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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 8 months

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So This Is Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fake death, some fluff towards the end, inaccurate gun language (please be responsible when it comes to fire arms), dad jokes, smut mdni (18+), praise kink, some shower sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimluation, unprotected sex, creampie, make up sex?

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: Simon is having a bad day...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 8 of The Roommate Series

“…I’m always here for you.”

The words replayed in his mind as often as most things in his life did. He wasn’t sure there was a point in his life where everything was quiet inside of him and he was sure that it would rip him to shreds if things calmed down within him. He thrived in the chaos, it was what kept him alive for so long despite the odds being put against him since he started his career, it’s what gave him the reputation he had currently.

Ghost. He lived up to the name in more ways than one, becoming a highly skilled soldier that seemed to be practically invincible when it came to a mission turned south. A silent, cold killer who made enemies and allies alike nervous of him when they heard his name being said. A persona with the face of the dead, an omen, a reminder, of what’s to come when he appears.

Ghost couldn’t help but like the reputation he had created for himself. He liked the way the recruits would straighten up at the sight of him for fear that he’ll lash out when his mind is a far different place. He likes when he sees someone get uncomfortable when they catch him staring at them as if he could read their minds.

In a sick and sadistic way he liked the fear in the eyes of his enemies when he came face to face with them, when they realize that they're in his sight and they’re not going to make it.

His reputation was the only thing that kept him safe.

The smell of iron and gunpowder filled his nose as he swept through the building of his current mission. He had a rifle in his hands tightly, eyes trained in front of him as he listened to the garbled mess of words that came through the comms. Behind him was a team, not the 141 but he was used to being put on missions with other sergeants or recruits he had never worked with before.

He gives out commands stern and straight to the point. He makes them clear, with no room for miscommunication because he’d rather not lose anyone due to his leadership skills.

The team sweeps through the building, splitting up into the rooms as gunfire fills the air. Ghost continued down the long hallway, executing any enemy that peeked out of the rooms on either side with an efficiency of that of a machine. He barely spared them a passing glance after their bodies fell on the ground, painting the cold concrete floors with dark red blood.

It was just another mission, a routine, another time for him to fall back into the persona and to forget about the man who died so many years ago.

Before long he was by himself. He gave the order to the rest of the team to clear out the remaining parts of the building behind him as he continued forward to find the best vantage point for setting up his sniping position. The sound of gunfire slowly disappeared behind him, becoming just white noise, static like a TV in his ears as he came to the end of the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs.

He kept his gun at the ready as he took careful steps up the stairs. His mind was set on the mission, your voice had slowly been drowned out by the noise until he found the time to be by himself again.

Ghost made it to the top of the stairs and felt a chill run down his spine. Nothing was out of the ordinary for a building like this; concrete walls devoid of life and barely any light inside. The air was stuffier than downstairs and felt more compact, as if he had walked inside of a padded room.

His heart began to beat faster and he gripped his gun tighter as he felt that all too familiar suffocating feeling. The darkness didn’t help his mind as he remembered that coffin, his resting place, the one that still held his body and mind, and he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in his throat as he suddenly felt pressure against his chest. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he kept his eyes wide as he scanned the empty hallway lined with lookalike doors.

The lack of sound around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he inched further down. The pit in his stomach grew larger and larger to the point where he was sure he might be sick. No matter how much he wanted to back down and turn away he didn’t, despite the sirens blaring in his mind.

Ghost heard a noise and stopped.

It was faint sobbing, for a moment he thought that maybe he had just imagined it, but the longer he stood there in complete stillness and listened past his heartbeat, he could hear it. He tried to think if the briefing about the mission mentioned hostages but he couldn’t remember anything about it.

He swallowed hard as he listened to the person cry, his chest constricting tightly as the sound rang in his ears. It sounded familiar, like the made up sounds his mind had created when he thought about his family. The terror in the person's voice sounded like how he thought his mother had cried for mercy before she was murdered.

He felt sick to his stomach and he started to shake, the urge to walk away strong but the urge to save whoever was in danger stronger.

The closer he got, the clearer the voice became as he listened to the begging, the pleading for mercy. Whoever it was could hardly speak through their sobs as they begged and begged to be let go.

Simon’s blood ran cold. His feet took him forward in a sprint, unable to think of anything else as he listened to your sobs grow louder, your begging grow louder.

He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Simon slammed open the door with his shoulder, gun at the ready before he heard a gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the faceless man in front of him with quick precision before he searched around the room for you.

His entire world shattered when he saw you laying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around you.

Simon screamed your name and threw his gun to the floor. The moment he made it to you, he pressed his hands firmly on your stomach as blood gushed through his fingers.

His hands shook, his entire body shook. Panic surged through him as he listened to you cry, unable to take his eyes off your face, your beautiful face that was littered with bruises, gashes and blood that seeped out of your mouth. The sight burned into his skull and he felt like throwing up as his stomach vanished to his feet.

You sobbed, a choked scream escaping your throat as you tried to pull his hands off you in a fit of blinding hot pain. You ripped at his sleeves as tears ran down your face, a look of pure fear in your eyes as you stared up at him like he was your saving grace.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.” He felt light headed. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“They…came-”

He shushed you, his eyes frantic as he placed your hands on the wound to try to stop your blood from pooling underneath you as he fumbled to get his medpack. He barked an order medevac into his comms but all he received was static. He cursed loudly to himself as he found that as his breathing picked up he felt suffocated by the cold air.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Simon tried to pick you up but you resisted. You shook your head, writhing in pain as you cried and gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. The fleeting fear, the instinctual panic that flowed through someone when they knew this was their last moment. The desperation for the pain to stop and for someone to save them.

He couldn’t lose you not after everything, not like this, not in the cold building full of hostiles far away from your home. A place for violence and fear, somewhere where you didn’t belong in the slightest.

You’d been ripped from your home, you were brought here. You deserve to go back, to be safe, to be alive and uninjured. This was his life not yours, this was his fate, the one that he waited for every day yet it never came.

You shouldn’t be the one covered in blood, it should be him.

“Simon-” Your voice was weak as you clutched his vest when he tried to pick you up again.

You shrieked in pain and against his better judgment he stopped. He couldn’t hurt you more than you already were, he couldn't make himself listen to your cries even though he knew he needed to get you to a medic.

“I’m here.” He ripped his mask off so you could stare at his face. “M’gonna help you, gonna get you home, yeah sweetheart?”

Simon stared at your lifeless body and dug his fingers into your arm. He shook his head and your name fell from his mouth in a strained whisper. His voice was broken, thick with despair as his vision blurred with tears and he shook you gently.

When you didn’t stir he clutched your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles as he began to rock you back and forth. He hoped it would wake you, that something would bring back the light that was in your eyes just moments ago.

He loved you. That had to mean something, you had to be alive because he loved you.

Right?

“Don’t do this.” He pressed his forehead against yours and hugged you closer to his chest. “Please, please don’t do this. .”

A sob ripped through his throat and he cradled your body. Tears ran down his face, streaking the black paint and melting away anything warm that had ever been Simon Riley. He cried louder than he had in years, the mission far from his mind as he held onto your dead body as it was the only thing keeping him present.

How did he let this happen? Why was it you and not him? How many more times did he have to lose someone he loved?

Simon’s eyes snapped open and in an instant he sat up in the bed. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared wildly through the darkness of the room, dull pain piercing him in his side. His breathing was frantic as he tried to figure out where he was while he searched for his gun in his nightstand.

When he couldn’t feel his nightstand or the gun, his eyes jumped around the room he was in, slowly recognising the items placed about inside and the pictures hung up on the walls. He felt so nauseous when he realized that this was your room that he nearly ran out if it weren’t for the need to see if you were truly gone.

He grabbed the blankets around him and ripped them off the bed in a frenzy.

You had to be here, you had to be alive. He couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else taken from him. He knew this would have to be the last time, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing someone he loved again. There was no way he could forgive himself for putting you in danger, no way that he could live with himself if you had been ripped from him, shot like an animal.

The blankets were thrown to the floor and you were revealed to him.

You laid comfortably with your back towards him. Your shoulders and chest rose with steady breaths as you were deep in sleep, completely unaware of the fact that Simon was staring intensely at you.

Simon blinked a few times, letting more tears roll down his face as he placed a hand on your arm, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin into his palm. He took a shaky breath and moved his fingers to your pulse where he felt your heartbeat.

You were still here, you were still alive.

Instead of relief, he found that the panic set in further as he stared at you and resisted the urge to pull you into his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stood up and grabbed the blankets, laying them back on top of you as he tucked you safely back into bed as if it would keep you safe from the outside world.

He left your room as silently as he could despite his stumbling. For a moment he had no idea where he was going, the layout of the flat unfamiliar to him as he hyperventilated.

He finally managed to find his room and when the door behind him shut, he couldn’t help but let out the pained noises that fought against his tight throat.

The darkness didn’t help and he struggled to find the lamp. He collapsed against his bed, sliding down to the floor as a sob ripped through him. The harder he tried to keep himself quiet, the harder his entire body shook and the faster his breathing became. It was to the point he was sure he’d pass out and he clutched his chest as a deep pain stabbed him there like a knife to the heart.

Tears flowed freely and he was stuck on the floor. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself you were alive, he had seen you himself, he couldn’t get the image of you dying in his arms out of his mind.

He was too slow, he was too dangerous, he got you killed, you couldn’t even defend yourself.

Simon cursed to himself between sobs and heavy breaths. There was nothing else on his mind as he remembered the bloody image of a fate he never wished to see again.

Why was he cursed to a life of torment? To lose the ones he loved? Awake he was tortured by thoughts of you dying and yet he couldn’t escape that even in his sleep. Deep down he knew that getting attached again would end his life but he had been too hopeful. He had been too ready to believe that maybe life would be kind to him for once and that made him a fool.

A fool that would surely get the one he loved more than anything killed.

You woke up to the room being slightly dimmed due to what you assumed was storm clouds outside. For a few moments you shifted further into the sheets, clutching the blankets close to your chest as you felt the dreary morning lull you comfortably back to sleep.

It was a perfect morning to stay in bed for just a few hours longer, something that you weren't opposed to especially if it meant you had someone to snuggle up to.

You searched for Simon behind you and that was when you noticed that his comforting weight around you was gone. You frowned with disappointment and rolled over, cracking your eyes open to see that his side of your bed was empty, and judging by the fact that the sheets were cold where he laid, he had been gone for some time.

It wasn’t entirely odd to you. Simon was an early riser and now that you knew it was because of his career, you couldn’t fault him for sticking with that routine. However, the past few mornings of waking up to his sleepy and warm touch had spoiled you into believing he’d lay in bed with you for a few moments longer.

If it wasn’t too late, you could try to convince him to come back for an hour or so…

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you pushed yourself out of the bed and groggily made your way out of your room. You were prepared to use all of your charm to win him over, even giving him a few well placed kisses that he couldn’t resist.

You smiled to yourself and made your way into the kitchen where you heard him piddling about, feeling giddy about your plot to get him to be lazy for a morning, until you walked into the kitchen.

The smile fell from your face and you stopped in the doorway, your eyebrows knitting together with concern. Simon was already dressed and had completely covered himself head to toe as he cooked breakfast. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by him already being dressed, but what worried you the most was the fact that he was wearing a face mask along with gloves.

Simon always covered up most of himself when he was having a horrible day. It was a habit you had noticed when he refused to let himself out of his room when he would get back from work and one that made your heart ache.

It had been a while since he had done it and you were surprised he was wearing just a face mask and not one of the balaclavas he had.

You’re not sure what had made him suddenly feel the urge to cover himself up and for a moment you debated on whether or not you wanted to ask him if he would like to talk about it.

“Why’re you just standing there?” He asked and you jumped from his sudden gruffness.

“Just admiring the view.” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood but when he didn’t reply or spare you a glance, you bit the inside of your lip. “I’m still waking up.”

“Then eat.”

You frowned, unsure of how to take his more aggressive grumpy attitude. You went to walk up to him to grab a plate and maybe find enough courage to place a soft hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, but he turned away from you abruptly.

Heat washed over you, shame maybe for the fact that he rejected you so quickly, and you watched him set a plate on the table. You didn’t know what else to do other than sit down and eat as Simon sat across from you without looking at you.

The silence was heavy as you began to eat and you watched him carefully, unsure of what happened to make him so cold towards you. You struggled to say something, the words stuck in your throat as Simon glanced at you, your eyes meeting for only a moment before he quickly looked away.

You pushed down the pit in your stomach, ignoring the way the food made your stomach churn and you put on a smile, trying your hardest to maybe get him to feel better.

“Did you already eat?” You hoped that he already had but you knew better, especially with the way he shifted in his seat.

He looked conflicted, as if there was a war inside of himself that raged on silently as he crossed his arms. He still refused to look at you like the very thought of you seeing you made him repulsed which hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. He took a deep breath and you watched his muscles tense before he spoke.

“I want to teach you how to shoot.”

You stopped eating and stared at him with an incredulous look. For a moment you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea because he had to be joking. You shooting a gun? You had never held one before, hell you had never touched the knife he had let alone the handgun in his night stand because you didn’t need to.

You felt nauseous when you realized that he was serious and you pushed your plate away from you as you began to shake your head.

“Simon-“

“When someone attacks you, you should be ready.” He gave you a serious look, one that you had never seen before that nearly cut through you.

You felt small under his gaze and though you weren’t afraid, you weren’t necessarily the most comfortable. You wanted to hide away and get him to stop looking at you. Was this how people at work felt when he looked and talked to them? Was this the Simon who disappeared for months, the one that never spoke to you when he was gone? You weren’t sure but the complete switch made your head spin and you still had no idea what happened to make him so…cold.

“It’s not like someone is out there to get me.” You scoffed and watched his eyes narrow. “It’s extremely rare, you’re talking about what ifs.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in an hour.” He got up and stalked back to his room, leaving you dumbfounded.

All you could do was sit there, mouth agape from the audacity Simon had. You couldn’t quite believe he had just spoken to you that way for the first time in the three years you had known him and after the past few days. Part of you couldn’t help but feel guilt as irritation rose up inside of you because you knew that something was wrong, but you also knew you deserved better than that.

Simon knew you deserved better than that.

You wanted to know what happened to him. He was hurting, that was the only explanation after knowing how sweet and kind he could be to you. For him to turn around and treat you like one of his coworkers it must’ve been bad but you weren’t sure how open he would be to telling you what happened. In fact, he didn’t seem that open to even talking to you at all.

You wanted to help but there was only so much you could do when he wasn’t physically hurt.

You thought about ditching him for the day, going over to a friend’s or anywhere else. It hurt to want to get away from him but you weren’t too keen on shooting a gun, in fact it made you feel queasy just thinking about it.

Simon wouldn’t let you get out even if you tried. If you left, you were sure he would say that you could do it tomorrow instead then. Once he had his mind set on something it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, unable to stomach the food in front of you anymore. Instead you stood up and threw the rest of it away, trying your hardest to not let your bad mood ruin the rest of the day as you rubbed your temple.

It was going to rain today and you needed a jacket.

Dead leaves crunched underneath your shoes as you followed closely behind Simon. The air was thick with the smell of rain and the dark clouds on the horizon didn’t bode well for either of you as you wandered down a beaten path within the secluded woods. You weren’t entirely sure where you were and if it was legal to practice shooting out here but you trusted your roommate enough to not get the both of you arrested.

Neither of you had said that many words to each other since breakfast. You were a little curious as to why he chose the woods instead of a firing range, to which he replied by saying he’d much rather be the one to teach than anyone else.

It was hard to talk to him through his stilted speech and cold demeanor. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak or be spoken to all that much, which worried you as much as it made you upset. He dragged you out here, the least he could do was tell you why and to not be an asshole about it.

You watched him carefully, eyeing the bag he had strapped over his shoulder and felt yourself go sick again. The walk was only making it worse as anticipation settled in your stomach, your nerves fraying at the thought of having to practice shooting a weapon.

