#single mom!reader x Simon Riley | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowboydisaster · 9 months

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Just Like You

pairing: SImon "Ghost" Riley x single mom reader word count: 1.6k summary: Ghost can't get used to the fact that he's your son's favorite person in the world, but damn- he's trying. ("You- You're me for Halloween??") a/n: this fic references the comics, so for those who didn't know: Joseph was Simon's nephew. Super angsty and fluffy. Simon bonding with your kid. beta read by @margowritesthings

masterlist

Leo loves Halloween. It’s your son’s favorite time of year. The five year old boy, with your help, worked incredibly hard on his costume, and he’s sure it's going to be the best costume on the block. You may be a little biased, but really, it’s very good. Leo has put extra effort into perfecting every detail of his costume, because this year is special.

It’s the first year that Simon will be accompanying Leo with trick or treat. Leo loves Simon to pieces– but Simon can’t figure out why. The soldier elicits fear from nearly everyone that he encounters, his mask makes children scream and run in the other direction. Hell, his mask makes adults piss themselves in the field. Many enemy soldiers have surrendered at the sight of Ghost running towards them. So Simon can’t wrap his head around the fact that his girlfriend’s little boy looks up at him like he’s the greatest person in the world.

Simon is less than stellar with children. He tries, but he’s not entirely sure how to talk to them. He’s always a little awkward, generally avoiding children when he can, but this one seeks him out. Simon loves you more than anything, and he wants to form a relationship with Leo, he’s just not exactly sure how. He’s trying, for you and the boy. Leo’s biological dad is a piece of shit, which Simon has lived through, and he tries to shield the poor kid from that pain as much as possible. Maybe it’s because Leo reminds him so much of Tommy and Joseph, but your kid is special.

–

“You ready, bud?” You ask, pulling a hoodie over your frame. It’s Simon’s and it’s oversized, stopping just above your knees. But it's comfortable, and late-October in Manchester is not. Immediately, you find yourself encompassed in its warmth and the smell of Simon’s cologne.

“Almost, mummy!” Leo yells from the bathroom. “Simon is gonna love this!”

You chuckle, “I know he will, baby.” You grab the fresh mug of tea from your nightstand and head down the carpeted stairs. Simon was to be here an hour before trick or treat. You check your watch. 18:00. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, sounding out loudly through your little home. Always punctual. Leo squeals out of excitement at the sound.

“Coming!” You holler, padding across the chilly living room towards the door. You jog lightly, causing a few drops of tea to spill over from the lip of your mug, dripping down to the floor and splashing against the hardwood floor. Ignoring the little mess, you pull the frosted glass door open. Simon is wearing his less civilian mask with the hard plastic skull face. You’d specifically requested that he wear it, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You can just come in, you know. You don’t have to ring the doorbell.” You chuckle, nodding for him to come in. He steps inside the door, hands softly gripping onto your waist as he kicks the door shut.

“I told you to keep your door locked.” Simon raises an eyebrow, squeezing your waist.

“Oh, right…” You hum, squinting your eyes as you recall that conversation, “I forgot.”

“Course you did, love.” Simon smirks, “Happy Halloween.” he says, and you chuckle, gripping his skull mask by the teeth and pushing it up over his face. His scarred lips are sporting a smile, and you kiss it away. It’s over all too quick as he pulls away, nodding towards the cup of tea in your hand.

“The kettle’s still on, yeah?” He asks, pulling the mask back down over his face.

“Yes, I’ll get you a cuppa.” You roll your eyes playfully. He’s cutting your kisses short for tea, something he’ll make up for later, you’re sure. Simon glances around the living room, noting the few abandoned truck toys that lie around the living room.

“Where’s Leo?” Simon asks, looking around the living room as you walk towards the kitchen.

“He’s just finishing getting ready upstairs. Why don’t you go up? I'll bring your tea up.” You hum, grabbing a tea bag and Simon’s favorite mug. You hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs, and take that as his response.

You shake your head, amused as you slowly pour the steaming water over the tea bag, watching it turn a rich brown. Once it’s properly mashed, you add his preferred amount of milk and sugar, and then carefully start up the stairs. Your footsteps are naturally much quieter than Simon’s, and with the added fact that you’re trying not to spill his tea, he doesn’t hear you coming up the steps. You reach the top, and stop dead in your tracks at the sight around the corner. Simon is walking towards Leo’s bedroom, but from the angle you’re at, you can see Leo hiding around the corner as if he's about to scare Simon. Leo is fully dressed in his Halloween costume, a little replica of the exact outfit Simon is currently wearing, skull mask and all.

“Boo!” Leo screams, rounding the corner that Simon was just about to go around.

Simon clutches his chest, jumping back a comical amount. Simon literally screams, attempting to sound terrified. Obviously Simon isn’t scared in the least, but Leo doesn’t know that. Simon lets the boy proudly think that his costume is scary enough to frighten the unshakeable. Leo’s smile is as bright as ever under his mask, and you grip the cup of tea a little tighter as a smile pulls at your own lips. Simon’s eyes are comically wide as he fakes terror for the young boy. Entirely satisfied with Simon’s reaction, Leo pulls his mask off, giggling madly.

“It’s okay, Simon! It’s just me, don't be scared!” Leo giggles, jogging up towards Simon who is bent over at the waist, pretending to gasp for breath and holding his chest.

“Bloody hell, mate. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Simon chuckles, scooping Leo up into his arms. Once settled on Simon’s hip, Leo holds the plastic mask up to Simon’s face. It’s an exact replica of the mask he’s currently wearing, just much smaller.

“Look! I'm just like you for Halloween!” Leo smiles, showing Simon all the little details that he’d put into perfecting his mask.

“You–” Simon’s brow furrows, “You’re me for Halloween?” He asks, piecing it all together. Leo holds the mask out to Simon, who takes it and looks over the smaller version of Ghost’s infamous skull mask.

“Yep! Do you like it…?” Leo asks, sounding a bit worried. His little eyebrows pull together, and Simon is quick to reassure him.

“I love it, mate. It’s perfect, looks just like mine.” Simon whispers. There is emotion in his voice, unusual for him, you note. Tears prick your eyes as Leo puts the mask back on, looking up at Simon.

“I wanna be like you when I grow up.” Leo says, wrapping his little arms around Simon’s neck.

“You’re gonna be better than me, Leo. Much better, yeah?” Simon whispers, looking the boy in the eyes. Leo nods, curling up against Simon’s chest. He rubs his hand up and down Leo’s back, comforting him.

“You know, Leo, you remind me of a boy I used to know.” Simon mumbles in a rare show of emotional vulnerability, his eyes glazed over as he pats the boy’s back.

“Who?” Leo asks, propping his chin on Simon’s chest to look up at him better.

“Uh–” Simon hesitates. “His name was Joseph… He was my nephew.” Simon whispers, and your heart wrenches in your chest.

“Maybe I could meet him someday and we could play.” Leo whispers, hopefully looking up.

“Yeah. Maybe someday.” Is all Simon says, nodding lightly as old, ugly memories pull at his brain, ones he’d shoved out and burned long ago.

“I love you, Simon.” Leo whispers, hugging his little arms as tightly around the man as he can manage. He pulls Simon out of every dark thought he was having, those three little words pulling at his heart strings. Simon hesitates, voice stuttering for a moment.

“Yeah– I love you too, little mate.” Simon whispers, voice heavy with emotion.

“This is gonna be so much fun– Mummy even helped me with my costume!” Leo adds, unintentionally changing the subject. He creates a perfect time for you to announce your presence.

You hastily wipe your eyes and walk up the last step, rounding the corner you were just hiding behind. You catch Simon off guard, and he turns to you, slowly placing the young boy back on the ground.

“I didn’t hear you come up.” Simon whispers, taking the mug from your outstretched hands. He’s far away, lost in thought. Leo runs down the hall to grab his treat bag as Simon wraps his arm around your waist.

“Didn’t want to spill your cuppa.” You explain, resting your head on his chest for a moment. Leo comes back around the corner with his bag, excitedly waiting for trick or treat to begin.

You smile up at Simon, noticing a few little tear tracks running down through his eye black.

ghost taglist: @moths569

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would.

