one moment, you’re waiting for your husband to come home and the next you wake up in a cold, dark room.

what time is it? has simon come home yet, only to find glass smashed and the door broken down with you nowhere in sight?

suddenly, the door opens with a loud creak echoing across the room. a man steps forward, his hands in his pockets with a gun sitting along his hip.

is this it? is this how you’re going to die?

“y/n riley.”

no. no no no, how does he know your name? what does he-

“you’re quite a pretty thing, ain’t ya’? ‘s a shame you married a bum like ghost,” he whispers, hand brushing your cheek.

you flinch away, glaring up at him with both anger and fear. “what do you want?” you ask.

the man chuckles, his monstrous laugh spreading like wildfire. “i want to know where the files are.”

what? what files?

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you spat.

“wow, for a girl so beautiful you sure have a bratty attitude. that’s gonna have to change.”

he brings his hand back, slapping you hard across your face while tears threaten to fall.

“i’m not telling you shit!”

a hand grasps around your throat, squeezing like a lemon on a hot summer day. you reach to claw his hands away but are met with rug burns on your wrists.

“if you keep this up, we’ll do a lot more than slap you” he says. when he finally let’s go of your throat after what feels like hours, you gasp and cough.

he begins to walk away, making some kind of signal to the guards surrounding the door. suddenly, a table of medical tool sits next to you.

fuck.

“no, no no no please i-” another slap stings your face before you can finish your sentence, the burning sensation spreading across your cheek.

a man picks up a scalpel in his gloved hand, holding your hand down with the other. “either tell us where the files are, or you’ll be cut into tiny pieces. your choice, doll,” a sinister smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you.

“please, i’m begging you! i don’t know what yo-” the scalpel swipes across your wrist in one swift motion, causing blood to seep onto the concrete floor. you scream, pain spreading to your chest as you feel a heavy weight on your throat.

the other guard wraps a metal wire around your neck, cutting into the soft flesh just enough to torture, but not kill.

you can’t breathe, sharp blades cutting along your body. punches land to your face, stinging sensations surrounding you until all you see is black.

—————

it’s been at least two days. you’ve become numb from the pain, burns littering your tired body from boiling water and a black eye that causes you unable to see.

where is simon?

he’ll come soon, right? he has to, there’s no way he could live without you in his life… right?

your mind flashes back to your wedding day, happy tears pouring from both of your faces while listening to the others vows. he promised to take care of you and protect you, no matter the cost.

so where is he?

your broken ribs ache with a growling stomach. you couldn’t deal with this anymore, when will it stop?

when will the men forcing themselves onto you and the burning stop? when will simon find you?

your head hangs low before shooting up from the sounds of gunshots. no, no no. they’re going to kill you.

the door slams open as you sob, salty tears stinging along your battered body.

“oh god, sweetheart.”

a familiar low voice rings across the room, bringing attention to your ears and causing you to shoot your head up. your sobs increase as you watch your husband run towards you before cradling your face in his hands.

“i’m sorry love, i’m so sorry,” he whispered.

gunshots continued ringing in the halls, screams filling your head. simon begins untying the ropes while speaking in quick bursts. you see tears flood his eyes as he looks at your body, naked, bruised, and scarred.

you jump into his arms, ignoring the pain you feel. you finally had simon, and that’s all you wanted.

you could care less about the snot and tears spreading across his tactical vest, he can always find another one.

“ghost! halls’ clear, helicopter landing in 5!” you hear a scottish voice speak over his radio.

everyone is here. everyone you care about is here to save you.

simon takes off his vest and shirt before putting it around you to cover you up, a spare pair of pants in the small bag behind him. he picks you up, hands under your knees and along your back. “‘s okay, sweetheart, i got ya’,” he whispers.

you grab tightly around his neck, fearing this is all a dream and he’ll fade away in a single moment. he runs towards an entrance as you hear a chopper sink onto a landing strip. blinding light burns your eyes from not seeing anything but unsettling darkness for god knows how long.

all you can cry is your husbands name before your head gets fuzzy and everything fades away.

—————

ok so i won’t lie i cried multiple times while writing this. it’s based off of a true story that happened to me when i was sold into a trafficking ring for three years and i thought channeling it into writing could be beneficial.

if you’re struggling in any way, just know that you matter and i’m always here for you. my messages and inbox are always open.

☻ jude