Simon stopped abruptly in a small clearing and dropped the bag off his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to you as he dug through it and you struggled to find your voice as you watched him.

A lump formed in your throat when he pulled out the pistol and you instinctively took a step back from him. You kept your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving him an uncertain look when he turned towards you with the gun dwarfed in his hands.

He held the gun out for you to take and gave you an expectant look. When you didn’t move to take it, his eyes softened and he sighed as he stepped closer to you with the gun still held out for you.

“Safety’s on, there’s nothing in it.” He assured you in the soft voice you were used to and you bit your lip. “Just hold it for now.”

You hesitated for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, before you grabbed it. Your eyes widened when you realized how heavy it was and you couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he made it look so easy. You held it awkwardly away from you as if it were a dirty rag and you looked up at Simon for him to do something.

The soft look had disappeared from his eyes and he held you under a scrutinizing gaze that made you frown. Simon grunted and he grabbed your wrist with a cold grip. He moved your hands for you rather roughly and squeezed them tightly against the gun.

“Squeeze it hard and keep your finger off the trigger.” He told you and you did as he said. “Hold it up.”

“Ask me nicer.” You sent him a sharp look but he didn’t look at you as he patted your arm.

“Up.”

You huffed and did as he said, holding it up the best you could without any other kind of practice. You let him stand behind you and put you into the correct standing position, ignoring the way your body grew goosebumps from his touch and instead focused on the bubbling irritation inside of you.

He was nitpicking and if you were experienced perhaps you would’ve understood why but this was the first time you had ever had contact with a real gun and even though it wasn’t loaded you were still nervous to even hold it.

Maybe if he was being nicer you would've been fine with it. You weren’t exactly the type of person to take this kind of talk since you had never been to a bootcamp or ever intended to. In fact, you were far from the right person to ask to shoot a gun and yet he seemed to think you were.

The wind had started to pick up and the darker clouds had moved in above you. The rain couldn’t come quick enough and you ended up ignoring whatever Simon was saying in order to stare up at the sky.

“Keep your head down and look in the sights before you shoot.” He positioned your head for you and you suppressed an eyeroll.

“Simon there’s no point in this.” You groaned but he ignored you as he walked back towards his bag. “I’m more likely to get myself hurt than someone else hurting me.”

“Not if you pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“If you actually talk to me instead of boss me around maybe I would.”

“If you’d stop complaining I wouldn’t have to boss you around.”

You scoffed with disbelief, giving him an incredulous look as you watched him pull out the magazine to the gun. You shook your head when he turned around to hand it to you and stepped back with a serious look in your eyes.

“I’m not shooting it.” You said firmly, metaphorically putting your foot down on the matter.

Simon tense up and stared down at you with dark eyes. He gripped the magazine firmly in his hand as he breathed just a bit faster. You watched as a look of desperation flashed in his eyes before he held the magazine out for you again.

“You are.” He said, his voice full of enough authority to make your mouth dry “Now take it.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers so stop treating me like one!” You snapped, your voice echoing slightly off the trees.

Thunder rolled above you and you felt a few drops of rain hit your head as you glared at him. You glared at Simon, shaking with anger as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You had spent nearly the entire day being scrutinized, spoken down to, and disregarded. You had half the mind to walk away from him and leave him if it weren’t for the fact that he had the keys to the car.

You were frozen with anger, unable to move as you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. You were done with this, done with him treating you this way. There was no way you were going to let him get away with this any longer and if he wanted to even think about sleeping in the same bed as you tonight he had better apologize.

“You need to learn this.” He demanded with a glare of his own as if he couldn’t believe you fed up with him. “You have to protect yourself.”

“From who? Who’s coming after me, Simon?” You demanded but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who, just shoot the bloody gun!”

You tossed the empty gun on the ground in defiance and balled your fists. You tried your hardest to stop yourself from shaking but you failed miserably.

“Simon, you’re having a bad day and I will never fault you for that but there is no reason for you to take it out on me.” You began, keeping your voice as level as possible. “You’re acting like a dick and I won’t let you talk to me this way.”

There was a slight panicked look in his eyes behind the anger as he clenched his jaw.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then tell me!”

Simon tensed up and force. He didn’t say anything and you waited for him to give you some kind of explanation. You saw him open his mouth from behind the mask but nothing came out as his eyes bounced around your face in a frenzy. For a moment you wondered if he was shaking and he clenched his fists tightly before he looked away from you.

He fought with himself, you saw him debate it and you felt more raindrops hit your head.

You waited.

But he was silent.

You shook your head in disbelief as the rain began to pour. The more you watched him tense up and struggle to speak, the more your anger mixed with concern as you watched fear flash in his eyes. You could only guess what was wrong, what had made him so afraid to turn this cold because he refused to tell you.

He didn’t tell you he was in the military before and getting him to tell you that was hard but now he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong for whatever reason. Maybe someone was out to get you, maybe he was trying to make it so you wouldn’t be scared and failed miserably but you didn't know.

Was he scared of what you’d say? That you wouldn’t care even after what happened today? You had no idea and you felt stuck, frustrated that you hadn’t pushed him more earlier, frustrated that he closed himself off from you even though you were so willing to listen.

It made your heart ache and yet you were so hurt.

“What happened?” You were desperate. “Just tell me, let me help you.”

“We’re leaving.” He cleared his throat just loud enough for you to hear him over the rain before he went to pick up the gun.

You clenched your jaw tightly, your stomach dropping and churning into a mess before you made your way back to the car without waiting for him. The cold rain beat against you, soaking through your clothes and seeping into your bones, stealing away the fiery anger while leaving all of the hurt and frustration inside of you.

Tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, causing you to walk faster. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you could hide in the car, not when it was the only way for you to get back to the apartment, not when Simon had to be in there with you.

You were thankful the doors were unlocked when you finally reached the car and you all but slammed the passenger side door as you jumped inside.

The sound of heaving rain hit the car and filled up the silence. You crossed your arms over you as you shivered slightly and felt rain water drip off your clothes onto the seat and floor below you. You fought against letting the tears and you kept yours glued to your wet shoes when you heard the trunk of the car open.

You couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard you tried to. There was no reason for any of this to happen, you had never felt unsafe since you moved in with him and yet he seemed to believe you were a walking target. He had told you he worked around dangerous people, that his line of work was dangerous, but he never told you anything else.

Did he truly think he was that dangerous? That you had to be extra careful and learn how to protect yourself because of him? You could’ve reassured him better since it was clear he was anxious about the topic, but he had been so closed off since the moment you spoke with him this morning. For a moment you couldn’t come up with a reason why he had put up a wall between the two of you until you remembered what he said the night he came back.

“You wouldn’t be safe around me.”

Your eyes widened and you watched him from the rearview mirror through tears.

Simon was trying to push you away. It was obvious but the reasoning behind it made it worse to come to terms with and you couldn’t help the few tears that rolled down your face as you bit back a sob.

He was pushing you away because he truly believed he was a danger to your safety. He was trying to make it easier for you to leave him because of that, you were sure of it, but the thought made your chest hurt and it had never crossed your mind.

Was he going to if you didn’t? A sob escaped you and you placed a hand over your mouth as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Selfish.

It was harsh but that was the only thing you could think to call him inside your head as you shook in your seat. He was trying to make a decision for you and it made everything come crashing down harder, it made everything hurt worse as you thought about him leaving you over the false idea that he would eventually end up putting you in danger.

The driver side door opened and turned your head to look out the window. You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away as the door shut, blocking out the rain once more, leaving you both in silence.

You couldn’t let him get away with it. You couldn’t let him leave, not when you loved him as much as you did.

“I meant it.” Your voice was shaky from trying to force the tears away as you refused to look at him, knowing you’d cry even more. “I’m here for you.”

Simon stayed quiet for a long time. You could hear his strained and heavy breathing from behind the mask, as if someone was choking him. His hands were in his lap as he balled them up into fists while he glared out the window at the rain that pelted off the windshield.

“I know.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the tears away. You swallowed hard and gathered the courage to look at him so you could change his mind, so you could break down his walls again.

You were surprised to see that he was already looking at you, dark eyes full of hurt and guilt that deepened when he saw the tear streaks on your cheeks. He clenched his fists tighter and he flinched as if he was going to touch you but stopped himself.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

You groaned and wiped more tears away as you shook your head. Stubborn, always so stubborn and you wished he could see how much you loved him despite that.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's for me to be with you, through all of it.”

Simon stared at you and for a moment you wondered if he was going to speak. He slipped off his mask and you watched him open his mouth as uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked stuck, as if the words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth before he looked away from you and started the car.

Your face scrunched up and your lip quivered. You turned your entire body away from him and sniffled, trying your best to hold in any sounds while tears flowed freely down your face. You hugged yourself and instead watched the raindrops hit your window as everything became blurry.

The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet, with the occasional sniffles and shaky breaths from you as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. You didn’t dare to look over at him and you knew that he wouldn’t say a word regardless if you did or not.

It was as if there was a wall between you both, built by you being hurt and Simon choosing to not trust you enough to let you back in. He was determined to keep you out, to push you away in the name of keeping you safe from his burdens when you’d gladly carry them with him.

You were out of the car before it even stopped and you didn’t wait for Simon to follow. You were past caring about how soaked you were and how when you opened the front door you were most likely tracking mud in as well, all you wanted to do was be alone.

You rushed to the bathroom and nearly slammed the door, unable to keep the storm of tears that welled up as a new wave of emotions hit you now that you were in the safety of your apartment. A broken sob left your chest as you placed your hands over your face and crumpled to the floor, trying your hardest to keep your voice down but failing miserably to do so.

The floor was cold and it didn’t help that you were drenched but you couldn’t move from your spot right against the door. All you could do was hug your knees close to your chest and sob into them with the knowledge that Simon was most likely in the hallway listening to you the entire time.

You’re not sure how long you cried for. All of the emotions slowly fell out of you along with the tears and soon you were left sniffling, rubbing your nose and eyes raw as your breathing went back to normal. Enough time had passed that you weren’t dripping water onto the floor anymore but not enough to where the storm hadn’t stopped.

It took you a while to push yourself off the floor and when you did, you went straight for the shower.

You didn’t waste any time throwing your clothes on the floor, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that they were off your skin, and turned the shower on. As soon as it was hot enough, you hopped in and let the water soothe your skin. You didn’t move to wash your body or your hair, all you did was stand there with absolutely no thoughts in your mind as you were too exhausted to even think.

That was until you heard a knock on the door.

For a split second you thought about ignoring him, but your heart ached at the thought and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

No matter how mad you were, how hurt you were, you couldn’t push him away.

“Simon?” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain when he stepped inside. You watched him shut the door and his eyes widened when he saw that you were staring at him insteading of showering.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence not as tense as it was before as he stared at you with guilt and regret. You waited for him to speak as he held his hands awkwardly by his side before he glanced away from you.

“I’m…” He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Can I join you?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod.

Maybe you should’ve, maybe you were being too lenient towards him after how he hurt your feelings but you didn’t want to fight. You were far past your anger, you just wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted to comfort him and you wanted to work out whatever the both of you were feeling despite how you felt.

And you hoped that he felt the same.

You hid back behind the curtain once he started to get undressed. Your heart rate picked up as you realized that he was getting in the shower with you, that he was going to see you in your most vulnerable state you could be in. You almost scolded yourself. This wasn’t the time to act shy about him seeing you naked for the first time and yet you couldn’t make yourself turn around when you heard him step in behind you.

He stood awkwardly behind you and you stepped out of the way so some of the water would hit him. His knuckles gently brushed against your spine and you shivered before you stepped back towards him, craving more from his touch, more from him.

Simon hesitated to rest his hands on your hips, the warmth from his palms radiating onto your skin and causing goosebumps to form as you drew in a sharp breath while you felt your stomach flip.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded.

You waited for him to pull you back into him or for him to move closer but he never did. Instead, you felt his forehead softly connect with the back of yours as his hands held onto your hips so gently you wondered if maybe he was even touching you.

His warm breath against the nape of your neck made you shiver again and for a few moments you both didn’t say a word to each other.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke between shaky breaths.

Your mind and emotions betrayed you as tears welled up in your eyes again. You took a shaky breath as you tried to blink them away. Those hurt feelings popped back up and gnawed against your chest but you also felt relief from his words.

He was being genuine. He was always genuine and you couldn’t mistake the guilt in his voice for anything else, especially as he swallowed hard. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he looked like; the pain in his beautiful dark brown eyes that was sure to stick there any time he looked at you, the crease in his brow that would never cease to exist, and the frown that was plastered on his face.

“You can’t push me away and expect me to be okay with it.” You said softly as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know.” He mumbled but you shook your head.

Did he know? Did he know that you were there for him no matter what? That you wanted him when he locked himself away in his room after coming home from wherever he went, or when he came home bleeding to death, or when he was anything but happy?

You weren’t sure if he did, if he truly knew just how much you loved him.

You pulled his hands off your hips as you turned around to face him, your heart breaking when you saw his bloodshot eyes and the deep regret within them. He looked exhausted, more than you had realized after seeing him all day today and you wondered if maybe he had slept last night.

When you cupped his cheek he flinched away from your touch for a split second. His eyes narrowed and you watched as more pain flashed through them when he leaned into your palm. He placed a hand on your hip again, gently digging his fingers into your flesh as your thumb traced the scar close to his eye as if the very touch of comfort made him tense.

You could tell he was resisting it without pulling away from you. He wasn’t able to hide the conflict in his eyes and it made you nearly sob.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You wondered, desperate to understand why he could give so much without accepting what you wanted to give.

Simon swallowed hard and for a moment it looked like he was going to run away. You saw the same panicked look in his eyes he had from before and you held his face with both of your hands.

He shut his eyes tight as he was trying to hide his from you and placed his hands on top of yours. He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his jaw tight before he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks and you shook your head. How awful it was to have a mind tell lies like that, you couldn’t believe that he would think you’d find him unworthy of your support, of your love, that he’d thought you would see him that way.

“No.” Your voice cracked and he opened his eyes to look at you. “You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Simon stared at you with uncertainty, his eyes searching deep within yours as if he were looking for the lie when you were being as truthful as you could ever be. He blinked and a tear escaped down his face before you quickly wiped it away, watching as his shoulders sagged before he leaned fully into you.

You locked him into a tender kiss that he hesitated to reciprocate until you made it clear you weren’t pulling away any time soon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your waist, deepening the kiss as he desperately moved his lips against your own as if you’d disappear right in front of him.

His fingers dug into your skin and you gasped as he caged you to the shower wall. He moved his hands up and down your body, purposefully avoiding any of the places that burned for him as his calluses scratched your skin.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. He was out of breath as he gave you a desperate look, a final plea for reassurance.

“Forgive me.”

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“Promise.”

Simon pressed another kiss to your lips slower but no less desperate as he cupped your jaw with his large hand. He stole your breath away and pressed his body against yours, rubbing his half hard cock against your inner thigh.

You gasped when you felt it and opened your legs for him to step as close as he could. Breathy moans escaped your mouth when he peppered kisses from your lips to your jaw and you gripped the back of his neck as he began to suck just underneath your ear.

He rolled his hips into yours and you whined when the length of his cock ran across your slit, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. He grunted and did it again, slowly dragging his cock back and forth to gather your slick across it while he attacked the sweet spots on your neck.

His movements and the steam from the shower made you dizzy. You clung onto him as pleasure built up inside you and you kept him as close to you as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you, to be inside of you.

“Feel so good…” He breathed out as he nipped your flesh and ran his tongue over the spot when you whined.

Simon trailed hot, open kisses from your neck down to your chest. He was slow as he placed them across your skin, giving every part of your breasts attention while he massaged them. There wasn’t a spot that he didn’t pass over without giving you a kiss that burned into your skin, branding you with the heat of his affection as he continued to move further down.

He kissed your stomach, his hands running across your waist and down past your hips as he mapped out every part of your body that made you perfect.