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office.

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed.

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you.

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing.

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough.

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby.

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping.

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid.

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby.

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back.

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you?

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?”

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing.

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #well at least the implication is a slow burn in which they do fall in love #they just do it all very out of order #baby > marriage > moving in > sleeping together > dating #Soap is gonna be pissed

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celestialprincesse · 3 months

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More Simon X Single mom!Reader💕🌙

Based on this drabble😚

wc: 1.1k

You're so, painfully reluctant to ask Simon for help. He offers, frequently, to help you get bedded in to your small flat, which only now, finally free from the clutches of your desperation, do you understand why it was so cheap. The first time he comes over for dinner he notes the way your kitchen faucet takes ages to put out hot water, and honestly, it took a fair bit of blindly tapping (smacking) random pipes to get any water at all. He seems to take issue with not only the lack of amenities that could help you get settled, but also the fact that the few basics that you do have access to don't work. You're a single mom, with a three year old daughter, and his sense of justice has always been at war with his longing search for peace and isolation.

Simon doesn't have much to do when he's not deployed, Price putting him on some kind of mandatory break after the last mission went south, as did his mental health. Because of said lack of hobbies, work and education, Simon finds himself doing literally whatever he can think of to occupy his mind, to forget about what happened in October - if that means helping you string a wreath on the front of your apartment door and lugging a christmas tree up the stairs for you, that's what he'll do. You'll be the first to admit that you're cash poor - buying this house ate up the majority of your savings, and the rest you're currently blowing through supporting your daughter whilst also trying to get a job, very contradictory to the fact that you're also trying to lay low.

The man that lives next door to you is no fool, not as blind and imperceptive as you wish he'd be. You see the way his eyes occaionally shoot to the fading tan line on your left ring finger and the small, raised scar on your bicep. Occasionally, he himself wishes that he wouldn't see the bags under your eyes or the way you clutch onto your daughter like she'll be ripped away from you - maybe then he wouldn't feel such a sense of duty to you. Maybe he wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of the fact that he's spent his life plagued by gunfire to protect innocent women and children, and now faced with the people he vowed to lay down his life for, all he can do is offer to fix your blocked hot water pipe.

So, when you stand on his doorstep, sniffling down fat tears threatening to spill, apologising profusley when you look up to see his confused expression, he can't help but to engulf you, and your wailing daughter at your hip, into what he can only hope is a comforting embrace. "Y' a'right? Whats goin' on?" He murmurs, a hint of panic in his voice. Simon knows the feeling of your past coming back to haunt you all too well.

"I'm sorry I just - the oven is broken, and I need to make her dinner and bath her and put her down to bed -" Is all you can manage before you're hiccuping into the hand not supporting your equally as distraught baby girl.

For a second he just stops, his brain short circuits as he struggles to comprehend the fact that you're coming to him for help. He can't understand the way you lay your soul bare before him, not when he's so distant, so intimidating, and you're oh so soft, lovely as a morning songbird and as warm as sun soaked sand.

"Would you mind looking at it?" Even you recognise how pathetic you sound, standing here practically grovelling at your neighbours door, but apparently it works when he's guiding you back to the front door you stupidly left open in your panic, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing you down as you sit between utter misery and the panic which filled your lungs like a puncture in a life raft when one little part of your routine you'd become so reliant on fell out of place.

"Gas's out." He tells you softly, like any more bad news might make you shatter completely, and the thought of delivering that blow makes him feel physically sick. "Right - Right, no gas." You murmur, brain whirring at a million miles a second in order to work out what to do next.

"You could use my oven? I'll call the gas company in the morning and have them install a new bottle."

His words make you stop, processing his offer, his generosity, the generosity of a man who's never once been cruel or rough or mean to you, and you give a little grateful nod, cooing to your daughter about how you're going on an adventure to Simon's place. The way he scoops her up so that you can stuff a bag with all of the things you need to make dinner, bouncing her on his hip to stop her wailing makes your insides warm in an unfamiliar way, one that you promptly shake off as you follow him across the threshold of his undecorated apartment, trying not to stare at your surroundings as you're guided to a kitchen that you're sure is far more functional than your own.

The way Simon doesn't have any cartoon channels on his TV, so he grabs his laptop instead, plopping your daughter down on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and some kind of kids show playing on the screen makes you ache, and you can't imagine how a man with no kids of his own could be so good with yours. There's a softness to him despite his physical body being comprised of muscle and sinew and scars, his soul is gentle. He's gentle with you, and he's gentle with your daughter, and that's all that you can ask for.

You make enough dinner for the three of you, mostly to thank Simon for his hospitality, but also because you're starving and the meat needs eating. When you ask where the cutlery is, he gives a little chuckle, grabbing out two sets for you and him, as well as your daughter's little blue Peter Rabbit spoon and tray. He helps you dish up dinner, and when you go to sit at the table, he steers you into the lounge.

"You're not worried about food on the couch?" You squeak in utter confusion, to which he gives a laugh and plops down on one end, placing your daughters tray before her where she sits in the middle of the two of you, happily scarfing down her dinner and watching whatever Simon could find on such short notice.

When you inevitably fall asleep on his couch, your daughter doing the same, Simon sets a blanket over the two of you before going into the kitchen to call the gas company, putting down his card details to pay for the new bottle. He's happy to cough up fifty quid that he's sure you don't have if it means not seeing his girls cry again.

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outoftheseine · 6 months

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- SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY FIC RECS -

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

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

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

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

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

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

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

↳ by @cordeliawhohung

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

↳ by @thewriterg

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

↳ by @qwimchii

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

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

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

↳ by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted

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

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

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

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

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

↳ by @undercoverpena (angst, feelings, explicit)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↳ by @cmncisspnandmore

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

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

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

his girls • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

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

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

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

book boyfriend • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @stargirlrchive (fluff)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

adoration • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (dad!simon, fluff)

simon 'ghost' riley x sensitive!gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff and nswf content)

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

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

simon says • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (smut)

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

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

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

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

antique soldiers • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @mangowafflesss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

welcome home • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

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

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

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

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

↳ by @lvlyghost (angst, hurt/comfort)

protective • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

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

return • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

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

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starzshopoflove · 26 days

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Who's your daddy? (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,literally just me projecting onto the reader, reader is kind of a pervert drabble! This will be multi part if you guys want!! (WC:550)

Simon does his best to be as involved in his son's life while off deployment, with the little guy living with his uncle Soaps mom and sisters while his dads gone. It's always the little things he wishes his dad did when he was younger. His worst fear is being anything like his own father

This man is literally superdad, present at every PTA meeting he can be, makes cupcakes for the class on his son's birthday, every little league game, pick up and drop off, anything and everything he can do he will

His son will babble mindlessly about anything because well,, he's 4 that's what children do. So Simon doesn't process much of it as actual information, more like vague “hms” “that's nice' ' and “ah oh really?”. Now when his son started to repeatedly bring up this “Miss” Simon assumed that he’s made a friend at school which made him pretty happy since he never had many when he was younger. It sounded dumb but he just assumed Miss was short for Missy or whatever kid name

Casual asks of “How was school” being met with his boy saying “Miss gave me a sticker today” or “Miss made cookies today”. So you can imagine his surprise when he saw a random woman in the most lung collapsing sundress and cardigan holding his son looked at him and smiled while his son just waved and cheered.

Simon is guilty of occasionally being late for pick ups but usually his boy is inside safe in the lobby so seeing you holding him would be more stressful if he wasn't a tank of a man that could maim an entire army single handedly, especially when you were literally basking in sunlight holding his child in a flowy pink floral sundress with a crochet cardigan, I mean seriously don't you know its a crime to stop traffic

“Hi! Hi daddy! Miss waited with me for you, see!” Handing off the little guy to his dad you were also choking up, you became a teacher to help children learn not to ogle at their dads, but my god did it make up for your criminally low salary. The sight of a giant man in those loose worn out jeans, that tight white shirt stretched over his muscles bulging out of the fabric, and those eyes that look like they could melt you.