Heat washed over you as he kneeled in front of you. You shivered under his touch as he ran his hands down your legs, he pressed soft kisses across your thighs while he rubbed his cheek against your skin.

He looked up at you, dark eyes full of desire and adoration as water ran down his muscles. Deep within his eyes there was a heated need, something only you could satiate as he made himself comfortable on the shower floor. He hummed as he laid a leg over his shoulder, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze as he moved closer to you exposed cunt which ached painfully for him. However, he didn’t move any close as he placed slower kisses to your inner thighs, sucking small marks on them as you sighed with content.

“You’re beautiful.” His warm breath against your cunt made you whimper.

“Simon…” You were breathless as he continued to kiss your thighs. “Please.”

Simon swiped his tongue across your slit and you choked out a moan. He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shock waves up your spine as you watched his eyes flutter shut once he started to eat you out.

He lapped at you like a man starved, desperate to get more of you as the taste of you drove him over the edge. He stuffed his face into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as he dove his tongue inside of you like you were his last meal. His hands gripped your legs tightly, keeping you in place as you writhed against his mouth while loud moans escaped you.

The shower barely hid any of the wet noises that came from your cunt as he pressed you against the wall. He groaned into you as well and barely opened his eyes to stare at you while he sucked on your clit.

“Fuck…” You moaned and threw your head back, your hand falling into his wet hair.

Pleasure was building up inside of you quickly. You gripped his blonde locks as you stared into his hazy eyes as he sucked and licked your cunt until you were dripping into his mouth. You couldn’t find any words to say as his eyes burned into yours before the band snapped.

You came and your head lulled back. Your body twitched and your legs shook as you struggled to keep your footing, Simon having to hold you up instead so you wouldn’t fall.

Simon leaned back as you came down from your orgasm, watching as your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, face covered in your arousal before he dove back in between your legs.

“W-Wait!” You gasped as you were still feeling aftershocks.

“You can take it.” He grunted into you. “Wanna taste you.”

He held onto you possessively, as if you had a chance to run away from him, while he unraveled you from the seams. He massaged his fingers into your plump flesh, squeezing and grabbing you anywhere he could while his grunts were muffled.

You moaned writhed under his hold. Pain from the overstimulation soon turned into blinding pleasure that had you holding onto his hair for dear life in an attempt to ground yourself.

“So good, fuck you’re so good, Simon.” You babbled out, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.

Simon moaned and he sucked on your clit harder, causing you to throw your head back. His movements became more precise and he quickened his movements while making sure to watch your every move. You didn’t miss the way the desperate look came back into his eyes at the praise, almost as if he was addicted to it just as much as he was to your taste.

He slid a finger inside of you and a choked moan escaped your throat. He moved it at a steady pace, curling it up to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars while he continued to suck on your clit.

The next orgasm came quickly and hard. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went out as your body jerked from the intense pleasure that made your toes curl. You moaned and squirmed, unable to catch your breath as Simon continued to finger and eat you out.

You tried to move your hips away from him, if only just for a second of relief as but he wouldn’t let you leave. Tears blurred your vision and you grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him away while also digging your fingernails into his skin in order to keep him where he was.

You were stuck on cloud nine with blinding pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body was so hot and you felt your third orgasm approaching rapidly, suddenly the world disappeared and all you could feel was Simon.

When your walls clenched around his fingers once more and he sent you over the edge, you shook violently as not a sound escaped you.

Your body went limp and if Simon wasn’t there, kissing your heated skin as he slid his fingers out of you, you would’ve fallen to the shower floor with him. It took you a moment to open your eyes as the pleasure left your exhausted body as he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

He moved your leg off his shoulder and he held you up as he stood, supporting your weight against him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then to your temple. He peppered more around your face until he kissed you on the lips and held you close to his chest.

You moaned when you tasted yourself from his tongue and he turned off the shower, causing you to open your eyes in a daze.

“Don’t want you to fall on your arse.” He teased and you lazily smiled. “Can you make it to the bedroom?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the daze of the intense pleasure slowly leaving your body and saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

You leaned forward and sloppily kissed his chest, listening to him sigh deeply before he hugged you.

A deep hum resonated from him as you kissed some of his scars, letting your hand cup his jaw as you moved to place a few kisses on his neck. You sucked on the spot that you knew made him fall apart and felt him melt in your touch, he picked you up and stepped out of the shower.

Neither of you cared about trailing water out of the bathroom as he carried you to his room. Your eyes never left one another, even as he gently placed you on his mattress as if you were made of glass despite the fact he had just devoured you moments before.

Simon climbed over top of you and he stared at you as if you were divine, like you were the one who had hung the stars in the sky and dictated when the sun would rise and fall. He brushed his fingertips across your cheek as he studied your face for the thousandth time, a loving look on his face.

You took his hand and kissed each of his knuckles while you stared at him with a warm chest. You studied the scars on his face and the way the water rolled down from his hair, going along the curve of his nose that you know has been broken many times before.

You were always captivated by his eyes, but now you couldn’t deny the fact that they were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen.

“You’re beautiful.” You repeated back but you meant it with every fiber in your being.

A smile stretched across your face when you saw his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turned red. You giggled and he bit his lip before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, stealing kisses that made you softly sigh and run your fingers through his hair.

“Never felt this way before you.” He admitted and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Is that a bad thing?” You wondered, slightly worried about what he meant until he leaned back enough that you could look into his eyes again.

“No. Never.”

You smiled and he did too. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your stomach as he leaned back down to kiss you on the lips, this time so much slower than the last as you both held each other. Just being in his arms made you feel safe and loved, especially as he left you in a daze from the tender kisses he left on your sore lips.

You squirmed underneath him as the kiss became heated again. You bit his bottom lip with need as you rolled your hips up into his, causing him to stifle a grunt that made you whine.

Simon kissed you a few more times before he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy clit to make you whimper. He rutted against you until you felt him slowly sink inside your achy cunt with a soft groan.

Pain surged through you from the stretch, his large cock almost too big for you and you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Tears pricked your eyes and you whimpered, causing him to stop moving.

“Doing so good, love.” He cooed softly and you moaned at the pet name.

He waited a few moments before he moved again and you let out moan from the pain and the pleasure that coursed through you until he stopped again. He wasn’t even half way in and you already felt so full even after he ate you out. You wondered if you would be able to take all of him as he stretched you out like no one had before.

Simon kissed your neck and behind your ear as he rubbed circles into your hip while you clung onto him, adjusting to his size as you fought the urge to force more of him inside of you when you weren’t ready.

“What did the cucumber say to the pickle?”

“...What?”

“You mean a great dill to me.”

You snorted loudly as you looked at Simon with confusion, unsure of why he decided now of all times to tell you a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stared back at you with a twinkle in his eyes before he pushed himself further into you with ease, cutting off your laugh with a moan.

He bit back a groan as well as your face contorted with pleasure and pain as he bottomed out. Both of you were out of breath even though neither of you moved while you waited for you to adjust to his size.

Once you were adjusted you rolled your hips into his and you both moaned.

Simon started slow as he dragged his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed it back in, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace, quickly losing yourself in the feeling of him all the way in your stomach.

He leaned down and attacked your neck, quickening his pace which caused you to let out breathless moans. His hand traveled up to your breasts where he toyed with your nipples while he other hand grabbed your leg and pushed it up to your chest.

You moaned loudly and tugged on his hair as the new angle let him reach deep inside of you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and locked your lips in a kiss. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, already feeling the pleasure building up within you again. It was only amplified when he pushed you down against the mattress to thrust as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess, any thoughts were gone from your mind as he bullied his cock inside of you without any chance to take a breather.

Simon kissed you anywhere he could. He didn’t spare a single spot, placing kisses on your neck, face and collarbone while he pressed his body against you impossibly close.

He stifled a whine when you ran your hand through his hair and down his neck, dragging your fingernails across his muscles as you held him.

You clenched around him, your walls tightening as he continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you crying out his name. You hooked your legs on his hips, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“No.” Simon grunted when he pushed himself up. He grabbed your jaw and gave you a firm squeeze to make you look at him. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

All you could do was nod as he deepened his thrusts, dragging out a whine from you when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. You writhed underneath him, the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you fast as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“That’s it.” He panted as he grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing it firmly. “Come on my cock.”

Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit you so fiercely you wondered if maybe you looked possessed. You couldn’t see anything as your entire body shook once more, your legs going limp while electricity surged through you. You couldn’t even moan as the air was knocked out of you when Simon quickened his pace.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he came inside you, filling you up and making you full. He lazily thrust himself into a few more times, sending shock waves through the both of you until he finally came to a stop.

Both of you were silent for a few moments as you caught your breath. Neither one of you moved from the other, keeping each other locked in a rather warm and sticky embrace from the sweat that had accumulated on your skin.

Simon still held your hand, his thumb rubbing into your skin while you squeezed it a few times.

After a moment of reprieve, he slowly slid out of you. The drag from his cock made you whimper and you were met with his lips pressing soft kisses to yours, causing your eyes to close.

“Clean you up.” He mumbled and you hummed, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Can you get water too?” You asked sweetly as if he’d say no to you.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head and reluctantly let him go after kissing him a few more times. You laid in his bed for a moment, a slight chill running across your skin as you fought back the urge to roll over and fall asleep in the scent of Simon.

Soon he came back and cleaned you up while you practically chugged the water he gave you. He scoffed and pressed a few chaste kisses on your leg before he tossed the dirty towel on the floor somewhere. Without another word, he climbed into bed with you, tugging you close to his chest before he threw the blankets on top of you both.

Your head rested against his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed his thumb across your hairline. You didn’t say anything as you traced the scars that pepper his skin, smiling to yourself when he would shudder and when goosebumps with form soon after.

Your hand traveled further down and you very carefully ran your finger across the wound in his side, counting the stitches he had. You frowned when you counted at least nine of them and you nuzzled your head further into his chest as you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach.

“I have nightmares almost every night.” Simon whispered suddenly and your eyebrows knitted together. “It’s rare that I sleep.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a deep sadness crawl into your chest as you fought back the urge to tear up at his words. Instead, you continued to trace the scars you saw and took a deep breath.

“Did you have a nightmare that scared you?” You whispered back and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon curled his arms around you protectively. He shook ever so slightly and you pressed comforting kisses to his chest as he stayed silent for a long while. He swallowed hard and his breathing became heavier while you waited patiently for him to continue or for him to tell you he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You died.” He exhaled sharply and you pressed yourself further into him. “I wasn’t there to protect you and you didn’t know how to.”

There was a beat and he let out a shaky breath. You turned your attention to him, looking up into his eyes to see a pain that made your heart shatter. He wasn’t going to tell you the details, but you gathered from the way there were tears in his eyes and from how scared he had been earlier today, that whatever had happened in the dream left him broken.

You rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“I should’ve told you, I just…” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight. “Can’t lose you.”

You shushed him softly and pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly as he sniffled. You ran your hands through his hair as you tried to soothe him, feeling the fear he had held down since this morning ease into the air.

He held you back firmly and took a deep breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m here.” You reassured him and he sighed. “I know you’re scared but I’m safe because of you.”

Simon didn’t say anything as he squeezed you and you stayed quiet, mumbling soft reassurances in his ear.

Even if there was something that had to be done, neither of you were getting out of bed for the rest of the day.

Link to part 9

A/N: the long awaited chapter. Hope you guys like the smut, it was meant to be intimate and passionate but that might've gotten lost in the writing lol. Next one will have less arguments, more fun, but still angst cause unfortunately things can’t always be happy

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #call of duty

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undercoverpena · 9 months

Text

cod ghost x f!reader

warnings: protective ghost, 18+ smut mention (fingering), badass reader, ghost ticking in a corner

CAN YOU IMAGINE someone threatening you. Them spending most of the briefing talking down to you, undermining you. You’re ticking, jaw tightening—yet, you remain the face of professionalism. Because you’ve worked to hard to get here—to be stood at the front of the table.

And Ghost knows that. Stood in the corner. Eyes fixated on the man’s pulse, fist clenched, the sole of his boot pressing into the wall behind him. He’s thankful he’s wearing a mask, it concealing it—the way a vein throbs in his neck, how he’s gritting his teeth, nostrils flared.

Waiting.

For you to snap. To unleash the fury he can feel rippling across the room. It pulsing, mixture of lava and solids as your voice remains level, but your eyes paint a whole other story.

Because he knows them. Intimately. He knows what they look like blown with pleasure from being full of him; he knows what they’re like when they’re fearful, full of worry and panic. Ghost also knows what they look like when you’re ready to pounce, to lash out—to strip skin from bone.

Tick. Tock.

Your pen flies first, thrown in the direction of the arsehole. It’s precise. Thrown as tactically as you do when you throw a knife—

Then you unleash it. Spit it out. What do you want? Four words, simple, unassuming. Your hand sliding around the table as you round it, looking him up and down, shoulders back—looking every bit the most dominant person in the room. And fuck it would make him hard if he wasn’t trying to control the feeling of snapping the man’s neck.

And then he laughs. The man laughs.

Ghost sliding his foot down from the wall, feeling Gaz turn his head in his direction—likely knowing, stitching together all the shreds of information he’s been collecting—Price tilting his head at him from across the room.

But it’s neither of them who halt him in his place.

You do that.

Make him remain glued in place. Telling him with your eyes that you have this. Reminding him that the reason it all began was because you’d not feared him.

And then you show him. Put on a show for the man and every one else in the room, showing them all why you’re leading the meeting. Why Price had you on this. You both verbally undress the man and slice into him so he’ll be feeling it for weeks. Shame flooding the room, tingeing the air—merging with the rage that sparks off you.

And it isn’t until later, when he finally has you alone. Watching you smirk as he boxes you in against the wall. Your fingers peeling the bottom of his mask up to his nose, set to loop your hands around his neck to kiss him, does he tell you how he’s thought about you.

All afternoon, in fact—how you almost made that man (that soldier) piss himself.

“You looked like you were gonna snap his neck, Ghost.”

“I was.”

You grin, rolling your eyes. Trying to tell him that it doesn’t matter—that the man doesn’t matter. But he does. The words rolling on his tongue, forming.

The ones he felt in his bones, full of fire and ice all at once.

He thinks of saying them, spilling them. Trying to explain that he’d have snapped the man’s neck if he was disrespecting anyone, but it’s that he wouldn’t have stopped there because it was you.

Somehow unsure how to explain how deep it is you’ve rooted yourself in him. So he chooses not to say it with words.

Focuses his attention on crashing his lips to yours, undoes your belt with one hand—slides his hand into your trousers and pushes your underwear to the side.

And only when you’re teetering on the edge, fireworks about to explode behind your eyes, does he say anything.

No one disrespects you. Ever.

You pause, eyes fluttering open to stare at him. And then, you’re mouth opens, his name—not Ghost—falling out in a moan. Your fingers digging into his arm, your walls tightening around his fingers.

He’s not sure if it’s his touch, his breath along your ear or his words that make you come.

#ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod ghost x you

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ghostlychief · 3 months

Text

tattooed heart

the one where you ask Ghost about his tattoos

---

You’re lying in bed with your head on Ghost’s chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as you examine his tattooed arm. Your hands hold up his (surprisingly) heavy arm in order to study the designs more effectively. You’ve been asking him the story behind each tattoo for the past half hour, intrigued by what inspired them. And Ghost has answered you thus far, quelling your wonder in the history behind his now full sleeve. Some have more in-depth stories than others, or are more meaningful to him, but he never fails to answer you earnestly, always giving you a good story behind each one.

You can’t exactly explain what prompted you to sit down (rather lay down) with Ghost to get the details and pick his brain about his sleeve. Maybe you secretly just wanted to run your hand up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos while also being able to feel his solid muscles underneath them, and so therefore you needed an excuse. Maybe you just wanted to feel closer to him somehow, anyway you could, and this is what you came up with that night. Whatever the true reason, you will always look back at this memory fondly, as you spend the night together, learning more about each other.