You could already feel the blush creeping off your neck and honestly you prayed to god with all your might that you could run back into your car, turn the AC on blast and fan whatever blush was on your face off. “You must be Mister Riley right? Hunter is a pleasure to have in class” You know what else would be a pleasure? Your di-

“Im sure he is” Oh fuck that accent you could practically feel your knees buckling just imagine how much better it would sound saying “You’re alright girl” all deep and gravelly while hes nibbling on your ear

Needless to say Simon started showing up to pickups more often and you slowly started wearing shorter sundresses.

#cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #john price #cod simon riley

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yawnderu · 8 months

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Simon ''Ghost'' Riley - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prompt List

Sex Pollen - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

After being hit by the experimental drug, Ghost can't get enough of your body.

You make it hard to be a Ghost - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

You write him poetry; Ghost rejects it every single time with a heavy heart until his walls start to crumble down.

Longing - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

The simple ways Ghost shows you how much he cares with his actions while you both yearn for each other's love.

Together - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

Ghost finds strength with your love in a near-death experience together.

Cold - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader - PART I

You come back to base a changed and scarred soldier after being held captive for a year, Ghost is desperate to help bring you back to be the woman he loved.

I'll meet you here — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Simon finds peace for the first time after retirement.

Character Study - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley

In-depth character analysis on Simon ''Ghost'' Riley based on the comic, campaigns, and voice lines from multi-player.

Idyllic - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader - Part I

content: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, your honor, they love each other.

Tainted - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Ghost became judge, jury and executioner.

CW: paranoia, gore, anxiety?

Salvatore - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

You join Simon for a late-night smoke, bad dad jokes ensue.

Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

No one knows how much violence it took to be this gentle.

Afraid - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

content: angst with a happy ending, mentions of death and injuries, hurt/comfort.

Monster | Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Based on the violent sexual fantasies Simon ''Ghost'' Riley experiences after being tortured by Roba.

CW: noncon, darkfic, mind break, forced deepthroat, forced penetration, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex, give in.

Perfect Life — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

The first night home with the baby.

Adoration — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: fluff, pregnant!reader, horrible dad jokes.

Living Dead Man - Zombie!Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

What is a husband but a man with a rotting body you can barely recognize?

CW: body horror, gore, tongue kiss with a dead man(?), is she wrong? morally, angst with a happy ending.

Beacon — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Cozy day in the life of a soldier and his pregnant wife.

Birthday Boy — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

content: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

Mine - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I Part II | Part III

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Believer - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

In which Simon believes he's truly undeserving of love, moved only by your stubbornness.

K-9 — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Chapter I

Simon Riley and his pathetic efforts to get close to the new medic will earn him a scar or two

Simon Riley is in love with an uninterested, tired medic.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley fluff

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nsharks · 1 year

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nine —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: no comment

The beam gave a nasty cut to your hand.

Tetanus, blood, infections— more threats.

You sit on a rock by the river to fix it up. Before you can dab on the hydrogen peroxide from your new med kit, Blue insists on doing it for you— soft fingertips against your broken skin. She is by far a gentler nurse than her father. You focus on her pink cheeks and scrunched nose as she concentrates. It helps you ignore the sting.

"You scared the shit out of me for a second there, Twix.”

"Sorry. I guess I need to work on my balance."

She gives a stilted laugh. The gauze comes next, just a thin layer since the bleeding has already stopped.

"Thanks for asking him to help me," you add in a whisper. You smile. "I don't think I've ever had a friend save my life so many times."

Blue cuts the gauze and begins tying it off. "I didn't actually have to ask him this time, you know. Like I said, he doesn’t hate you.”

You glance to where Ghost has taken the short break to lean against a tree and drink some water, pale jaw and pink lips exposed. An actual human hides under all that gear and horrifying mask. It annoys you that he doesn't just take it off.

You look back at her, eyes rolling. “You're lying."

She closes the med kit and shrugs. “Friends don't lie."

The afternoon sun bleeds white light over your cheeks as the three of you keep walking. Just meters away from the river, Ghost points out a small cabin. One that hunters used back in the day, you bet. He says it could be a good place to stay for the night. The scent of the rushing water nearby should do some to mask your human scent.

Rolling hills take place of the trees. To the west, you can see the faint outline of mountains dipped in white snow. Well, as much of mountains as you can find in England. They are not nearly as tall as the ones your parents used to take you skiing to in France.

You grow quiet and let Blue do all the talking. Maybe you are embarrassed after almost falling into the river.

Just when she asks - How much further? - something strange pops up in the distance. White medical tents— well, you assume they were once white. They are now torn and grey, with some blue crates beneath them. Confusion swells in your chest and you can't help but speak up.

"Why is this all here?" you ask, your boots stepping over some stray medical tools. Scalpels, tweezers, and syringes. Pressed into the rich earth like fossils. You would pick them up if they weren't rusted past the point of being useful.

"I don't know," Blue answers. "Ghost?"

"Emergency medical camp the military set up," he says.

"After shit happened?" she asks.

He gives a curt nod as he looks around at the remnants. "Those that were left were tryin' to help survivors in the first few days. Didn't last long, though."

"Is that what your friends were doing after you ditched them?"

"Told you, kid. They weren't my friends."

"Alright, teammates. Whatever. Were they helping with injured people here?" she asks curiously.

"A few of them were.”

Blue looks at you. "Twix, did I ever tell you about that?"

"Um. About what?"

"Well, Ghost was supposed to be working when shit happened," she raises her brows and juts a thumb at him. "But he snuck away from his post to get all our stuff and come find me and my mum."

You swallow at the mention of her mom and avoid looking at Ghost. "Snuck away?"

"Yeah," she nods, "It's called dessert."

"Desertion," he gruffly corrects her.

"What?" you ask.

"He abandoned his assignment," she explains. "But he always says he would do it again if he had to. Anyway, he used to talk to his teammates on his radio to see how they were and stuff— what was happening. But then they got too far away for it to work."

Of course Ghost had a radio.

Paul had one, too. You can remember huddling around that radio like it was a mouthpiece for some god. The static grew choppier and choppier over the first few days. The channels dwindled. Eventually, it stopped working altogether and you didn't learn much about what happened in the outside world. You did learn that London was one of the quickest cities to succumb to the infection. Then, Paris, Bangkok, and Chicago.

Everywhere.

You process the new information as you keep walking through the tents, peering into some opened crates to see if anything is left— nothing is.

Now you know Ghost left his post when he found out about the virus. He stocked up on supplies and then got Blue and her mom. By the way Blue mentions her, it must be an old loss. How long did her mother survive with them, then? Did she use to live in the cabin with them?

You don’t know why your stomach grows tight, but the questions in your brain fade once the military base comes into view.

"Finally," Blue sighs rather dramatically.

A high, chain-link fence surrounds the place. There are a few buildings and some abandoned vehicles that look like jeeps. The fence has multiple gaps cut into it so climbing is unnecessary. Ghost leads the way. You continue sniffing the air. With your bandaged hand, you keep your bow poised and subconsciously walk closer to their footsteps.

Ghost takes you to the main building in the center. The British flag flutters beside it on a pole, faded and as meaningless as the one sewn on Ghost’s bicep.

"Are we going through the barracks again this time?" Blue perks up.

"We have to go through 'em to get to the armory,” he says.

"Cool. There might be some good shit left behind."

There isn't much good shit, actually.

You don't know what the other military base they went to was like, but this one is unsettling and seems to be ransacked. Sunlight pours in through the shattered windows. Scattered papers and strewn bones decorate the tile floors. Thick cobwebs hang in the corners.

As you walk through the hallway of old dorms, Blue and Ghost stop looking in them after the first four turn out to contain only tipped-over cots, walls smeared with old blood, and even a few scampering vermin that make her yelp and grab hold of Ghost's arm.

He grows stiffer than usual. You don’t have to pry off the skull mask to know what he is thinking. Ghost is not the only person who thought of coming here. If these rooms are mostly empty, then what is left in the armory?

Still, you check out a few more of them on your own as they walk up ahead. You rummage through closets and drawers. You find three pairs of men's socks. More useful than one might think.

In one room, you kneel down by the unkempt cot to dig a black backpack out from under it. You can’t believe that Ghost, as big as he is, ever slept on these things. The backpack’s zipper catches as you try to open it, the metal teeth rusted, so you cut a hole in the fabric with your knife. Inside, you find another military-grade knife to add to your arsenal and some wrapped ready-to-eats.

When you check the closet, the sight of a full skeleton causes you to jump back in a startled step, a few rats running out between your boots.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, noticing a bullet hole in the skull. A handgun lies beside the body, but you discover the magazine to be empty. Whatever bullet it once had was likely spent on this person's suicide. You stick it in your bag, anyway. A preserved uniform hangs loose on the bones. There is a mouth-sized tear in the forearm of the right sleeve, fitting for a bite. In the breast pocket, a silver chain spills out. Curiously, you grab it. A dog tag with an engraved name catches the light. John MacTavish. You run a thumb over the letters.

“Sorry, John.”

You decide to respectfully put it back in the pocket, and head out, satisfied enough with your modest finds. It’s not like you own as much as Ghost does. You leave the room and run to catch back up with them.

"You okay? Find anything?" Blue asks.

"Not much," you quietly admit. "A knife and some new socks."

"Finally. Your old ones are starting to stink," she remarks with a playful smirk.

You scrunch your nose at her, making a face. “Gee, thanks."

She returns the teasing gesture just before Ghost’s arm ushers her behind him.

The moment he does, your guard rises back up. You slap an arrow onto your bow. You smell them before you see them. Four - no, five - drag out of opened doorways up ahead along with a cacophony of whistled moans. Most are still dressed in the same military uniforms as the skeleton you found. One isn't wearing anything at all. It’s disgusting.

Ghost doesn't bother to let Blue practice this time.

He shoots the faster, fresher one first as it runs up to them. For the slower ones, he saves his ammo and opts for the axe. The sight of him effortlessly striking their skulls is almost enough to distract you. Almost. Your fingers release the string and send a headshot to the last one. It is a perfect shot. An arrow straight through the milky-white eye. One of your best.

You meet his eyes just as he slips the axe back to his waist, shooting him a raised brow. The two of you hold an awkwardly long stare-off. Though you loathe to admit it, you hope for some type of approval - for once - but all he gives is a short nod.

Blue retrieves the arrow for you and you tuck it back into your quiver.

"Great aim, Twix," she quips. "Where did you learn how to use your bow?"

"My old friend taught me a bit," you say as the three of you step over the fallen corpses.

"What was his name again?"

"Paul."

"Oh, right." She pauses, and then: "Were you having sex with him?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Ghost says.

"What?" She peers up at him.

Before he can say anything else, you answer with a light flush crawling up your neck, “No, I wasn’t. He was just my friend.”

The three of you make it to the armory.

The aluminum door is already parted open. Ghost clicks on a flashlight and gives the room a quick sweep of fluorescent light before entering.

A number of pried-open crates and olive-green cabinets litter the inside. Drawers hang open like a tornado ripped through. A few stray rifles lay scattered on the floor. Ghost picks up each one and checks for cartridges. Empty. Each rifle is thrown back on the floor with more force than the previous. He needs more ammo, not more guns.

Whatever was in this armory is gone. This truth hangs heavy in the air. The mood shifts. Blue doesn’t talk. Billows of growing frustration roll off Ghost's body as he continues to search through every crevice and every drawer for almost an hour.

You know what he is feeling, even if he half-expected this.

It is a feeling that made you cry in the empty pharmacy. For Ghost, it ends up driving a clenched fist into one of the cabinets, dented metal left in its wake. He swears explosively. Another shudder runs through your spine, stealing your breath, but it feels far different from the one his soft voice invited.

"Is there... is there anywhere else we can check, Dad?" Blue speaks up softly. “Maybe in all those cars outside?”

He takes a moment to breathe before answering. "We don't have time to check ‘em all.”

“Well, maybe we could come back in the morning and look a bit more?”

“Maybe,” he says, but you read the tone in his voice. It is unlikely there is ammo left in the vehicles, and even if there is, it is definitely not as much as he was hoping to have found in here.

Before leaving, he stuffs one of the rifles in his backpack. An uncomfortable silence consumes the journey back through the hall.

You make it outside again. The afternoon has aged. You need to get back to that hunting cabin by the river before the threat of dark.

Ghost guides you back towards the fence.

You hear Blue's soft humming. The flap of the old flag. Your own steady heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, he stops and grabs Blue's arm to bring her to a halt beside him. He looks around. Confused, you scan the view up ahead of you, but all that is there are a few of those military jeeps and the fence you entered through. You sniff the air. It doesn't smell particularly awful.

Then, the cause for Ghost's unease arrives loud in your ears.

A single gunshot sounds from a direction you can't discern. Your heart stutters. The suddenness freezes you for a moment. In your peripheral, you think you catch a brush of movement in some bushes to your right.

Ghost quickly pulls Blue behind one of the vehicles for cover. Only when you feel the rush of another bullet whizzing past your shoulder do your legs finally move— so fast that your feet catch on the ground and you stumble down beside them. Your knees dig into the earth as you land on your hands, but you quickly lift up and press your shoulder against the side of the car.

You choke. "Ghost… people."

People are fucking shooting at us, is what you mean to say. Panic steals your voice.

Who? How many?

Another bullet ricochets off the other side of the car, clanking against the metal. And then another. Glass shatters.

Ghost doesn't respond to you. Underneath the loud sounds, a soft voice whimpers. You finally look to where Blue is propped up against the large tire, Ghost kneeling at her front. His hand is tightly clamped over the side of her right thigh, and it is now that you notice the blood soaking through her jeans and his glove.

Blue's blood.

Crimson and glistening.

She whimpers again and her fingers twist the fabric of his coat.

"Dad, it— it feels like it's burning," she cries out, her cheeks turning wet from a sudden onslaught of tears.

"Fuck. I know, baby. I know."

She flinches when another gunshot rings out. "W-What do we do?"

You try to form a proper thought— try to make sense of everything. Before you can, Ghost grabs your hand, firmly replacing his hold on her wound with yours. The warm liquid immediately drenches your palm and you swallow, pressing as hard as you can, attempting to pack it crudely.

He speaks decisively. "Stay here with her. Wrap it up.”

"Ghost, you don't know how many fucking people there are," you say, panic turning your voice into something unrecognizable as you place your other hand on his arm. The muscles tense and leap.

“I didn't fucking ask you. I am telling you. Now do it."

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to protest again, but you wouldn’t even if he did because you fully realize that this is the best course of action. He needs to get rid of them. You need to tend to her wound. A strangled cry leaves Blue's lips when he departs. You coax her with soft hushes.

"It’s okay. He'll be right back.”

Urgently, you sling the bag off your shoulder and take out your own med kit. You don’t think twice about it. Not for a second. Not when all you can think about is making sure her soft, blue eyes stay open. When you move your hand from her thigh, the sight worries and relieves you at the same time.

You don't know much about bullet wounds, but you know where the femoral artery runs, and by the looks of it, it was missed. Still, a nice chunk of her flesh has been torn, revealing obliterated muscle. You don't see any bone or bits of metal, but it is hard to see much of anything with all the blood.

With fingers that shake, you use the same gauze she nursed your hand with to begin tightly dressing her thigh. As you do, your eyes flash up and around in a feeble search for where Ghost could be, but you can’t see him from behind the vehicle.

"Is it bad?" she asks, voice laced with a tremor. When your gaze returns to her, you notice that pale lips replace her usual rosy-pink ones. Her forehead is sheened with sweat.

"It looks worse than it is," you say.

"Are you... are you telling me the truth?"

"I am. Promise," you whisper. "Friends don't lie, right?"

Sporadic gunfire continues to pierce your ears. It sounds more distant now. You have no idea if it belongs to Ghost or whoever these people are. You push the uncertainties away, assuring yourself that he can handle however many of them there are, and focus on tying off the gauze, desperate to keep her blood in.

Blue suddenly blurts out, “Twix.”