“Mm what about this one?” You’re pointing at the American traditional skull and snake tattoo on his upper bicep. Ghost chuckles lightly at your pondering, finding it cute that you were so invested in the story behind each and every one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s the story behind it?” you ask again. Your fingertip runs gently over the design, tracing the pattern, the action making goosebumps arise on Ghost’s skin. Your soft eyes glance up at him, catching his gaze as well which makes him smile at you. His other arm, that’s not being investigated at the moment, tightens it hold around your shoulders and he lets out a nostalgic sigh before answering you.

“Well to be honest, it was as cover up for another tattoo I got many years ago.”

You let out a hum of understanding before asking, “What was the other tattoo? How bad could it have been for you to get it covered up?”

You and your questions.

Letting out another sigh and with regret coating his voice, he finally answers you. “I lost a dare with my friends and had to get the cliche, heart with ‘mom’ written in it. And obviously that doesn’t really fit the vibe of what I was going for, for my sleeve, so I eventually just got it covered up.” He nonchalantly shrugs after finishing his explanation, subsequently making you shift on his chest.

You prop yourself up a little so you can see him better. “Aww is Simon a mama’s boy?” You have a knowing smile on your lips as you look up at him, and see his eyes roll to heaven and back at your teasing.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re done asking me about my tattoos.” He pulls his arm out of your grasp, although not too roughly, and gently pushes you back onto the bed and rolls on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head propping him up and caging you under him.

“Are you done?�� he asks while lowering himself slightly so he can nudge your nose with his, your lips just a hair’s breadth apart.

You close your eyes at his gesture, already forgetting about your questions, your thoughts quickly consumed by Simon being on top of you, being this close to you. You nudge his nose back and hum, “I think I could be, if you can take my mind off of things.”

You open your eyes then and see Simon smirking down at you. “Say no more.”

---

#Simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley fluff #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost imagine #cod ghost fanfiction #cod ghost fluff

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1-ker0sene-1 · 2 months

Note

i’m the era of disabled!reader, would you write something for reader who has epilepsy? 🥺 can’t find any fics in my chosen fandom with epileptic reader (or oc) and it makes me sad 🥺

{I hope you don't mind me pairing with Simon on this one ♥️ I hope you enjoy! And please if I get anything wrong lemme know! I'm more than willing to come back and edit!}

CW: improper seizure safety (not by you or Simon), epilepsy seizure description

In full honesty, Simon didn't know if he could do it in the beginning of your relationship. He didn't think he could handle your seizures.. Of course now- having been properly educated about it. He would absolutely scold himself for thinking that, you just need a little bit of help sometimes. You aren't a damn charity case and he hates when people treat you like it. You deserve to be comfortable and safe, not pitied and prodded at. Not only is he your partner and best friend, Simon has become your biggest advocate. Of support for your condition, but also your independence.

One of the first things you both sat down and talked about when getting serious, was seizure safety. Simon needed to know how to help, at least as much as he possibly could without hurting you. He also learned throughout this, that not all seizures are the same. Sometimes you're just.. Absent, with a flutter of your eyes or a quiet mumble as your gaze flickers to nowhere. You just seem lost for a couple minutes. Other times it's the seizures everyone thinks of, where you stiffen, twitch and seize, sometimes even falling to the floor. How can he help? He's a little stressed when learning that there's not much he can do but carefully maneuver you into a recovery position, put something under your head, and just be there for you.

Simon won't ever forget your scariest seizure, you two were just shopping. Simple. He left your side for forty-eight seconds. Exactly forty-eight, he remembers. He just went to grab something you forgot in a different aisle. Picking up a box of chicken stock for dinner, he hears the slam of your body hitting the floor. He remembers the feeling of his stomach twisting into knots, dropping the container and making a run back to your aisle when he hears someone call out.

It's not you calling, you're far into the seizing, a citizen found you before Simon did. Now it's not the bastards fault, this stranger didn't know how to help you, so in the panic the man was holding your shoulders down trying to still you. Simons hackles raise, words ripped from the masked mans throat instantly.

"Off her- NOW."

Simon didn't think, he just moved, his big meaty hand grabbed the man by the back of the neck and threw him away from you. He's honestly been nicer to enemy soldiers. He didn't even spare the stranger another glance, falling hard to his knees next to you.

" 'm right here baby.. Right here.."

He rips the balaclava off his head, definitely taking a tuff of hair from his scalp. Not that he would notice right now. Simon carefully lifted your head just to slip it under, the softer fabric better than the hard floor. Stroking your hair away from your face, he doesn't hold you down- but his hands are close to you, resting featherlight on your cheek.

"You're safe doll.. I'm right here.. it'll pass."

He murmurs to you, unsure if you're hearing, but either way he keeps talking you through. Now, his arms gently hook under your leg, being as gentle as he can- his hands position you to your recovery position and on your side. Fishing out his phone quickly, he's already got the timer going. Less than five minutes. Please be less than five minutes.

"I have you sweetheart.."

Simon is right by you, watching your every movement closely. He's shoved away any items, just you and him on the floor.

"Should we call an ambulance?"

A stranger asks, Simon shakes his head. Never taking his eyes off you. You just had to go through it. If it's not a long one you should recover alright.

"I have her. Just stay back and move on-"

He snaps, he's stressed, he knows they're just concerned but he doesn't want anyone fucking with you right now. Simons eyes light up as the seizing calms, under two minutes, you're coming back to him. He finally lets out the massive breath he's been holding in. His thumb caresses your cheek.

"You're alright.. there you are.. you're okay."

Simon curls himself closer to you, stroking your cheek as your eyes slowly start adjusting back. You're foggy, confused, he's holding you a little closer and whispering softly.

"it's Simon, love.. Your Simons right here. You're right here.. we're in the store baby."

Now that you were coming back from it, Simon slips himself behind you as he moves you to lay against his chest. It's a while before you're able to be moved, waiting until you're fully alert again, he's taking it slow carrying you back to the car and getting you home. The rest of the week is spent easing you through the recovery. Low lights, he knows your head is aching. Lots. Absolutely lots of sweet talking. His strong girl.. he calls you. Making sure you take your meds on time and get plenty of rest.

"I'm sorry Si.. I didn't mean to scare you.."

You mumble, in bed together. Simon is sat up against the headboard, holding you close on his lap. His hand strokes locks of your hair, shaking his head sternly.

"Don't be apologizin' for anything. Didn't do a damn thing wrong-"

His hand slips to hold your chin, making you lock eyes with him.

"Hear me? Nothin'. I got you.. I'll always have my girl."

#disabled reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost imagine #cod ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod x reader

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aoioozora · 3 months

Note

THIS IS SO AMAZING OMG (talking about the Simon fanfic btw) YOU JUST EARNED A FOLLOWER ❤️❤️ we'd really appreciate it if you did a part 2? 🥹 Take care

Simon.

Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I was never planning on making this a series but here we go, I guess I'm invested too now >:) thank you for requesting and following! While this series is fluff only, I have a small warning for this part: there's swearing, crude jokes. And possibly incorrect usage of Scottish and English slang. Enjoy :) Photo credit: mus

“It's pishin’ it doon out here.”

Simon looked at his friend and sighed, “English, MacTavish.”

MacTavish groaned. “It's raining fuckin’ hard.”

“Then say so.”

“I did!”

Simon and his friend, John MacTavish or ‘Johnny’, as he was affectionately called, found themselves standing under the shade of a book café, helmets in hands, watching Simon's bike get drenched in the heavy rain. Neither of them expected a downpour, and were caught without raincoats. And so the two had no choice but to wait it out.

“It was yer bloody brilliant idea to go on a road trip when I warned ye that it was gonna rain today,” Johnny griped, crossing his arms as he shook the rain water off his helmet.

Simon didn't say a word. He copied Johnny in getting the water off his helmet, except that he wiped it off with his hand. As he hung his head down to do so, his messy blond hair fell over his eyes, and he shook his head to get it out of the way. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief to dry them, and then pulled his mask down below his nose to inhale a fresh gulp of the cold, wet air. When he had inhaled enough, he pulled the mask back on, and his eyes wandered to his motorcycle, which was surrounded by a foggy haze in the rain.

His mind wandered to that night he saved a young lady off the dangerous streets. He remembered how he saw her from afar, and without a second thought, sped up to her assailants, half-intent on actually flattening them into crepes. He remembered how his engine pounded as adrenaline charged his blood, as he twisted the accelerator to full throttle, sending the vehicle flying.

A pretty lady he thought she was. He didn't know why he called her his girlfriend; his brain decided that being a boyfriend was the second most powerful thing a man could be, the first being a husband. No other men would mess with another man's woman, that was for sure, unless he had a death wish. She acted well too, convincingly even.

He pulled out his phone and turned it around. Nestled beneath the clear casing was a small, clear candy wrapper, the same one that the pretty lady gave him that day. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep it, but did anyway. He definitely wanted something to remind him of her.

He had been in anguish ever since he dropped her off and rode away; he had completely forgotten to ask for her name. But who does that? They were strangers. What are the odds that two strangers would meet again?

“I'm heading inside,” Johnny announced, “I want a coffee.”

“Get me some tea.”

“Fuckin’ Brit.”

Simon was about to correct Johnny by telling him that Scotland, where he was from, was also part of the British isles, but he bit back, not wanting to risk hearing a rant in exclusively colorful, and totally family friendly Scottish words and phrases.

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” Simon rolled his eyes and followed Johnny inside the book cafe.

The two men sat at a table and while Johnny peered into the menu, Simon sank back into the comfortable chair and looked at the yellow bulbs hanging overhead, casting a soft, golden glow on the smooth wooden tables, the floors, and the cutlery. The smell of coffee, cakes, and books filled the air, along with the soft ruffle of pages, clinks of tableware and cups and saucers, and the distinct murmurs of his friend across him as he figured out what coffee he wanted to have.

A waiter came by to take their orders, and the two were soon left to their own, sitting in unusual silence as they stared out the glass windows at the relentlessly pouring rain. While Johnny hummed a tune to himself, Simon, tired of looking at the downpour, decided to amuse himself with people watching.

He saw people working at their laptops, some reading and drinking, others chatting in soft murmurs, and staff doing their job.

His eyes fell on one particular lady who was seated at a table across the cafe, back facing him, busily working on her laptop. He felt his heart stop for a moment. Her silhouette was familiar, particularly her hair; it looked just like her. His heart pounded beneath his ribs.

He didn't realise how long he looked until Johnny's voice piped, “Wit ye lookin’ at?” which interrupted the momentary buzz of his thoughts.

Simon turned to his friend, who was looking at him with mingled curiosity and confusion. “Nothing.” he replied, shaking his head and hanging it down slightly to look away, but his eyes immediately darted to the lady, as if she was a strong magnet.

Johnny wasn't quite convinced, and he followed Simon's line of vision. “A lass,” he observed, smirking.

Simon glared at his friend, but it only made him chuckle. The two watched as she stood up for a moment and turned around, intent on walking to the shelves to grab a book. That's when Simon saw her face, and again, his heart seized.

“It's her.”

His breath lodged tight in his lungs and his body visibly stiffened. And the most unfortunate reaction of them all: his partially exposed cheeks had turned pink. His eyes were glued to her, and he was unaware that Johnny was still keenly observing him.

“Ye ken her?” asked Johnny, his smirk widening.

“You remember I saved a girl the other day?” He asked back.

“That's her?” Johnny whipped his head back again to take another gander at the lady.

She was furiously flipping through the pages of a hardbound book, as if desperately in search of something. Simon rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned his cheek on his fist; he watched with interest as she hunched over the book like a medieval scholar, and wondered what her occupation was. She went back to her seat, hunched over again, and the two men looked back at each other.

“Go talk to her,” Johnny challenged.

“No.”

“Keep bein’ a fuckin’ pussy and ye won't get to fuck that pussy, ye ken?”

Simon snorted at that, but then immediately and quietly hissed “Wheesht!” at Johnny to make him shut up, glancing back at the pretty lady. “Don't be disrespectful,” he added.

Johnny chuckled, ever amused at the fact that his Scottish vernacular was infecting the Englishman. He leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee, continuing to smirk, “Since when did ye care about respect, huh?”

Simon inhaled sharply, since he was getting increasingly impatient with Johnny and at the fact that he was running out of arguments. It was also a bit hard to argue in a place where you're supposed to be quiet.

“Just go already. I cannae see ye looking so stupid like this. The worst she can say is ‘fuck off’.” Johnny shrugged.

Simon shot his friend and unimpressed look, making Johnny snort. “That is the worst thing she can say, you wanker,” he said, now mechanically rising from his chair.

“Fuck off and get her number, ye gobshite, or else you'll just be wanking to her and not talking.” Johnny shook his head with a smirk and gave his friend a slap on the back as he passed him. Simon returned the gesture with a slap to the back of Johnny's head, particularly in annoyance at the latter part of his sentence.

While Johnny whined quietly from how hard a slap he had been dealt with, Simon's attention was drawn when he heard her voice again, sounding a little agitated. His head whipped towards her table, and yet again, she was being hit on by some guy, and clearly looked like she was uncomfortably fighting back his unwanted advances.

Simon glared at the man as he began his march. “If only she had a boyfriend by her side, a guard dog…” he thought to himself as he speedily, yet calmly stepped over to her table.

He went around some tables and emerged behind the man, towering over him. Before Simon was noticed by her, his hand came down heavily on the man's shoulder, making him flinch. Leaning down, he whispered as the man turned to face him, “What business do you have with my girlfriend?”

The man was met with Simon's glaring eyes that meant serious business. He froze up immediately.

“Babe, he was trying to hit on me even though I told him I wasn't interested,” the lady's voice resounded, and a quick glance at her told Simon that her eyes glimmered with recognition.

The “babe” made his knees weak for a moment, but he shook off the feeling and continued to glare at the man. No more words were needed. He immediately stood up from his seat and strode away, apologising without sincerity. When he was finally earshot, she sighed.

“You alright, love?” asked Simon with gentleness unusual to him, glancing around again to make sure the man was nowhere in sight.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she sighed, also looking in the direction the man left. She looked back at him and smiled brightly, “But what a coincidence. We meet again, Simon.”

“And I'm mighty chuffed about it.” he thought to himself as he nodded in response. “Funny coincidence, really. My friend and I were just about to leave on a small road trip and the rain,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue as he looked at the windows, “it rained on our parade, I guess.”

The unintentional pun made her giggle. Simon normally had a grip on his emotions, but that damned giggle threw off his train of thought. But regaining himself, he continued, “So we took shelter here, and I saw you. Thought I'd come talk and then I heard that guy trying to make a pass at you.”

She motioned to the chair for him to sit down, which he instantly did; he cursed himself for seeming so eager.

“You heard?” she asked with emphasis.

“Yeah?” he nodded, slightly confused as to why she zeroed in on that word in particular. “I was looking elsewhere, and then I heard you.”

She then glanced at her laptop for a moment and then pulled the screen down slightly so he wouldn't see what was on. As she did, she said, “I see. I'm lucky you came just then because I was having a hard time driving him away.”

��I could tell,” he answered slowly. He then decided to change the subject. “You come here often?”

“Yeah, every day. This place is calm and quiet and the atmosphere helps me work.”

“What's your job?”

“I'm an author.”

“An author?” he blinked in surprise. He didn't expect that. “What do you write about?”

“Fantasy and adventure… With a hint of romance.” She grabbed her tote that was on the table and pulled out a book from it, which she showed him. “This is my first published book.”

“No kidding?” He took the book in my hand. It was titled ‘Firefly Trails’, embossed in gold. The cover was matte, showing a dark forest trail dotted with glossy fireflies and their greenish yellow light. Below the title was her name, and he read it in his mind slowly, his eyes spending more time taking it in more than anything else on the cover.

“New York Times Bestseller.” he recited, smirking as he eyed the epithet on the top of the cover, “Don't they slap this on every book?”

“They do, but this actually did pretty well in New York.”