You look up and meet her eyes. They are pointed at something behind you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #zombies

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obsolescent · 9 months

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You’re gonna hate seeing my name every time you open this app from how much I do and will resquest you 😭

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJG8npPb/

Here me out. This but^

Single mother y/n with a kid and ghost just came back from a mission and needed to buy something for his small house and sees y/n struggling to pick some heavy things up while her kid keeps laughing and saying everything like the girl in the video. i have so many other requests I’d love to because you’re writing is probably my favorite /srs. hope you have a nice end of the month. Love ya 🩷

The Necessity of Saints

Part Two (NSFW)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Ough, I had fun writing this out. Love these prompts so much, you don't understand! I will never tire of requests I promise, they fill me with so much motivation and I'm so happy I'm one of your favorites, that means so much to me!! I hope you enjoy this and hope you’re having the best month!! I am not opposed to writing a spicier second part to this, just let me know ♡ Once again I am thinking about Simon showing off his muscles and being happy to help someone in need.

Content warnings: Feminine reader, reader uses she/her pronouns and uses mom, your daughter is named Rhea.

“Good Lord, why does wood have to be so HEAVY,” you grunt out, trying unsuccessfully to pull the wooden beam out of the pile. Your kid stands off to the side, stifling her giggles with her hand, finding much enjoyment in your predicament. You stand up and stretch your limbs, getting ready for another go at it. You take a deep breath, bending with your knees, and begin pulling again, with more force behind it.

Sweating dripping off your brow, you continue to tug at the piece of wood, pleading with it to just MOVE. “Can someone help my mama?” Your kid finally yells out, causing you to whirl towards her with a panicked look on your face. “Rhea!” You hiss, seeing your phone in her hands, recording your ordeal. “Please, someone, my mama won’t ask for help and she needs it!” Rhea exclaims, drawing out the end of ‘please’.

“Stop filming me struggling, dammit!” You try to contain your own laughter, hurrying back to continue pulling, hoping to finally get it to move before anyone hears your daughter’s yelling, not wanting an encounter with a random stranger. Rhea continues to hoot and holler, hoping to garner attention to you both. Your face now red from a mixture of stifled laughter, exertion, and embarrassment.

“What’s all this, then?” A gravelly voice booms out, halting yours and your daughter's movements. You both turn towards the voice, finding a large, tall man, standing off to the side, hands on his hips. His brown eyes glitter with what looks to be amusement, probably been watching quietly for a while. Your ears burn, straightening up and wiping your hands off on your shirt.

“I’m so sorry to bother your shopping, please ignore my–” “My mama won’t ask for help and she needs it! Please help her!” Your daughter cuts you off. You put your hands over your face, groaning. “Is that all?” He asks, raising a blond eyebrow at your kid. She nods, finally putting the phone down after succeeding in her mission.

“Alright then, let’s have at it,” British accent now noticeable after the initial shock, he walks over to the wood you’re standing in front of, easily lifting a beam into his arms. “How many?” He asks, looking towards you. You stand there in shock, at how easily he was able to lift it, to his bulging muscles now able to be seen through his shirt.

“J-just that one, sir. I need it cut into three 6-inch pieces, though,” You stutter out, realizing your gaze had been on him for too long. That glint in his eyes doesn’t go away, you assume he noticed the staring. “To the wood-cutting area, then?” He turns, walking off in the direction of the wood-cutting services. You and your daughter share a look before scurrying after him.

Once you arrive, you tell the associate what you want, and they begin the process. The three of you stand off to the side while they cut, looking over at the man, you begin speaking. “I really appreciate what you did for us, thank you…?” “Simon,” He offers his name, you giving your own and your daughter’s. “Thank you, Simon. Is there anything I can do to repay you for helping?” You ask, reaching for your bag. “Don’t worry about it,” He grunts out, walking forward to grab the pieces they’ve finished with, loading them onto a cart.

Once they’re done, he wheels the cart towards the checkout, paying for the wood. “Oh! Sir, you don’t have to–""Don’t worry about it, love,” He says again, adding ‘love’ to the end of this one, causing your cheeks to redden. Once the transaction is complete, he pulls the cart outside. “The car park is pretty big, you can pull your car up to the entrance, I’ll load it.” He says, You nod, you and Rhea walk quickly to your car, getting inside and buckling in.

You pull your car around to the front of the store, opening the trunk. He begins loading the wood inside, making quick work of the now smaller pieces. Once done, he comes around to your side of the car. You roll your window down, going to thank him again, when he holds his hand up. “Could’ve hurt yourself. Just ask for help next time, yeah? Don’t have to do everything alone,” He says, causing your mouth to fall open, like he read your mind. “But, if you’re privy to certain help, you can always give me a ring,” He hands over a card with a number on it, with his full name, ‘Simon Riley’.

“Thank you, Simon. I’ll be sure to let you know,” You say, bashfully. He smirks, “Have a lovely day, you two,” He says, before walking back inside the store. You roll your window up, pulling away from the entrance. You’re driving for a bit, both silent, before Rhea finally speaks up, “He was really cute, and nice. You should text him.” You sputter. “Rhea! I have no idea who he even is–""Get to know him! He was, like, totally checking you out, and so were you,” She says, looking over at your blushing face. “I don’t know…” You trail off. You hadn’t done much dating in a very long time. Not having much time for it between your daughter and work. Now that Rhea is a teenager, maybe you could have some time to find a relationship?

Seemingly reading your mind (ya’ll gotta stop doing that), she adds, “I’m old enough to watch myself, go have some fun!” You roll your eyes, a smile forming on your face. Maybe he wouldn’t be against seeing you under different circumstances?

Arriving home and maneuvering the now much easier to handle wooden pieces, you set them in a pile inside the garage, for your upcoming project. Once inside and settled in, you pull out the card and contemplate what you’ll say. You add his number to your contacts and pull up a message screen for him. You let him know it’s you and add,

‘I would really like to get to know you more, if you’re not opposed?’

A few minutes later, he responds.

‘Not at all opposed, love. Just let me know what time is best for you x’

#o fics #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #ghost cod #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley fluff

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alwaysshallow · 9 months

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heyyy!! i'm isa, in my early 20s, writing silly little fanfics for call of duty fandom. my inbox is open for any ramblings <3

my blog is 18+ only; with that, i reblog nsfw and dark content.

fics recs are here.

AO3

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taken anon emojis: 🐢, 💸, 🦌, 🩰, 💋, 💎, 🪐, 🪷, 🦷, 🪼, 🍦🫐🧊

general asking tag

higher!ranked reader x ghost masterlist

In progress:

coffee at midnight -> John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader [series]

Military consumes your private time - to the point that you pretty much can't live without it. All of the boys from Task Force 141 are just like brothers, not only best friends – you know that you can trust them with your whole heart.

Somehow, one of them manages to steal it completely, and that's on Johnny MacTavish. Over months, you learn that's harder and harder to ignore that burning feeling in your heart.

gorgeous -> Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader [series]

You're a vet with a pretty simple life.

One day though, things changes, when a big guy with a skull mask enters your clinic with a small, ginger kitten in his hands.

pictures in frames, kisses on cheeks -> John Price x f!reader [small series]

You have a simple routine. You drive your kid to his school, you work, you go back home with your kid. Nothing too fancy, but it's life as a single mom.

The moment John Price shows up in your neighborhood, the routine crumbles apart.

or: single mom x price

Planned (not in specific order):

new year's day -> John "Soap" MacTavish x gn!reader [oneshot]

message in a bottle -> Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader [series]

untitled fake!dating -> John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

untitled higher!ranked reader -> Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Finished:

delicate -> Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader [oneshot]

because of you -> Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader [oneshot]

silver and gold -> John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader [oneshot]

the love we have -> Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader [oneshot]

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand -> Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader [oneshot]

how you get the girl -> Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader [oneshot]

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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When Your Blood Meets Mine - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part twelve of "soft spot"

taglist

it's scary.

warnings: anxiety, talk/thoughts of abortion, medical talk,

wc: 5.9k

You would have given anything in the world to have your mom hold you.

You wished she was just a simple phone call away and not buried in a rotting grave out of your reach. You wished you could hear her voice, hear her tell you that it was all going to be okay, that you would survive this too just like you had everything else. But she was long gone. Nothing more than drying bones in a coffin. The only comfort you would receive from her would be whatever your memory held, which at that point wasn’t much. Fond memories of her had decayed just as much as she had.

So you were alone, which was such a strange feeling because it had been such a long time since you felt so isolated from everyone else. Even the apartment didn’t seem as welcoming as usual. It was as if the walls knew you shouldn’t have been there, panicking in silence as pure anxiety rattled your chest, but you couldn’t go back to work. The idea of facing Simon while you harbored a secret like that made your stomach twist so violently you felt queasy. That sickness festering in you had been no illness at all, but a child.

Simon’s child.

It wasn’t supposed to be possible. Simon’s work was important and demanding, and both of you were in agreement that having a kid wasn’t the right thing to do at that stage in your lives. He would leave for weeks, or even months at a time for missions, and he made it clear he would never want to leave you alone with a child. You had been on birth control for the last few years because of it and of course, of course, it failed. But it made everything else make sense. Your pregnancy explained all of the symptoms you had confused with the same sickness your mother had. Your achy, tender breasts were not sore just from the fat necrosis, but because of the hormone changes. The complete fatigue and brain fog that ravaged your body wasn’t from some cancer eating away at you, but the child growing inside of you.

Your anxiety began to get the better of you, and before it was able to choke you, you wandered out of the entryway and into the living room where you collapsed on the couch with your face in your hands. There was no time for you to think about all the signs you had missed the last few weeks because you only had a few hours until Simon would be home. You were going to have to tell him, but you had no idea how. Simply admitting it didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel like a cause for celebration, either. Neither of you had ever talked about children, save for the conversation about how that time in your lives wasn’t a good time to have them. Would he want you to get rid of it? Should you get rid of it? After everything you had been through, would you truly be stable enough to take care of a kid? Or would your ever burning anger eventually turn you into the same monster your father had become?

No. No, you wouldn’t make a good mother at all.

Just as your despair began to manifest in wet streaks along your face, an innocent chirp caught your attention. Pulling your hands from your face, you were met by Boo’s empty and innocent expression as he stared up at you from the floor with large, yellow eyes. Despite your tears, you did your best to muster a smile as you patted your lap, inviting him up on the couch with you. Without hesitation he jumped up and made himself comfortable at your side. His purring was loud and crackly, and as he leaned against you he reached a small, deformed paw toward you where he rested on your stomach.

“You little jerk,” you said with a trembling lip and a breathy laugh. “You knew all this time and didn’t tell me.”

Completely unaware of your emotional turmoil, all he did was coo in response as if to confirm your suspicions before he snuggled even closer and closed his eyes. It was all so innocent and pure that for a single, fleeting moment, things almost felt like they were going to be okay. After all, surely there was nothing worse than being trapped in a basement.

But your absence didn’t go unnoticed for long. What turned into an appointment that was supposed to take an hour or two quickly turned into half the day, and then some. For a while, Simon had thought nothing of it until he wandered into the front office to file paperwork only to realize his favorite secretary wasn’t at her desk. The plaque that read the name Riley sat on an abandoned station, and as he put his papers in your basket, he realized your computer was shut down. Not only that, but the tower was cold to the touch.

You had never returned from your appointment.

Unwelcome thoughts clouded his skull as he marched out of the room and towards his own office. Earlier that morning you had done your best to insist that you were fine despite your trepidation, that you didn’t need him to come with you. He was foolish enough to believe you. You had acted so unlike yourself the entire time leading up to your appointment. Always anxious and jumpy with hands that refused to leave the ache in your side alone. And now you were gone, which wasn’t a good sign. He should have known better. Should have convinced you to let him come with you because he should have been there to support you even if you claimed the visit was quick and simple.

As the door to his office closed behind him, the idea that he was wrong about those lumps being fat necrosis overwhelmed his mind. He wasn’t a fucking doctor, he only told you about it because it made sense at the time and he wanted to ease your mind, to normalize it, to not make you feel like a spectacle. But the fear that it was something more, that something was wrong, gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t felt since he yanked Bukin off of you all those years ago.

Simon didn’t even bother to sit at his desk before he yanked his phone free from his pocket. Within moments both your name and number illuminated his screen and there was no hesitation in calling you. The line rang for only a few moments before your hoarse voice greeted him on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Doin’ alright, love?”

There was no point in beating around the bush. Simon was worried, terribly so, and it almost felt silly. It wasn’t as if you had vanished off of the face of the earth or anything, but there was this gut feeling that ravaged his senses, rendering him unable to do anything except panic.

“I’m fine, Simon,” you said with a humorous giggle. But there was something else to your tone. A tiredness that not even your little laugh could cover. Not exactly what he would consider fine.

“You had me worried when I couldn’t find you in the office,” he admitted. “Are you still at the doctors?”

“No, I uh, I went home,” you admitted. “They did a biopsy in the office so I’m feeling a little sore. Thought it was a good idea to take the rest of the day off.”

Simon hummed, half in agreement and half in thought. “What did the doctor say?”

“She thinks you’re right. Just fat necrosis. She just did the biopsy to be safe, but she’s confident it’ll come back fine, so…”

So that was it. Everything was alright, except somehow it wasn’t. There was something about the tone of your voice that was off. It reminded him of all the other times he tried to draw information out of you, yet you hesitated too much to fully get it out. You weren’t lying, and he knew that, but there was something else you hid from him, something he wasn’t sure he could get you to admit over the phone.

There wasn’t much left to say besides a quick I love you and a goodbye, and yet when the line went silent Simon couldn’t say that the achy feeling in his stomach was remedied. Between your tone and your lack of communication throughout the day, something was deeply wrong. Something that he couldn’t fix while he was on base.

Work could wait. He needed to get home to you.

Soon after he shoved his phone into his pocket, Simon swung open the door to his office only to be met by the confused and surprised face of Johnny. His arm was half raised as if he had been ready to knock on the door, but he awkwardly lowered it as Simon stared at him in the doorway.

“You read minds now?” he asked humorously.

“Always could,” Simon quipped.

Really, he didn’t have time for pleasantries or conversation, even if it was with Johnny. Sure, it wouldn’t kill him, but the only thing that consumed his mind was getting back to you. You needed him and he knew that, even if you refused to admit it over the phone, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Johnny then asked.

“Now’s not a good time,” Simon excused.

Confused at his lieutenant's quick response, a look of concern overwhelmed Johnny’s face. “Everything alright?” he questioned as he stepped to the side, giving Simon enough room to fully exit his office and shut the door behind him.

“Dunno,” he replied, “tryin’ to figure that out.”

“Is it Spook?”

Simon shouldn’t have been so surprised that the man was able to figure out what ailed him so quickly. After years of working with one another, they had grown close enough to know what made one another tick, and you were Simon’s reason for everything. For fighting, for coming home, for breaking a man’s arm. It wasn’t a secret anymore, but a well known fact Johnny could sniff out in an instance.

“She’s fine, I think,” Simon excused. “Just gotta bad feeling ‘bout somethin’ that I’d like to check out.”

Sallow. That was Johnny’s immediate thought. The bastard had been slithering around base with poisonous intent nearly unchecked for the last week, which was his whole reason for seeking out Simon in the first place. But if something was worrying him this much to the point where the man would leave work early, perhaps it was best he not add fuel to the already growing fire. He just hoped that he was wrong.

“Go take care of her,” Johnny said as he nodded down the hallway. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Good man,” Simon said blankly.

Johnny stayed standing in front of Simon’s office as he watched his hulking frame vanish past the corner. Whatever was going on, he knew it wasn’t good. Really, he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard about Sallow either resigning or being dishonorably discharged within the next hour, but whatever happened, he just hoped you were alright. But it was a foolish thing to worry about. He had seen what Simon was willing and able to go through if it meant ensuring your safety. Johnny knew he had nothing to worry about.

After your phone call with Simon, you weren’t able to sit still. Idle hands left you with a pang of panic in your chest, and instead of sitting on the couch to let it fester, you cleaned nearly every inch of the apartment. Despite the throbbing pain in your boob, dishes got washed, countertops were wiped down, and you nearly started a deep clean of the bathroom until you thought about the chemicals. Should you expose yourself to that stuff while you're pregnant? Certainly it wouldn’t be good for the baby. Would it even matter? Surely a few chemicals wouldn’t have hurt the baby if you decided to get an abortion anyway. Fuck, how terrible of a thought was that?