“So you're famous then?”

“Kind of?”

“Tell me your Instagram handle, I'll need to see for myself.” Simon pulled out his phone and looked at her, waiting for her to tell him.

She did. He immediately typed it out on the search bar and while he did, he rested his elbow on the table, holding his arm upright. His neck was craned upward slightly, and the lady couldn't help but stare at the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped, and the way the sternocleidomastoid muscle tightened and popped from under his fair skin as he moved his neck.

Her analytical, authorly eyes scanned him keenly, soaking in all she could make of his facial features; at his icy blond hair, short and styled in an undercut; his long eyelashes, his shapely eyebrows, his slightly pink cheeks under the black mask, the way his brown eyes reflected against the blue light of the phone screen; it was all a sight to behold. He was saying something, but her mind was so lost in trying to mentally string words together to describe the view in front of her in the most superfluous manner possible, in hopes that this information would be used in her future works.

“Hey, you really are famous. You got quite a tonne of followers.” Simon, who was highly aware of her shameless staring, somehow managed to interrupt her flow of thought.

She was successfully brought back to Earth from her daydream, and she nodded, now embarrassed to have been caught red-handed. He thankfully made no comment on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

She answered, “I suppose so. But they're not as many as bigger authors. I'm not complaining, though. I'm really happy to have a lot of people liking my work.”

“You're too modest,” he said, and she could see his cheeks rise to his eyes just a wee bit behind his mask, indicative of a smile. He now showed her her Instagram page on his phone. “There, I followed you,” he said, pointing at the grey ‘Following’ button.

“Are you sure? You don't look like the type of person who reads or is interested in author updates.” A slightly teasing smirk tugged the corner of her lips.

Simon chuckled and shook his head slightly, making his short hair swish a little; she took notice of it. “I'm a voracious reader,” he bragged, lying through his teeth, even using a fancy word to make it more convincing.

She smiled, clearly not quite convinced, but decided to humor him anyway. “If you are, then that book is a gift for you.” She glanced at the copy resting on his lap.

“No kidding?” he blinked as he took the book in his hand to gaze at it. “Well, since you're so famous, I think I should get your autograph.” he said, and she could see one of his cheeks raised; an unmistakable smirk.

“Oh, come on, you're making me blush,” she giggled, but took the book anyway.

"My intentions exactly," he thought as he watched her grab a pen and start writing on the first page.

His phone buzzed a message in the meantime, and he took the device to have a look. It was Johnny. He glanced at the other end of the cafe at his friend, and found him staring, finishing the last sips of his coffee.

Johnny MacTavvy: oi yer tea's getting cauld

Johnny MacTavvy: Rain's stopped too. Let's go

Simon now looked out the glass windows and the rain had indeed stopped, and a bit of sunlight was peeking through the cloudy skies. He sighed, not wanting to go just yet, but knowing Johnny wouldn't let him tarry any longer, he quickly typed a reply, which Johnny saw immediately.

Fuckin’ Brit: ok

By the time Simon kept his phone in his pocket, the lady finished her autograph and handed the book to him. “Enjoy.” She smiled.

Simon murmured a “Thanks” as he received the book, and then rose from his seat.

“Leaving already?” she asked, looking a little disappointed.

“Yeah, my friend's annoying me to finish my tea so we can be on our way. The rain's stopped now, so…”

“Okay,” she nodded slightly, glancing out the windows to confirm for herself. Looking back at him, she smiled again, “Take care then.”

“You too,” he inhaled. “Make sure you don't get hit on again,” he said, attempting to be casual and funny, but he felt like his attempt turned out to be so stupid.

She shook her head, scoffing and smiling. “I'll be fine.”

He was relieved that the attempt landed safely despite the turbulence, and he sighed. “Right then, I'll see you inna bit, love.”

“See you, Simon.”

He nodded once at her and then strode back to Johnny, feeling his knees get weaker by the second. He managed to reach his table and practically fell down in his seat.

“Well?” asked Johnny with a smirk as he leaned forward and eyed the book in Simon's hand. “She gave ye a gift, I see.”

“She's an author. Her first book.” Simon answered, handing him the book so he could see it.

“For real?” Johnny took the book and flipped through the pages. The autograph on the first page caught his attention and he read it. His eyes widened slightly and he closed the book, returning it to his friend, who was drowning the lukewarm tea. “He completely forgot, didnae he, this bastard.” Johnny muttered under his breath, smirking.

“What was that?” asked Simon, setting down the teacup.

“Nothing. Let's go.”

The two paid for their drinks and as they stepped out the door, Simon glanced back at her, and saw that she was also looking at him over her shoulder. This time, he felt a bit fluttery in his stomach. She waved at him with another of those pretty smiles and he waved back, already feeling his knees go weak again.

The two turned away and exited the book cafe. While Johnny wiped the rainwater off the motorcycle, Simon took a moment to see what she had written as an autograph.

“Dear Simon, thank you for saving me twice. I hope you enjoy the book,” was written, and along with that was her name and signature.

Below that was written in unmistakably bold and clear letters, “Call me,” along with her number.

Simon felt like he had been struck by lightning. His face turned alarmingly red and hot to the point that he scrambled to pull his hood over to hide himself. “Fuck me…” he mumbled his exclamation as he processed this very clear green light from her. It was unbelievable.

In the meantime, the lady herself couldn't believe this whole thing just happened. He happened to be there, came up to her, saved her, and swooped her off her feet the second time. It was an amazing coincidence, a once in a lifetime incident, something straight out of a novel. And being an author, she couldn't let this go. She just had to shoot her shot by slapping her phone number in the autograph and now hope that he would call her.

But if there was one thing that sold her completely, it was the fact that he heard that she was in trouble, and came to her rescue.

Feeling a flutter in her chest, she looked back at her laptop screen. A Google search result was displayed in bold:

“The name Simon means ‘to hear’.”

End of Part 2.

Part 3

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reveluving · 4 months

Note

Hey.

So Simon Riley. Right?

https://x.com/adultdailynsfw/status/1726939800274354687?s=46 This is how sex would go with him.

I have zero doubts

I CAN'T OPEN IT?? IDK IF IT'S JUST ME OR IF IT GOT REMOVED?? WHAT THE FOQ.

PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE SOMETHING SIMILAR TO RESEND BECAUSE I NEED TO SEE THE VISION, DEAR ANON 💳💥💳💥💳💥

(EDIT: I CAN SEE IT AND HOLY FUCK. I CAN'T HELP BUT WRITE A THOT HERE AAAAAAA THANKS BABE 💗)

IMAGINE:

Simon being so pussydrunk, he's mindlessly sucking and nipping your neck and shoulders. Like a literal zombie. Groaning each time he's bottoming out inside you. Feeling and hearing the squelches and spurts leaking out of you bit by bit.

He needs to hear you. Squeal. Mewl. Scream.

And whenever you do, you'd turn your head, averting your gaze from his dark, intense ones. He takes it as an opportunity to lick a big stripe up your throat. You'd feel him smirk into your skin.

RAAAAAAAAAAH

Come & check out my COD m.list!

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mlmxreader · 1 year

Text

Say You'll Haunt Me | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Can I request “I thought I’d fucking lost you for good for a moment” with Ghost please? Thanks

summary: he's gone, he's gone for good... or at least, that's what everyone tells you.

tws: swearing, smoking, graphic depictions and descriptions of severe injuries, blood, death

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

All of the lights were off, they had been all day as you no longer had the energy to do much anymore; the lights were off, all the doors were locked, and aside from the quiet television playing old reruns of some stupid adult animation that you didn't even look at, all was silent within the house.

The bedsheets smelled like fresh washing powder, and the blanket was still warm from the tumble dryer; the curtains had not been opened in weeks, and did well to keep the light from the street lamps out properly.

Old clothes were packed into boxes, ready to go into the attic where they would stay; they didn't smell like the bedsheets. Dishes were still piled in the sink, ready to be washed after hours of supposedly soaking; the bins were nearly full, had been for days, and were almost ready to be taken out.

But none of that really mattered, there were bigger things on your mind; sleeping alone should have come naturally, you did it often enough before you had met the love of your life, but it never really did.

Late and long nights were more than regular. The king sized bed just never seemed the same without your lover there.

You sniffled, putting the phone down as you ignored the texts from your friends; you knew that they were only trying to be kind, to help you along, but you couldn't bear the thought of speaking to anyone.

Gaz called two, three times a day. Soap called, texted, sent you voice messages. Laswell texted throughout the day. Price did his best. You didn't want to speak to them, you couldn't.

You sighed, frowning as you dragged yourself to the kitchen; you made yourself a cup of coffee, justifying it by knowing that you wouldn't sleep anyway. You lit a cigarette, knowing it might help. It was better than nothing, at least.

It was better than spending another night in a house that just wasn't a home anymore, a house that was just an open, gaping, sore wound.

It started to feel different, though, you felt like you were being watched when you turned your back; you tensed up, swallowing thickly as your heart began to thud in your chest. You could have sworn that you locked the doors, you were sure of it.

But still, something was there with you, and when you heard the harsh and heavy footsteps, you could hardly move; you just about managed to back yourself against the counter, holding onto it tightly as you listened closely.

They were getting closer, and closer, and closer until-

"Don't turn the lights on."

You knew that voice, and relaxed when you realised, even daring to smile as you laughed softly, shaking your head. "Simon, you dick! You scared me."

"Sorry…" he was just a shadow when he stepped forward, entering from the hallway as he held his hands up. "Just… don't turn the lights on."

You nodded, taking a swig from your coffee as you hummed. "What happened? They told me… Price said you'd been… y'know."

Ghost's shadowy figure shrugged, and he sighed heavily. "Doesn't matter."

You figured that he probably just didn't want to talk about it, so you shrugged as you finished your cigarette and dared to sit up on the counter. "Well, I'm glad you're home. I thought I'd fucking lost you for good for a moment."

He nodded, but didn't make his usual move to stand between your legs like he usually did when he first came home. "I missed you. I'm sorry I never said goodbye."

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side. "But… you did - at, at the airport."

He shook his head. "No, I mean… forget it."

You were worried, pouting as you frowned and cleared your throat. "Simon, what's going on?"

He swallowed audibly, but when he spoke, his voice was starting to sound more and more like radio static; crackled and buzzing, broken and bumbling. "Don't worry, I just… I only came to say that I'm sorry."

"Simon," you whispered. "Please, talk to me."

He couldn't stop you when you reached for the light, and nor could he stop you when you gasped and shuddered as you looked at him; half of his jaw was missing, the exposed flesh burnt and dripping with blood and pus. His stomach had a clear hole through it, exposing his bottom two ribs and how they were cracked, how his entrails had been split and were dripping all over the floors. His eyes were white and had thick yellowish crust growing over the lids.

You trembled, taking a step back. "Si- Simon?"

"I told you not to turn the lights on," he wheezed.

You shook your head, looking at how the muscle and fat of his left arm was exposed and weeping. "Simon?"

"You shouldn't have turned the light on," he was becoming more and more unintelligible. "I have something to tell you, one last time."

You were speechless, bottom lip trembling as everything started to become a multi-coloured blur; something warm and wet was on your cheeks, but his static laced, buzzing voice was all that you could hear.

"Before I go," he hissed. "I loved you."

You wanted to scream at him, to demand an explanation for what was going on, to beg and plead for him to just tell you what the fuck had happened and why he looked like that, but by the time that you had wiped your eyes and nose, he was gone; all that was left, on the countertop next to where he had been standing, was his identification discs.

When you held them, they felt hot and nearly burned your hands; they were dented, the shape clearly that of a bullet, and your heart sank. Price had told you that they couldn't find Ghost's discs, but now you had them in your hands, and you understood what had happened, why Ghost had come back but hadn't stayed.

"Simon," you whispered, swallowing thickly. "Please haunt me again."

483 notes · View notes

saturncodedstarlette · 13 hours

Text

[Adventures with witch!Y/N & familiar demon!Ghost P.4]

Witch!Y/N, wants to cause chaos disguised as experiments : Awww come on, Ghost please? Please?

Demon!Ghost : For the last time it’s a no.

Witch!Y/N, holding the new brewed potion : But how will I know the effects of this totally-not-dangerous potion if you won’t let me experiment it on something? I promise it won’t turned out like last time!

Demon!Ghost : Oh, so you remember how disastrous it was! How you tricked that innocent man into drinking that transformation potion, all because you want to see what it’ll do!

Witch!Y/N : Heyy, I warned him beforehand! And besides, he turned handsome and finally get bitches!

Demon!Ghost : Yeah, then a day later he turned into a frog-man-thing, he was so hideous that the entire village burned him at the stake. And even got falsely accused of being a monster.

Demon!Ghost : Hell, I’m a demon and I have more morals than you.

Witch!Y/N : Hmph, when have I done anything rash or irresponsible? Aside from the man-turned-frog.

Demon!Ghost : I have a list of it, it’s even alphabetised too. As of right now, it’s about 200–something and counting.

Witch!Y/N, using the puppy eyes : But how will I test my new potion I just made? I’d feel like a failure sitting among other witches.

Demon!Demon : …Fine, I’ll go get a test subject for you.

Witch!Y/N : You can pick anyone, I’m not too picky! Just not the plants, the animals, the trees— I love my trees, and not humans— I’d get bored too quickly with them.

Demon!Ghost : How about fairies?

Witch!Y/N : Hmm, I guess. Some of them have been stealing my stuff and cursed my things too! That’ll teach them a lesson.

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obsessedduh · 3 months

Text

thank you @vamp1refang1rl for the idea!!

also Simon calls you sweetheart and John calls you princess.

part one —> here

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Captain John Price who has you sitting on his lap as Simon 'Ghost' Riley sucks your pussy. John's face has biggest grin as you try and muffle your sounds as much as can. it was pretty difficult when you feel someone's fingers stuff you up so fucking good.

you feel Simon's fingers curl so nicely into your precious g-spot which made you toes curl and your head throw back onto John's shoulder.

you were biting your lip so hard, blood leaked from it, leaving it all swollen and bruised. John's hand ran his hand over your lower stomach to your tits, covered in hickeys and bites from their previous session. he teased your already hard and bitten nipples, tugging and flicking them. it makes you whine as you were about to cum from the immense pleasure you hear them both chuckle and Simon and John stop at the same time, you pout and curse yourself in your head. you just have to hope that they'll be nice. you've been nothing but good up until now.

"c'mon princess, didn' we teach ya' enough?"

"m'sorry Captain...won't happen again..."

"let's hope no' we wouldn' wan' to punish ya', swee'hear'"

you nod and before you knew it, Simon's fingers we back into your pussy and just hitting all the right places. John's traced down to rub your clit while pressing a kiss on your forehead. it felt so good until you couldn't take it anymore, you squirted while biting your lip so hard so you don't , all over Simon's face and all over John's hand.

"Tha'll teach ya' to shu' up durin' my mee'ings, yeah?"

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

wanna know more about me? —> here

mastetlist —> here

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

i'm actually really disappointed in this but meh. oh well 🤷🏿‍♀️

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 6 months

Text

I Surrender Who I've been, For Who You Are

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of past trauma, past abuse, torture, death, some smut MDNI (18+), slow morning sex, fingering but it fades to black, mentions of sex, Ghost opening up

Words: 5.7k

Synopsis: Simon opens up to you...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 9 of The Roommate Series

Simon jerked awake and it took him a moment to realize he was in bed with you. He took a couple of deep breaths to slow his racing heart and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling to ground himself.

Another nightmare. He couldn’t remember what it was about, and that was a good thing, but he knew by the sinking pit of dread in his stomach that it had been something awful.

He grabbed his phone and squinted when it turned on to see that he had woken up at five on the dot, which didn’t surprise him considering he had never slept in since he had joined the military. Even when he was home he still got up around five and usually he would be making breakfast on most days but today was Thursday, meaning you had an early class.

He sighed and he felt that all too familiar pit form in his stomach. He tossed his phone away and rolled over to see you curled up beside him.

You were deep in sleep and yet even in your sleep you leaned most of your weight against him. Not that he minded, in fact he liked it almost too much because instead of getting out of bed as soon as he woke up like normal he got even more comfortable.

He pulled you into his chest and breathed in your scent deeply, burying his nose in the crook of your neck before he shut his eyes.

Simon wanted to keep you here. It was selfish but after everything, after coming home to you injured and after what happened earlier this week, he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to you and spend a couple hours by himself. He’d much rather spend time with you especially now that his injury was mostly healed.

He wanted to take you on more dates, it would be the best time for it since it was technically summer now, there would be more opportunities to act like a couple.

Simon ran his thumb across your skin as he hugged you closer to him.

A couple. A relationship, that was certainly something he had never done before. He had never had anything this serious in his life, any relationship in his past had been one time flings or casual hookups with the same person for a few months before they eventually got tired of waiting for him.

This was nothing like that and while that scared him he also knew that this is what he wanted. For once he knew that he belonged with you, he was confident that you were the one he wanted to be with and he knew he could live up to your expectations as well.

But he also knew that meant he needed to be more open with you.

And he couldn’t lie to himself and say that didn’t terrify him.

Simon built walls, he didn’t break them or remove them because those walls kept him safe. It was so much easier for him to keep everything to himself and deal with it on his own where he controlled those feelings and thoughts rather than let anyone know what was going on in his mind. He relied on that safety for most of his life and most of his career considering just how downhill it went, even if it isolated him.

But that safety pushed you away and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. Suddenly it felt too lonely and his walls felt more like a prison, especially when he realized just how badly they could hurt the one he loved.

He’d never forget hearing you cry behind the bathroom door and in some sick twisted way he hoped he always remembered if that happened again.

He knew he had to be more open with you, about whatever he was feeling but also about himself too. It wasn’t fair to only show you a tiny part of Simon Riley, the part that was the “perfect” version of himself for you when he knew it would blow up in his face if he continued to keep most of himself hidden.

He wasn’t sure how to do it, how to open up to you but at least he knew you’d never have to see Ghost. That was the one thing he couldn’t compromise on because if you saw Ghost then he was sure you wouldn’t find anything good about him to stay.

Simon let out another deep sigh. He’d figure out how to do it sometime soon, he needed a plan and to prepare himself for the worst when he decided to sit you down for a talk. For now, he just wanted to spend a few more minutes with you in bed before you had to get up.

His eyebrows knitted together and he opened his eyes to a slightly brighter room as the sun rose outside.

Your alarm should’ve gone off by now, he was sure of it. He didn’t want to snoop through your phone but he also didn’t want you to be late to your class, even if you hated it.

Simon gently ran his hand up your arm before he placed a few soft kisses to your cheek. He squeezed your shoulder as he placed kisses against your skin and watched you slowly wake up from your deep sleep.

“Love.” He mumbled and you hummed as you leaned closer to him, letting him press another kiss to your temple. “You need to wake up for your class.”

“It’s summer break.” You placed a hand over his and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

He paused for a minute and stared at you. He’s not sure why it didn’t click that it was summer, maybe because it really didn’t matter when he was at work, but suddenly he felt warmth spread across his body. He had uninterrupted time to spend with you now, at least until Price came to check on him and bring him back to the base.

He didn’t want to think of that right now. Now he just wanted to make up for the fact he woke you up so early for nothing.

“Sorry.” Simon hummed and started to place slow, opened mouth kisses on your neck.

He continued when you let out a deep sigh and revealed more of your neck to him, a small whimper escaping your mouth when he sucked on the spot just underneath your ear.

The noises you made fueled the fire in his stomach as he began to grind his hard cock against your ass, his kisses becoming more heated when you pressed yourself against him.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt and palmed your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as you let out a soft moan. He ran his calloused fingers down your skin and lightly nipped your earlobe as his fingers slid into your underwear. His fingers teased your slick folds before he delved into your heat while his thumb rubbed slow but deep circles on your clit.

You were so warm and the moans you let out were so beautiful that he could imagine this is what heaven had to be like.

Simon stood in the kitchen preparing to make breakfast a couple hours later. He glanced at the clock and couldn’t help but feel proud of himself that you were still asleep. It only felt right considering it was your summer break and after the past week and half of him recovering, you deserved to rest.

He ran his fingers across the taut skin where a new scar would be added to his body. The stitches had dissolved earlier in the week and the pain was long gone, he was back to normal, or as normal as someone like him could be.

He began to make breakfast and his mind wandered.

Getting back on the mission would be tough, especially after having been abruptly taken off it, and he wondered how much the others have gotten done in the two weeks he’s been gone. He knew they got the intel they needed when he had gone back to get patched up but Price was keeping a tight lip on any info.

“No talking shop over the phone, you know that. Recover and spend time with your partner, I’ll call you when I need you.”

It was frustrating and the only thing that made it better was the fact that he had you. If it weren’t for the fact that this was an opportunity for him to spend time with you he’d be losing his mind over this.

You made it better, you always made being home away from work better and that made him even more inclined to open up.

Christ, where would he even start?

His entire life was, is, a mess, a disaster, especially compared to yours and anywhere he thought about starting felt like too much. There were so many details he wouldn’t dare tell you but how do you even go about telling someone your life has never been good until you were an adult who’s just going by day to day?

He didn’t want to scare you away, put too much on you or make you think that he expected you to carry all of his emotional burdens. Would you even want to stay with him if he told you all that was wrong with him?

What had his therapist said all those years ago? Fuck, it’s all blurred together now and it’s not like he can call her up to ask.

Simon sighed deeply and took a long sip of his tea.

Maybe he was overthinking it, maybe he was making the wrong choice. He didn’t know what was right, what was wrong, what any of this meant and he wasn’t sure if there was anyone in his life that he could ask for advice about it.

If his mum were still alive…

Your bedroom door opened and stole his attention away from his thoughts. He listened to you slowly make your way to the kitchen and a smile tugged at his lips. He was a little disappointed he wasn’t the one to wake you up again but it didn’t matter much to him as he heard you walk down the hall.

“Morning.” He greeted you when you entered the kitchen.

He peered over his shoulder when you gave him a sleepy hum and his chest warmed when he saw your bedhead. You were wearing one of his shirts and you attempted to rub the sleep from your eyes as you came up to him.

You place a hand on his bare back and Simon leaned into your touch before he pulled you into his side.

“Smells good.” You breathed out as you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest.

“Not the strangest compliment I’ve gotten.” He teased and sighed deeply when you pressed a kiss to his skin with a small laugh. “Sleep alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I slept great.”

Simon smirked and let the compliment feed his ego as he held you close to him. He finished up breakfast and went to get the plates for you both when you took his attention away by stopping him.

Your eyes met and for a moment the air was knocked out of his lungs. You looked at him with such an endearing affectionate look that for a moment he forgot exactly who he was and everything that he had come from. All he could do was remember all the times you had looked at him with the same fondness before as if he was a different man with less scars on his body and his mind.

The warmth in your eyes was all encompassing. You somehow always reserved it for him whenever you stared at him like this, when you were in his arms or halfway across the room, and it never failed to make the tension leave from his worn muscles.

It was unmistakable, what the look meant, and yet some part of him still held onto the doubt in the back of his mind because you made it look so effortless.

His throat tightened up for just a moment before he swallowed the lump and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Careful looking at me like that.” He warned softly and watched as you began to grin.

“Like what?” There was glint in your eye and he scoffed.

“Cheeky.”

He kissed your forehead and your eyes fluttered shut. He ran his fingers across your hairline before he gently caressed your face like you were made of glass. He held you close to him, caging you to his chest and you leaned into him with a sigh.

“Breakfast’ll get cold.” You murmured but made no indication that you were going to move out of his arms, in fact you hugged him closer.

“I’ll make more.”

You chuckled before the both of you reluctantly let go of each other. Unfortunately, neither of you were keen on letting good breakfast go to waste and before long the two of you sat across from each other while you ate.

The conversation was easy, it always was when it came to you, and for a moment he wondered why he ever thought that speaking to you about the darker side of his life would ever be an issue.

“What’s on your mind?” You wondered.

He must’ve been staring off into space or maybe you just knew what to look for when he thought a little too hard. It was too early in the morning for a talk like that. He’d rather wait until the day was almost over so if it went wrong at least he wouldn’t have ruined a good day like today.

“What do you want to do today?” He changed the subject.

You hummed, your eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion at his dismissal of the question. You stared at him and he stared back unphased but amused as he saw you debate in real time on whether or not you wanted to press him about what he was thinking about.

Simon continued to eat and raised his eyebrows to silently ask you to say something.

“I need to get a birthday present for my friend.” You said and he nodded. “So we can go shopping and you can tell me what you're thinking about.”

“Would you believe me if I said nothing?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sighed and shook his head but he didn’t feel annoyed. He knew if it came down to it, you wouldn’t pressure him to speak about whatever he was thinking about. It bothered him but he would tell you eventually, once he got the courage to do it and because he made a promise to you.

You gave him a smile, a warm one, but he saw the hidden mischief behind it. There was no avoiding the conversation now, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it anymore anyway.

“Later.” He promised and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. “What?”

“I thought it’d take more convincing.” You said and he shrugged with a small smile on his face.

“You’re persuasive.”

You gasped and he watched your eyes twinkle as you came to the realization that you had a lot more power over him than you had originally thought. He could see your confidence peak more and more as you stared at him with shock while you slowly became elated over the idea of convincing him to whatever you wanted him to do.

“So what you’re saying I could ask you to do anything?”

Simon had to stop himself from telling you the truth that yes, you really could ask him to do anything and he’d do it. It was almost scary how willing he was to do anything for you just because it was you but he would do it without much thought, especially if it meant you were happy.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He shook his head but you were grinning, much like how Soap did when he got an outrageous idea and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of dread.

“Sorry, but all I’m hearing is free lunch today.” You teased and he rolled his eyes as if he’d let you pay for your own lunch anyway.

The two of you finished breakfast and before you could snatch the empty plates away from Simon, he had already put them in the sink and began to wash them. You gave him a playful glare, one that he returned before he nodded towards the door.

It was surprising how willing he was to go shopping nowadays if it meant he got to spend more time with you. He couldn’t believe he was trying to get you to hurry and get ready so the two of you could do it together.

“Go get dressed.” He told you so the two of you could get started on shopping.

“Help me.”

Simon’s eyes shot to yours and he stopped what he was doing.

You had a glint in your eyes as you looked at him through your eyelashes. There was a deep desire within them, something that could only be attributed to lust as you lightly dragged your fingernails across his skin which left goosebumps in their wake.

You grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the door.

He followed you without hesitation.

Simon stood in the store with you later, confused as to why you had immediately gone to the toy section instead of anywhere else in the store since he was sure that the friend you were getting the present for was at the same university as you.

“What are we doing in the toy aisle?” He practically glared at the toys on the shelves on either side of him.

“My friend likes these stuffed animals.” You explained as you sifted through the stuffed animals in front of you without a care in the world.

He grunted and stepped closer to you, his eyes fixated on the various toys around him. Most of them were generic, Barbies and other dolls with all of the accessories they’d ever need, random toy animals and of course the stuffed animals you were looking at. He was sure that the next aisle over had even more options for children to play with and he felt himself tense up slightly at the idea.

This was the first time he had been in the toy aisle since Joseph.

So much had changed. There were so many different toys than what he could barely remember and yet he couldn’t help but think that his nephew probably would’ve loved to play with all of them.

He clenched his jaw and turned his attention elsewhere before a lego set caught his eye.

It was small, nothing spectacular compared to the other ones on the shelf that he could see, but it still caught his eye. He never had a lego set growing up and he knew for a fact that if he had seen the one he was staring at when he was younger he would’ve begged his mum to get it for him only to be told no.

In hindsight, it wouldn’t have survived in his house if he had it anyway.

“Did you play with legos when you were a kid?” You asked, your voice pulling his attention away from his thoughts.

“No.”

He turned to you and saw that your face had fallen into a slight frown. You glanced between him and the lego set, your eyes having a sort of soft sadness in them that made him clench his jaw slightly.

He didn’t mean to be short with you but he wasn’t ready to tell you all about why he never got to play with legos as a kid in the middle of the store. No one in public needed to know what his home life used to be like.

“What kind of toys did you play with?” You wondered.

“Figurines.” He lied and looked at the toy animals across from him. “I read more as a kid.”

“That reminds me that you need to get more books, you read them all.”

He hummed and nodded, ready to let you change the subject as he watched you pick out a stuffed animal you thought that your friend would like. He followed you to the check out before you somehow convinced him to drive the car closer to pick you up at the doors instead of having you walk to the car with him.

Before long, the two of you were back at the flat after having an early lunch he of course paid for even when you tried to argue that you were joking about it beforehand.

Now he sat on the couch with you watching the horrible TV show you liked but his mind was elsewhere.

Simon still found himself stuck inside his thoughts, playing over the idea of telling you or not, to the point he was thinking in circles not getting any closer to an answer. Nothing sounded right, not telling you felt like he wasn’t being truthful but telling you felt like maybe it was just too much.

He didn’t realize how quiet he’d gotten until you placed a gentle hand on top of his and leaned some of your weight against him.

You had a concerned look in your eyes when they met but he gave you a small reassuring smile before he took your hand in his. You didn’t look that convinced even when he gave your hand a squeeze.

“I might have something to cheer you up.” You offered and he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not upset.” He said, which wasn’t a total lie since he was more confused than anything.

“Can I still try?”

“Depends on what you have.”

You jumped up from the couch. He watched you curiously as you rushed into your room before you returned with your hands hidden behind your back, much like how you acted when you were giving him the joke book for his birthday.

He gave you a suspicious look and tried to peek around you to see what you had, but you moved it out of his view each time he leaned forward.

“This is not pay back for driving me around today or buying me lunch.” You prefaced and his eyebrows knitted together.

It wasn’t until you pulled out the lego set he had been staring at earlier that his eyes widened slightly and he gave you an unsure look. You however gave him a warm smile before you held it out for him to take and sat down next to him when he did.

“Why?” That was the only thing he could ask you as he stared at the box before he looked at you.

“Because I like you.” You said and he felt his chest tighten. “Everyone deserves to play with legos.”

It took everything in Simon to not drop the box on the floor and kiss you until both of you were about to pass out. How could you say something like that so easily and be completely serious about it as if it were some natural fact about the world. Your words calmed him and riled him up, it caused a torrent of different emotions inside of him that felt so overwhelming good he had no clue how to deal with them.

You were everything to him and he was so afraid of losing you because of who he was.

“You’ll help me, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Simon wasn’t sure how long the two of you sat there and worked on the lego set. He had a lot more fun with it than he would’ve thought even as he followed the instructions and listened to you talk. He wasn’t sure why sitting next to you and playing with legos of all things made his chest feel warm and made him truly understand that his feelings for you were deeper than anything he had ever felt before but he couldn’t have been happier.

You made him feel so safe and so loved. He knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Can I…I want to be more open with you.” He began and you gave him your full attention. “But I don’t want it to change anything.”

“It won’t.” You said confidently and for a moment he felt a twinge of anxiety hit his stomach.

How could you be so sure? What if he told you and you decided he wasn’t worth it?

“You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Your words repeated in his head and the anxiety settled. He had to trust that you were truthful when you said it, that you really meant it.

He set the last of the lego set down and settled back against the couch, his attention on you as you did the same. He watched as you kept a short distance between the two of you and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for that.

“We go at your pace.” You told him. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re uncomfortable.”

Simon nodded and thought for a moment. He had no idea where to start, how to talk about it without sounding utterly insane but all he could manage was speaking matter of factly about it.

“My father was abusive.” He practically blurted it out.

You had a serious look on your face and though your eyes went sad he didn’t see pity in them, and somehow that made him feel better. You didn’t say anything as you patiently waited for him to continue.