The only thing that was able to stop your restless hands was the sound of a key turning the lock at the front door. Leaving the myriad of cleaning supplies on the bathroom counter, you dashed out of the room and greeted Simon in the entryway before he even had time to shut and lock the door behind him. He didn’t do much to hide the confusion on his face as he removed his mask and stowed it in his pocket.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he approached you like a skittish cat.

Warmth flooded through you as his fingers grazed your arm, and you realized just how much you craved his touch and yearned to be held. Your body moved on its own accord and you wrapped your arms around your husband and buried your face into his chest. Your gesture was not at all unwelcome, yet seemed to only confuse him further. Still, his arms embraced you tightly and he kissed the top of your head with a deep breath.

“A little sore,” you finally replied.

“Makes sense,” he hummed.

Silence followed. Your secret began to decompose so quickly you were certain Simon would be able to sniff it out before your mouth would admit it. Maybe that was for the best. His arms were so warm and safe, and you were certain that if you tried to look him in the eyes to tell him the truth you’d turn into dust. But he could feel the hesitation weighing your body down, and a sob nearly escaped you when he squeezed you closer.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, voice soft but still rumbly in his chest.

All it took was that one question to get the waterworks started, and you felt an odd shame about how your tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. Even after everything you had gone through, even after the basement, the orchard, everything, the scariest thing to you was still talking. It was sharing the darkest parts of you that you attempted to smother with as much kindness as you could muster, or keeping your grief chained so tightly that the only proof it existed was the rattling of its shackles.

But this secret was no such dark thing. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion where he’d sweep you off your feet into a kiss and you would giggle like you didn’t have a care in the world. At least, that’s what the movies would have you believe. So then why did you feel so scared?

“I’m pregnant.”

Your confession echoed throughout Simon’s body; you could feel it in the way the muscles in his back tensed and the movement of his chest ceased. His arms loosened around you so that he could get a better look at your tear stained face, and you almost broke when his eyes met yours. A storm of emotions swirled in his eyes so fiercely you were unable to tell exactly what he felt, but there wasn’t anger. There wasn’t anger, and you knew there never would be, and yet you still felt relieved.

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it myself,” you said, voice trembling from the influx of conflicting emotions. “As soon as the doctor told me it made so much sense. Fat necrosis isn’t supposed to hurt but with the changes of hormones everything was sore and that’s why I’ve been so tired. I attributed my missed period to stress and, you know, I was on birth control so I never even would have imagined that… I’m- I’m sorry. I know that- I know we talked about how kids aren’t a good idea for us and I don’t want to ruin work for you and- and I’m rambling, Simon please shut me up.”

So he did. Your husband shut you up in the only way he knew how: smothering you with as much love as he could. His hands found your cheeks where he wiped your tears with his thumbs before he kissed the top of your head once more. You rested your hands over his to just hold him there, to feel him. It was so soft, and yet despite everything he still hadn’t spoken.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated as your fingers curled into his.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mumbled against your hairline.

“But I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Doing as he asked, you tilted your head to look at him as he pulled his lips away from your head. His eyes were still impossible to read, and his face refused to reveal any emotion, positive or otherwise. It was a little unfair of you to expect that he’d have a set reaction other than shock, though. This was quite literally life changing for the both of you, so Simon was bound to be left at least a little speechless. Still, it was so unlike him to be at a loss for words. To not have an answer.

“You’re not ruinin’ anything. We’re in this together, yeah? We’ll figure somethin’ out,” he said as he continued to cradle your face.

“I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if we should keep it, or… or if…”

A cry rattled your body before you were able to finish your sentence, and Simon gently shushed you before he enveloped you in his arms again. Somehow the two of you ended up on the couch, which was something you were grateful for as you doubted you’d be able to stand upright any longer with the emotions rendering your mind virtually useless. Simon sat you in his lap where he cradled you in his arms, offering you comfort as you sobbed for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, the thoughts in your mind waned from a suffocating storm to a dull buzz, and your body no longer shook with your sniffing. As if on cue, a tiny meow demanded your attention, and you felt a weight appear in your lap. A furry mess of black and white made its home in the comfort of your presence as Boo began to purr. Simon hummed as he reached to scratch behind the furrball’s ears, causing his purring to intensify while he attempted to rub his face against his fingers.

“He’s here to help,” Simon chuckled.

“He’s a prick,” you retorted, only half serious. “He’s known this whole time and didn’t tell me.”

As if to prove your point, Boo moved away from Simon’s hand in order to lovingly bash his head against your stomach. Giggling, you placed your hand on top of him as he nuzzled closer to you. Even with the little ray of sunshine in your lap, there was nothing that sweet cat could do that would completely rid you of that twisting feeling in your gut.

“How far along?” Simon then asked.

You shrugged. “Hard to tell from a urine test alone, but if I had to guess at least six weeks. Maybe more. I wasn’t exactly doing a great job at keeping track,” you chuckled. “But the doctor wants me back next week for an ultrasound. That’ll give us a better idea about our… well, options.”

Simon stayed silent but nodded in understanding at your explanation. As if he could feel your mind begin to wander, Boo cooed at you to grab your attention, and he stretched his arms up towards your chest as if demanding a hug. Once again you chuckled as you gave him a few pats, but it didn’t make swallowing the lump in your throat any easier.

“Do you want to keep it?” you asked.

Silence.

“I’d never make you do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do,” he replied.

It wasn’t a proper answer, and you wanted to grab him and shake him around, demand that he give you a yes or no. But maybe he didn’t even know the answer to your question. You just hated waiting around when you quite literally had something growing inside of you that demanded your attention. Something that demanded instant answers and decisions. But that wasn’t how things worked.

“We don’t have to decide anythin’ now,” Simon said as if he had read your mind. “We can wait until next week when we see your doctor. We’ll figure it out.”

Perhaps it was for the best that he left your question unanswered, because you weren’t sure you could bear to hear it, no matter what it was. No would mean he would put his work before truly starting a life with you. Sure, you didn’t think you were ready to be a mother, but no one could ever be truly ready for something like that. But yes? Yes would mean that he loved you enough to throw everything else away, and maybe that fact made you uneasy because you knew you didn’t deserve it.

But Simon was right. Nothing had to be decided right then and there. For the moment, you could just sit there in your husband’s lap and attempt to find an odd comfort in the fact that you had not gained your mother’s sickness.

In the days leading up to your appointment, Simon doted on you more than usual. At work he would find any excuse to visit your office, be it for paperwork or some other bullshit reason. His mask was as opaque as ever, but you always saw right through it. Worry clouded his eyes to the point you almost couldn't make out the earthy brown color, yet he refused to show it on the outside. You were certain someone was going to get suspicious about him visiting you so often, as no one besides his teammates even knew the two of you were married, but rumors never worried Simon.

At home he acted as if he had been surgically attached to your side. He always ensured you were fed and stayed on top of chores more than normal. In a way, it had gotten a little annoying because there was nothing for you to do around the apartment to distract yourself besides watch some terrible reality programme on the television. Not even your sweet and clueless cat would leave you alone, as he seemed hellbent on snuggling your stomach as much as possible.

During the night, when Simon thought you were asleep, you could feel his hands wander. As he laid curled behind you, his hand would sneak underneath your shirt not to grope you, but to feel you. His palm would rest flat against your stomach as if he could feel the life growing inside of you through your skin. He did this two times of which you could recall. The first night he did it was the day you had broken the news to him, and you had been so exhausted from crying you thought you had imagined it. The second time you were wide awake. You could sense the subtle yearning of his touch as he held your stomach and buried his face into the back of your neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt your pulse quicken.

On the day of the appointment, both you and Simon took the entire day off of work. Really, it didn’t make sense to miss a full day as the appointment would take no more than an hour, but you knew it was for the best. Your nerves were so fried that you couldn’t stop shaking when you tried to strip yourself of your clothes to shower that morning. Simon ended up having to help you, and you dragged him into the water with you, not wanting to be alone. Between the steamy water and the warmth of his hands, you were almost able to forget the pure fear that gripped your throat.