“He used to torment me. I was always too afraid to stand up to him or to fight back. I joined the military to get away but I always wanted to help, and I was able to get the job that I have now because of that. When I came home it was worse than before…I wasn’t scared anymore and I was finally able to kick him out and never had to see him again.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dead.”

You nodded and he was grateful there was an ounce of remorse for the bastard in your eyes. Instead, you placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly across his muscles as you went silent again.

“I stayed after that. My brother was an addict and I couldn’t leave ‘em so I helped him get and stay clean, helped my mum too.” He went on and leaned into you when you began to trace patterns into his tattoo.

“That was good of you.” You told him with a proud smile that warmed his chest.

“Before long Tommy met his wife and got married, then he had Joseph. I had a nephew who had to be the best kid I’d ever met even when he acted out. For once in my life I had a family that felt good, because life was good.”

Images of Simon’s happy family replayed in his mind. His mum who always treated him kindly even when he would have his moment, even when she had been under extreme stress because of his father. Tommy and the way they finally got close after everything and how trusted him enough to let him babysit Joseph. Images of the kid who always wanted to be around him, who looked up at him as if he were the coolest person in the room.

They were far from perfect but they were his family.

He couldn’t help but wonder what they would’ve thought of you. He could imagine his brother teasing him about how you were “out of his league” or how his mum would fawn over you at every chance she would get, pulling you to the side with Beth and telling you all of the embarrassing stories about him she could.

Simon’s face had fallen and you stopped tracing his tattoo.

“They would’ve loved you.”

Your eyes widened and your face fell. You looked almost panicked as you stared at him. He could see you thinking up every possibility, hoping that you were wrong about what you knew he was implying as a deep sadness crept into your eyes.

“Are they…?” You barely spoke above a whisper and when he nodded you immediately grabbed his hand. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

Simon held your hand firmly. He felt the heavy weight of grief push against him like many times before. It happened years ago now but sometimes it still felt like it was recent. Normally he wouldn’t feel so upset but maybe it was because he was finally talking about it to someone else, with you, that it began to open old wounds.

“I went back to work once everything was normal. I was asked to help for an op and there were these two soldiers with me when it went south.” He trailed off and suddenly his voice was lost.

Panic hit his chest and he swallowed hard. He balled his hands into fists as he tried his hardest to hide the fact that he was beginning to shake.

How could you love someone who went through what he did? His scars never bothered him until this moment, until he realized that once he told you where most of them came from you might not look at him the same way. You might look at him like he was broken and not worth the hassle even when he was going to spare you the details.

What happened to him doesn’t happen to regular people and you deserved someone a lot more normal than him.

You caught his attention when you gave his hand a comforting squeeze. When he looked at you, your eyes were reassuring despite the sadness in them and you rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was soft and warm. “We can stop.”

He shook his head. Even if he was afraid he knew he had to say something, if he didn’t then he’d regret it later on.

Before he could think, Simon pulled you into his lap and hugged you. He let out a shaky breath when you hugged him back, your fingers carding through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

He held you like this would be the last time he would be able to. He stayed quiet for a long moment so he could just sit in your presence as he waited to get enough composure to continue.

You waited too. You didn’t say anything as you continued to play with his hair.

“I was tortured for months.”

You shot up and he felt his heart go into his throat. You stared at him with horror as tears immediately filled up your eyes while you stared at him in disbelief.

You shook your head as you held his face delicately and your thumb caressed the scar close to his eye. Tears began to fall and intense grief flashed across your face, like you were mourning his death, before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

He watched you cry and watched your heart break for him. Guilt rose up inside him and he rubbed his thumbs into your hips.

“I’m sorry-”

“No. Don’t you dare apologize.”

You sobbed softly and you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes. Unfortunately they wouldn’t stop so instead you pulled him back into a hug that he gratefully accepted.

He knew you didn’t want him to feel guilty for telling you and he knew that you were trying hard to stop yourself from crying. He knew you too well to know that you were crying because you were upset that something bad had happened to him which would’ve been endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he felt incredibly vulnerable right now.

He was glad he had you. Just having you in his lap was enough to make him feel safe.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away from your eyes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Simon held you tighter. You began to run your hands through his hair again and he slowly found it easier to breathe despite the shakiness in his chest.

He didn’t deserve it. You believed that, of course you would and for once he actually believed it too.

He had told himself so many times that he somehow deserved it, he must’ve done something to cause his father to treat him that way, that he must’ve done something horrible to end up on the end of torture for months on end. He had to because that only happened to the worst kinds of people and yet…

He didn’t deserve it.

He took a deep, shaky breath and hugged you closer to him. A massive weight lifted off of his shoulders and he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he blinked away the tears.

“I’m better than I used to be.” He assured you with all honesty. “Some days are just worse than others.”

“And that’s okay.” You placed a warm kiss on his temple. “I’ll be strong when you can’t.”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat and he cursed under his breath.

He pulled away from you and locked you into a deep, tender kiss. You were still crying but he didn’t care as he held onto you as if you were his saving grace.

You kissed him back just as fervently, caressing his face and holding him as if you were protecting him from the world.

There were so many emotions swirling inside of him that he wished he could tell you how much he loved you, how far he was willing to go for you and everything he’d do for you.

He’d tell you ten times over, he’d tell you everyday if he could but the words always died in his throat before he could even open his mouth. He hoped you knew even without the words. He hoped that everything he did to try to show you how much he loved you was enough until he could finally say it.

Every kiss he gave you meant: I love you.

Link to part 10

A/N: I hope this didn't come off as trauma dumping but I think the only way Simon would feel comfortable enough being vulnerable with someone would be to just explain what happened but also yay we're healing. Also not my best in the series but this is also the best I could do after being burnt out. I hope you guys like this

Tags:

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw2

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undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

circles and squares

simon ghost riley x f!reader (cod)

an: you should all thank @halfmoth-halfman for this one and our early morning chat. I heart you lots.

an: written on phone, mind any errors.

Ghost is aware he’s not the easiest person to be with.

He's an entanglement of repressed feelings, scars that run deeper than layers of skin and a need for solitude, that you seem to have slid past.

You take it all in your stride, not fazed—not asking too much—the patience of a saint.

It’s not that why he likes you. It’s that you make up rules for the two of them with relative ease. Providing him with ways to express himself without using words.

For someone whose skin is littered with only a handful of marked memories and a heart still soft, you surprise him with how deeply you understand him.

How much you just get him.

In all of his future thinking, Ghost never envisioned such a soul would fall for him—although Simon had always hoped.

Two fragmented parts of him working together, desperate to keep whatever was happening between the two of you intact. Even if he had little to give and not a whole lot to offer, you stuck around.

You say very little when it comes to his past, taking what you can with gratitude. When you’re ticking, turning over thoughts—needing something but unsure how to ask for it—you make up solutions to give him a voice.

Not a physical one, but one just as loud.

“—like this,” you explain, taking the pen from his hand, drawing a circle—small, no bigger than 2cm—onto the plain, crisp page.

The black stands out, all stark against the white paper on the chipped wooden desk. His eyes glancing up from the nib, to your eyes.

He wants to ask for an explanation, folding his arms, sighing as he runs his tongue over his teeth.

You smile.

He suspects it isn’t because you hear his sigh or because of the way he folds his arms—but because you know him.

You know it isn’t to do with impatience or confusion, but rather because you understand that the two of you squirrelled away in a room brings questions. Ones he wants to save you from, as though you’re a damsel and not a lieutenant under him.

You don’t need to protect me.

You’d said that once. Under him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your fingers brush over stubble and blemishes.

But he does.

Not just from the gossip, from the glances. But those who look for him—those who inflicted each defacement he lets you see.

If anything, you’re one of the very things he needs to protect. Keep you safe.

“If we fill it in like this,” you say, shading in the circle. “We’ll know the other person isn’t okay. We don’t have to explain to why, but we’ll know.”

He cocks a brow, not that you can see it. His mask, the one all plain black, more for the base than out in the open, hiding his expressions from you.

Ghost suspects, though, you see right through the fabric. Like you saw through him to begin with. Ignored the snark and the bitterness, saw something—someone—worth getting drenched for when you were both stationed in Europe.

He hadn’t liked the rain before then, not the scent of it—not the way it made his clothes cling to his skin, how it suffocated him. But he likes how you looked in the rain, how your face relaxed even as your hair flattened to your head. How your hand turned palm over, catching droplets like they were blessings and not something which had ruined an entire night of recon.

“Alright, but if we’re OK?” He asks.

Your head nods, drawing another circle next to it. Not filling it, just leaving the outline there.

“Not filled in means we’re okay.”

It doesn’t cross his mind what they’ll do if there’s no paper, if there’s no way in a crowded room to get across that you’re drowning. That it feels too much. That you need him.

You think about it, though. Because you always are. Always thinking of ways to make things easier, better. Ticking it off—always assessing, attempting to better things. Not for you, never for you (your selflessness knows no bounds), but for him.

An answer to his inner thought was answered a month or two later.

It’s a mess, loud voices—arguments brewing in fractions as mutinies begin to build. Price in the centre, chewing his cheek, fingers twitching, likely desperate for a cigar or even a drink as another captain chews his ear off.

The 141 rarely partner with others for this reason.

He doesn’t linger on Price. Knows if he’s needed, he’ll hear his name cutting through the loudness. So he looks for you, eyes searching, finding you pressed into the corner. Alone.

You’ve not been sleeping. Tossing, turning beside him. Fingers reaching for him, finding his side, his arm—even his fingers—as your brows knit and stencils lines into your face.

He never wakes you, just lets you take—and when you don’t take, he just holds. Clutching you close, pressing your ear to his chest, hoping the steady beat of his heart is enough.

Sometimes it is.

He suspects now wouldn’t be.

Your back is pressed against the wall, eyes down on the ground before they flick up, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Not just because your eyes are stunning, cutting into him from across a room, but because of how you look at him: a silent calling, a beckoning, a help dancing close to your pupils.

Slowly, for confirmation, he watches as you raise your right hand, drawing a circle on your left shoulder. His eyes track it, following it as it meets your starting point. Mind drowning out Johnny, not even listening to the group of idiots next to him—focused instead on how you begin using your finger to fill in the symbolic shape.

He nods.

Feet moving, gloved hands pushing shoulders and bodies, parting the pockets of people as he moves towards you.

Ghost isn’t sure what he can do when he gets there, his pulse just thumping—following only a need to be next to you. He expects murmurs, more suspicious comments about how he’s always close by to you. Smarter soldiers recognise that he always has an eye on you if you’re close—they’re just not smart enough to identify something is already happening, and has been for a while.

As he nears you, he’s thankful he doesn’t need to ask it because you’re already keeping your eyes on him. Seeing as he gets closer that your lips are slightly parted, a little O created, chest rising and falling as you take in shallow breaths.

He wants to offer something, whether it’s his voice, presence, or anything. Which is why he asks:

“Wanna get out of here?”

He’s not sure if you expect it—not sure if you had considered it an option. Your head nodding, furiously, blinking away tears that threaten to spill as your hand brushes his wrist.

Not to take his hand—the two of you don’t do that—but to tap. Once, twice.

Thank you.

He nods. Not able to (or wanting to) stop the way his heart soars at it—at being able to provide you with something.

Give you a fraction of what you give to him: a way out, a safe place.

In time, your things begin to merge with his.

Not just on base, but back in England too. Your socks are washed with his, your back covered in one of his tees that skirts your thighs.

He doesn’t mind, for the most part, only finding he struggles with it at night. When you’re sound asleep, soft snores kissing the darkness as he turns over the many ways you could be taken from him.

Ghost sleeps less when he’s home. Most of his REM is collected in the day, sun shimmering through the blinds, your fingers drawing shapes on his shoulders.

Sometimes they’re squares—which means either I love you, or I miss you—and sometimes their triangles. The latter, he’s not sure if they have a meaning. He just draws them back on your knee, watching your lips slide up into your cheek as you try to read your book.

He likes it—the code.

The one he can say down the radio. The one he can draw on your arm when you’re both pressed together in some place in the Middle East.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise him when you shout his name, the front door being kicked shut behind you—a surprise in a carrier bag.

“I know you’re struggling.”

You say it so plainly. Not a hello or how are you, getting straight into it, watching him as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his joggers.

He says nothing either because there’s little reason to lie. He wears the truth well, the bags under his eyes worse than when he’s sent away on a solo—his need to pin you under him in the morning when sleep hasn’t been wiped from your eyes another tick against your assumption.

Retrieving the item from your bag, you place it on the counter with a tap. His eyes falling from you to them, noticing four magnets.

Nothing impressive, nothing too much. But he knows instantly what they are.

One black circle, one white circle; one green circle, one red circle.

“Naturally, I’m the colourful ones.”

“Naturally,” he snorts.

Moving towards him, you slide a hand over his hip. “They’ll live at the base of the fridge door, and we’ll slide one up—close to the top. When we remember,” you say, looking at him. “Same as the circles. For me, red is—“

“Black.”

Nodding, you try to smile. “Square.”

“Square,” he says back, quickly. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing a line across it.

Wondering, as he always does, how you remain so soft, so kind. How even though you’re haunted too, you still find ways to do things for him—

“Because I love you,” you say, as though reading his mind. “It’s easy because I love you.”

Swallowing, he holds your cheek more firmly, his other hand resting on your hip.

“Y… you don’t have to say it, I’m fine with—“

“I love you. It’s why I worry.”

Rolling your lips, you sigh—soft and small—before you nod. “I know, Simon. But we keep each other safe. Yeah?”

He nods back.

Because you do keep him safe. Not wearing a mark on your skin from him—or asking him to leave one—just in case. Your name on the place the two of you call yours, just in case.

An understanding is known about the future—mainly around rings and names, just in case.

“Which circle are you?”

His lips twitch, a smile wanting to show. “White.”

“Okay, good.” Your finger begins to draw a triangle, his eyes narrowing, your lips rising into a smirk. “Bought something else, too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you lick your lips, eyes widening as you continue to draw it on him. “Wanna go upstairs and… see?”

It hits him only then. The deviousness in your eyes showing.

Triangle means—

“I want you,” you whisper.

He snorts, his laugh dying in his throat, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

Kissing shapes against your lips, unshaded circles, squares, and then triangles.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost x you #ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost x female reader #ghost riley headcanon

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ghostlychief · 1 year

Note

So I read your simon riley “ghost” scary dog privileges, but may I present to you……the idea of simon being the most terrifying in combat but when he goes home it’s his wife you should fear more. Looking all sweet and innocent like she could never hurt a fly because she’s so tiny, and then they see the rbf and someone flips the bitch switch. Can be whatever scenario 👀 I just thought it would be funny because that’s exactly how it is with a friend of mine and his girlfriend 😂

HELLO! This is such a funny concept to me, so it was very fun to write! I hope you enjoy what i threw together, and thank you for your request!! <3

-Lee

masterlist

Counterpart

Oneshot; Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

wc: 932

warnings: none

The irony’s in life are assuming.

Because whatever force, god, or being, thought it would be funny for Simon Riley, aka “ghost,” aka one of the “scariest members of task force 141”, to finally meet his match, and fall in love with said match, were having too much fun with the precarities of his life.

Ghost certainly has a reputation at the base, and in his world. His peers respect him, his enemies fear him (let’s be honest, his peers also fear him). He was an accomplished lieutenant, with many awards for all the brave, but terrifying work he accomplishes frequently. He earned his reputation. For the longest time, task force 141 was the most afraid of Ghost, that was, until they met you.

Everyone knows the saying that you never really find love, it finds you. For Ghost, love didn’t really find him, it more so smacked him upside the head.

You were completely removed from his world, something he was grateful for. You had a simple 9-5 job, with regular amounts of stress, but you were never in danger or putting your life on the line, something that eased Ghost’s mind when you guys first started dating. The contrast in your realities is what actually brought you closer together, finding solace within each other’s worlds that the other could not ever think to visit.

You offered him normalcy and calmness, something he only ever dreamed of obtaining. He offered you excitement and a sense of security. You always picked his brain about the technicalities of his job, always fascinated by the missions he goes on, and impressed with his combat abilities.

Besides your jobs being contrasts from one another, your personalities were also different. He was quiet, sure, and patient. You were more strong headed, impulsive, bursting with energy and assertiveness that left people intimidated of you. You guess that’s one thing you and Ghost had in common: intimidation.

You didn’t let anything slide, nor take shit from anyone, something that helped gain success throughout your academic years and the early days of your professional career.

You and Ghost made quite the pair.

When task force 141 found out Ghost had a girlfriend, they didn’t really know what to expect of you. They figured you must have had some thick skin to be able to date Ghost. However, they would never know, nor see the gentle side that Ghost practiced towards you. He was a giving, and gentle lover. Something you know is solely because of the devastating world he is subject to through his job. He wanted peace outside of work, and he provided you with a sense of that, and you did too.

The first time you met task force 141, they were shocked to find out that you were completely opposite of Ghost, both in personality and in physical features. He towered over you at his whomping height of 6’4, you barley reached his shoulders. While he held a gaze of indifference, yours was stern, eyebrows naturally furrowed, and a permanent scowl was left on your lips, until you smiled or started talking.

To put it simply, they felt a little uneasy at first, and it solidified when you opened your mouth.

“What? Are you all just going to stand there and gawk at me, or introduce yourselves?” With your hands on your hips, and a slight tilt to your head you managed to intimidate the squad 141, even though you were the least threatening person in the room, physically. Ghost snickered next to you as he watched his teammates take the blow of your statement, your presence filled up the room. Their wide-open mouths shut instantly, and they all lined up to introduce themselves. You found it hard to hide your smirk.

After your first meet and greet with the team, you found yourself spending more time with them, with Ghost of course. You would occasionally meet them at a bar for a round of drinks, or go out to dinner. Though they got more comfortable around you, you never failed to surprise them with your demeanor. Always demanding, that people respect you, specifically men.

One night you all were at the bar, celebrating the end of the week. You got a phone call from a colleague, something you didn’t appreciate on a Friday night. However, you knew it had something to do with your client, and it wasn’t your teammates fault for having to call you this late.

You took the call regardless, and the team hushed when they heard your conversation. “I don’t care what the client said. They gave us a deadline for next week, and the fact that they’re requesting the report today, a Friday night, is laughable. Tell them either accept the fact that the report will be delivered to them next week, or tell them to find someone else to do all their work for them.”

You abruptly ended the call with a sigh, and you noticed the silence around the table. The men tried to act like they were just all sipping their drinks with no thought, but you knew they were listening to your call.

“This client always tries to push up deadlines, even though in our contracts, we state the official deadline. Official, as in, cannot be changed. They’re just a bunch of idiots who think they can push me and my team around because I’m a woman leading this project.”

With a shrug, you say, “I have to stand up for myself and my team.”

Task force 141 wasn’t going to argue with that one.

hope you enjoyed! <3

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aoioozora · 3 months

Text

Simon.

Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Here's part 3! This one's a little shorter, but I think you'll like it ;) Likes, reblogs, and comments are encouraged and appreciated, so feel free! Enjoy :) Image credit: mr.ghostcos TW: scars

It had been a week of utter silence since giving your phone number to Simon, and you were starting to give up hope.

The lovely Sunday morning sunlight streamed through your open windows as you worked on the manuscript of your second book in the comfort of your little apartment. Your phone was on your desk right next to your laptop, and you found yourself glancing at it repeatedly, still having an inkling of hope that he would call. Lately, any unknown number that called you would be greeted with exuberance, only for it to deflate when it was not him. You even followed him back on Instagram, but he hadn't accepted your follow request yet, as his account was private.

Your fingers tapped away on the keyboard unenthusiastically, nearly turning yourself into a factory of sighs. Even your friend Lindsey, the same one who lived in those dangerous streets and knew of how you had been saved, was worried that you wouldn't finish your manuscript in time for the deadline. Your well meaning friend would try to encourage you to move on from him, but it would just make things worse. You still couldn't help but hold on to that hope, because if he and you met a second time just out of pure chance, then that would mean something, right? And so you stubbornly held on.

You made things worse for yourself too, and you snatched your phone to stalk his Instagram account and whatever you could see of it. He went by the username “ghostriley”, and his profile picture was his gorgeous black motorcycle. There was his full name “Simon Riley” and his bio was non-existent, except for the Union Jack.

You mindlessly gazed at this profile, and let your mind wander back to last week when you met him the second time. You couldn't help but replay that moment over and over and over again.

The way he approached behind the man, and put his gorgeously rugged hand on his shoulder and frightened the wits out of him just with his voice was worth fangirling for, even though he was no celebrity himself. You recognised him immediately, just by looking at his eyes; those same dark, black hole-like eyes. With only a couple glances at the first meeting, you already memorised its shape with how keenly observant you were.

It was a welcome surprise to see him without his helmet, and to learn that his hair was blond, styled in a low tapered fade that looked freshly cut. Now the only thing that shrouded him in mystery was the mask he wore that had the lower part of a skull printed on it. It made him look a little frightening, but maybe that was the point; it worked well to scare others if needed, along with how tall and broad-shouldered he was.

Your ringtone blared out loud. You flinched at the sudden noise, nearly making you drop your phone on the floor. But you managed to catch it in time, and upon looking at the screen, it was another unknown number. You rolled your eyes.

“Hello?” You answered flatly.

“Hello, am I speaking to ____? This is Simon.” came the familiar gruffness that you recently learnt was a Cockney accent.

You immediately sat up in your chair like you were a jack-in-the-box that had been opened. So unexpected was this call that your heart nearly stopped, and you found yourself opening and closing your mouth, struggling to find the words like you were a deer caught in the headlights.

“Yes, you got the right person,” You finally answered with a wide grin, feeling your cheeks burn, hoping you weren't sounding too excited. You had to admit to yourself that you secretly missed his voice, which left your ear feeling tingly from the proximity.

“I'm so sorry,” he apologised immediately, his words now tumbling out of his mouth, “I know you asked me to call you, but I had been on a road trip and a hike with my friends, and I didn't have a jot of static in the mountains anywhere to call you. We've been away a week, and I'm finally back.” He paused to sigh and collect his breath, “But I had your novel with me, thankfully, and I read a bit of it,”

You were relieved to hear that he hadn't done this intentionally. “Don't worry about it. How did you like my story?”

“I've only read a couple chapters, but I'm hooked. I'm no reader, but I'll be damned, you're turning me into one.”

You raised your eyebrows with a smile. “Oh? But didn't you tell me the other day that you were a voracious reader?”

There was a brief silence, and then a very quiet, “Fuck!” Apparently, Simon didn't keep track of his lies, and didn't expect you would remember.

You giggled triumphantly. “Caught in a lie?”

He could hear you smirking and he sighed, a little embarrassed. “Caught in a lie.”

Before you could say anything else, you could hear loud yet muffled music playing on his end. “Kinda noisy there,” You commented.

“You can hear it?” Simon remarked with surprise. “My friends crashed at my place after our trip. They're…” he paused, looking over his shoulder to look inside his living room from the balcony he was standing on, “They're busy dancing; no idea why. Got endless energy, these lads.”

You chuckled. “Don't you want to join them?”

“Not my cup of tea, ye ken?” he said.

“ ‘Ye ken’? What's that?”

Simon groaned when he realised what he said. “It means ‘you know’ in Scottish. My friend is Scottish, and all his words are rubbing off on me.”

You had heard snatches of the Scottish accent before, but hearing him say a Scottish phrase in his British accent sounded both funny and endearing. “You two must be close then,” You chuckled.

“We're practically brothers, he and I. We've known each other for a very long time.” Simon said, trying to sound nonchalant about his long friendship with Johnny, but the brotherly tenderness found an opening to slip out a little.

You could hear the regard Simon had for his friend in his voice, and it made you smile. It gave you the impression that he cared deeply for his friends, and it appeared to you sweet. “Is he the same friend you told me about that day in the cafe?” you asked.

“Yeah, his name's John. John MacTavish.”

Just as you were about to answer, you were interrupted by the very subject of your conversation on Simon's end. “Oi mate! Wit ye doing there outside? Cut the call and dance with us!”

Simon groaned and answered Johnny unenthusiastically, “Coming!” He then turned to the call to tell you, “That's John, by the way. And I think I have to go.”

“I can tell,” You chuckle, “Have fun dancing?”

“I don't plan on dancing. I'll be reading your novel… hopefully.”

Him saying that gave you a flutter in your chest. “Keep me posted on your thoughts.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his voice now lowering slightly, as if whispering, “You'll hear from me very soon.”

Something about what he said and the way he said it sent a tingle down your spine strong enough to force the wind out of your lungs.

Simon, concerned about your momentary silence, asked, “You there?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I got a little distracted.” You scrambled to say. Little was an understatement.

“It's alright,” You could hear him smiling, “I'll be hanging up now.”

“Sure, I'll talk to you soon.”

“Oh, before I go, I was wondering…” he paused, hesitatingly running his hand through his undercut.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to see the pictures we took on our trip?” he asked, and quickly added with, “Maybe they could help you with writing?”

“Oh yeah! That would be great. Thanks a lot.”

“Right then, I'll send them right after this call.”

“Perfect. So, I'll see you later?”

“See you later, love. Take care.”

You could practically hear the gentleness oozing from his voice and you shamelessly wished you could have a recording of those very words so you could hear them over and over. You answered, “You too, Simon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You kept your phone down on your dinner table you sat at and sat for a moment in silence. Pushing your laptop aside, you held your face in your hands and squealed like an excited piglet, kicking your legs under your chair.

“He called! He called!” your thoughts screamed as your entire body went on celebratory mode. The echo of his gruff yet sweet voice reverberated in your mind, and you couldn't help but think of using his voice as the voice of the male lead in your second book.

You held your flushed, burning cheeks in your hands and exhaled heavily. “Oh, calm down, calm down,” You patted your chest where your heart was, as it was throbbing wildly with excitement.

And then, to make things worse, your notifications went off chiming. It was Simon sending you the photos from the trip, and you immediately took your phone to take a look. He had sent photos of distant mountains, streams, and a couple photos of the backs of his two friends hiking on a beaten trail.

A particular photo of a row of trees in the forest that shaded the grassy ground was captioned, “This reminded me of your book cover”. You smiled, feeling a little fuzzy that something reminded him of you; not a feeling you were used to. You replied to it:

You: It really does look like the cover!

As you scrolled down the chat screen to see photos of mountains, flowers, and bugs, which were all beautiful, but the last photo took the cake. It was a candid picture of him walking across an aged stone bridge bathed in the tree filtered light of the evening sun, making his face and clothes speckled with golden yellow. He was looking over his shoulder with a look of surprise in his eyes like he had been called out of the blue. The entire photo was beautiful enough to take your breath away. It was captioned, “Don't mind me. I thought you'd like the bridge. The place is beautiful… would make a good book cover.”

You wrote in reply:

You: you're so right

You paused for a moment, looking at the pictures again. “So this is what the world looks like in his eyes.”

Mountains, nature, bridges, his two friends, and the reminders of your book were in his field of vision that week. You knew for a fact that people take photos of what they cherish or something interesting, a snippet of time forever frozen into a memory. You felt your cheeks flush again.

“Maybe…” You found yourself thinking, but you shook your head, telling yourself not to be delusional.

In the meantime, Simon stood leaning his back on the balustrade of the balcony, staring at your messages of approval for the photos with a relieved smile.

Author Girl: Thanks for the pictures! They're so beautiful. You guys must've had a lot of fun

He typed back.

Simon Riley Biker: We did, it was great

Simon Riley Biker: I'll text you soon ok? Have to go

Author Girl: okay tc :)

Simon Riley Biker: you too. Cheers

Author Girl: cheers :)

Simon shoved his phone back in his pocket, exhaling. The music inside the apartment had died down as his thoughts wandered. He wanted to ask you if you would come on a hike one day, but he didn't want to come off sounding like a serial killer. He was already aware that his size and his voice were intimidating to most.

But you seemed to be mesmerized by it.

Simon walked back inside the apartment where his two friends, Johnny and Gaz, were found fallen over each other on his sofa like dominoes, tired from all the dancing. Johnny had fallen on one of the cushions, while Gaz had his head resting on Johnny's thigh, and his legs hoisted up on the arm rest. These two sure were comfortable.

“Done dancing?” asked Simon, standing over the two.

“Done talking to your missus?” asked Gaz, who was a handsome, lean, and dark skinned fellow whose real name was Kyle. He was also an Englishman.

Simon, who was normally unmasked in front of his friends, scrunched his nose in a sneer. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“That's not what Johnny told me,” smirked Gaz, glancing at Johnny who was already half-asleep, having spent his energy. Johnny grunted sleepily at the mention of his name, and went right back to sleep.

“Mate, she's not my girlfriend,” insisted Simon, “She's a friend that I happened to save twice by pretending to be her boyfriend.”

Gaz raised a brow. “A friend? Thought you never wanted any girl friends.”

That reminder got him thinking. He didn't, really. But maybe he wanted to change that.

“She's nice,” he admitted quietly, not wanting to come off sounding enthusiastic.

“Go on and steal her heart then, lad!” Gaz exclaimed, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

Simon thoughtfully ran a hand over his left cheek, his fingers running over his stubble, but more so over the groove of an old scar that reached from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone, one of the many that told a story of a troubled youth.

“I doubt she'll want her heart stolen when she sees this,” replied Simon, pointing to the scar as he pushed Johnny's head aside and sat down on the sofa.

Gaz now sat up. “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.” He looked at Simon with raised eyebrows and rested his fist under his chin, looking at his friend like a disappointed parent. “She even gave you her number. That's a massive green light!” he motioned to the novel the novel on the coffee table with his hand exasperatedly, “She's clearly got more balls than you.”

Simon looked back at Gaz, and a momentary staring match ensued. “What if she's just being friendly?” asked Simon, raising an eyebrow to challenge Gaz.

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” Gaz shook his head, now growing a little impatient, “Life's too short to worry about being rejected. Don't wanna have regrets now, do we? What if she gets taken by someone else? What you gon’ do then, huh?”

Simon was still unsure but Gaz did have a point. He sighed, relenting, “Fine. I'll try.”

Gaz smiled proudly. “That's my boy!”

Simon retreated to the bathroom to think. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his rugged face. While he was only in his late twenties, he easily looked thirty-five thanks to his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his strong cheekbones, and his untrimmed beard; he was a lifeless thing sometimes, and that's why he earned the endearing moniker of 'Ghost' from his friends. The scar on his face stood out like a sore thumb and he rubbed the base of his palm over it, a vain attempt at trying to remove the ugly thing.

He looked at his hand, another rugged thing, calloused more than anything from holding on to knives and people too tight. More scars peeked from under the sleeve of his jumper, numerous and woeful pale lines crossing over each other like scattered toothpicks, all of them staring at him under the intersections of his black tattoos.

His vision blurred as he thought of her smile, that beautiful grin which would crinkle her nose and the corners of her beautiful, shining eyes; she appeared to him the personification of purity and sweetness; that was his deduction of her from their short acquaintance, and he felt like he could not be mistaken.

He could see how she looked at him, stared at him even. He could hear how happy and excited she sounded when he finally called. Practically everything was telling him to respond to her advances without fear.

And yet standing before him was a seemingly insurmountable wall that he erected to keep himself out of the world's notice. His distant eyes focused on the scars on his hand and then at the one on his face. "Would she really want all of this?" His thoughts swirled like cesspools as he continued to stare at himself. He didn't know the first thing about her, and yet his insecurity condemned him, saying that he was no saint compared to her.

Of a truth, he wasn't a saint, but must it hold him back? Gaz and Johnny would beg to differ.

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” his friend's voice echoed in his thoughts.

He murmured, now standing up straight, "I hear you, Gaz."

End of Part 3.

Part 4

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