When you arrived at the clinic for your appointment, all the dread that you had attempted to keep at bay for the last week hit you all at once. From the droning atmosphere in the waiting room, to the dark and foreboding air in the ultrasound room, you swore you would faint. It was all so sterile. All you could think of was the scent of death you could never seem to get away from when you wandered the halls of the hospital when your mother was sick. You wanted to run away from all of it. Instead, you endured long enough to strip yourself half naked and lay on the bed with your stomach fully exposed so that the technician could glide the wand along your stomach.

Simon sat as close as humanly possible to you, and you were certain he would have tried to squeeze up there with you if he wasn’t a tall freak of nature. A dull grey hue shrouded his masked face in a cold shadow as his eyes focused on the ultrasound monitor on your right. You followed his gaze and you were met with nothing but a mess of fuzzy static as the technician searched through your body to find your uterus.

It was surreal when the image finally came into focus. Through the mess of static was a black void that the technician pointed out as being your womb, and floating amidst that darkness was what you could only describe as being a blip. A small little bean that was so tiny it hardly took up any space at all. It was odd to think that this small creature had caused you such emotional turmoil.

“There we are,” the technician smiled.

“It’s… so little,” you commented.

“It is,” she concurred before pressing a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her. “Just a little under two centimeters, to be exact.”

You stayed quiet as she glided the wand along your stomach again, and you tried not to make a face at the odd pressure and the sticky feeling of the gel. She clacked away at the buttons a few more times while humming to herself, completely relaxed, as you were certain this was a routine thing for her. It was difficult not to wiggle your feet or tap your hands on the bed underneath you as you thought to yourself. With an embryo that small, you were certain you could take a pill or two to abort it if that’s what you and Simon decided. It could all be over in a week and you could rest well knowing you hadn’t ruined your husband's career.

A quiet shame overwhelmed you for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t even know what you wanted, but thinking about getting rid of it made you feel worse than thinking about keeping it.

In an attempt to calm your mind, you tore your eyes away from the monitor and looked to Simon only to find his eyes glued to the screen. He sat as still as a statue, immovable and unwavering as he stared at that little glowing blip. He was… enamored. A quiet sound suddenly filled the room that you had confused for white noise at first until you could make out the clear, rapid yet steady rhythm of it. It was messy and warbly, but undeniably strong.

“And… there’s the heartbeat,” the technician confirmed.

Even in the darkness of the room you could clearly make out the way Simon’s eyes dilated. He soaked up every single image, every sound that took place inside of you with a sort of wonder you had only ever seen from him when he looked at you. No, he wasn’t just awestruck, he was in love. With you. With this child. And the only thing that was able to get him to look away from the screen was your longing touch as you tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. That wide eyed expression stuck with him as he automatically grabbed your hand in response, and you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched underneath his mask.

“That’s our baby,” you whispered.

Our baby. Those words clung to Simon’s chest and made his heart jump. He quickly glanced at the monitor again before looking back at you with a gentle squeeze of your hand. Even with his mask you could see the faint crinkle of the corner of his eyes in what you knew was a loving smile. That was the moment you had finally gotten the answer to your question.

After everything that had happened to you, Simon had promised himself he would never carry around another picture, but he couldn’t get rid of the copy of the little blip the technician had given him at the end of your appointment. It was still impossible for him to fully comprehend just how small it was. It was hardly the size of his fingernails. None of it seemed real, and yet there he was, sitting on the edge of his desk in his office as he stared down at that picture.

All was well. Your biopsy had come back clear, there were no abnormalities with the baby; he was going to be a father. That was something he had never imagined himself being. Even when he was younger he was fully content on just being an uncle. Settling down wasn’t supposed to be for him. That life was meant for people better than him, with something waiting for them other than gore and violence. Perhaps he had grown soft.

A rushed and demanding knock rattled the door to Simon’s office and his eyes shot up to stare at the pale wood. He took the photo in his hands and laid it face down on his desk before he shifted his weight, wood creaking and groaning underneath him.

“Come in.”

The door swung open with such force it nearly tore off its hinges just to slam shut with a thunderous bang. Simon continued to sit on the edge of his desk unbothered as Johnny looked at him with wild blue eyes and a slightly reddened face. Judging by the way he could nearly hear the man’s teeth grind, he wasn’t impressed about something.

“You’re quitting?” he demanded.

“It’s called retiring, Johnny,” Simon corrected in a dry attempt at humor.

“But you’re leaving?”

“Not for another year at least,” Simon confirmed.

Instead of standing there to stare right at him, Johnny began to pace as if keeping still would be the death of him. “But why?”

“I’m gettin’ old,” Simon shrugged.

“Bullshit,” Johnny spat.

An uneasy silence stretched between the two men as Johnny waited for his answer and Simon contemplated if he should tell the truth or not. He never thought he would get as close to Johnny as he had. Hell, he had read him like an open book years ago when the two of you first started seeing one another. But there was something odd happening. There was a terribly strong rage that bubbled inside of his sergeant, and it didn’t take long for him to get answers as to why the man was so upset.

“Is it because of Sallow?” he asked.

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The bastard’s been trying to make it seem like you’re pining after a married woman. Spook, your own damn wife. Almost seems like he’s trying to get you discharged based on infidelity charges,” Johnny explained.

That fact was so bizarre Simon nearly chuckled at the mere thought of it. He had known that the Trooper had some screws loose, but he didn’t expect him to truly act on it while he was staying on base. Let alone mess with you. Surely it was an issue, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about some FNG.

“Sallow’s got nothin’ to do with this,” Simon replied.

“Yeah?” Johnny challenged.

“That cunt couldn’t get me fired no matter how hard he tried. And certainly not for loving my fuckin’ wife.”

“Then why? Why did Price just tell me that you’re leaving?” Johnny asked. His tone was firm, but his eyes looked defeated. Like it would have been easier to know Simon was leaving because of something out of his control, and not something he would willingly do himself. “What’s going on?”

Simon’s fingers absentmindedly reached for the photo next to him before his mind had fully decided that’s what he wanted to do. And maybe it was a bad idea sharing the news so early. There were so many things that could go wrong, and maybe he had even acted irrationally by leaving the force as soon as he got the news, but it just felt right. He needed to do it. He needed to be vulnerable to the man who had helped save your life and care for you while he was locked away. He needed to learn that it was okay to stop fighting.

He carefully slid the photo off of his desk and flipped it over to give it a good glance before he held it out for Johnny. The man snatched it from his fingers and looked at it as if he expected a report or some sort of ransom note, but every muscle in his body froze the moment he made sense of the mess of black and white. All the pieces suddenly fit together in Johnny’s mind, and he couldn’t help but glance back and forth between Simon and the picture.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Simon agreed.

“How far along?” Johnny asked. He gripped the photo with two hands as the fragility of the situation fully hit him.

“About nine weeks.”

His eyes finally settled to just look at Simon and Simon alone as he held the photo out for him to take back. “Congrats, mate.”

Simon hummed. “Just don’t go yappin’ about it. You’re the only one who knows.”

The photo was returned to the desk where it laid face up that time. It was almost as if Simon couldn’t take his eyes off of it. That if he did he would wake up and realize it was all just a dream.

“That’s… that’s gotta be a big change,” Johnny said. Whatever anger that had bubbled inside of him previously had dissipated at the truth and instead was placed with a shocked sort of awe.

“It’s fuckin’ terrifying,” Simon admitted.

A sympathetic smile crossed Johnny’s face at his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be a good dad, Simon.”

He chuckled something gruff and sour.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighed.

Whether he would be a good dad or not would remain to be seen. All his life he had only ever known fighting and fear; it was in his nature by that point to be nothing but a vile creature. Dead men weren’t supposed to have families and settle down, but you came along and muddled all of that up. You gave him something to fight for, to protect, to love; you gave him not only yourself but a child, too. He didn’t think he would be a good dad, but he knew he would be better than what he had, what you had, and that was more than enough for him.

hi (: just dropping by to say yes there is more soft spot, but i just wanted to point out the change in my taglist! okay ily bye

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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