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devine-star · 5 months

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❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again

ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—

ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(

—

Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.

Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.

“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.

At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.

Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.

Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.

Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.

Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.

So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.

And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.

He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.

It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just Simon.

Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—

You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!

“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.

He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.

“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.

“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.

No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.

It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.

What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.

He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.

And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.

And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.

“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.

“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.

But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.

But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.

When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.

So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.

But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.

Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.

“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.

And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.

And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.

Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.

“See something you like?”

“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”

He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.

He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.

Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.

Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.

—

ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎

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devine-star · 5 months

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Call of Duty Masterlist✨

✨MASTERPOST✨

All my works are F!Reader

John Price [HC]

Simon “Ghost” Riley [HC]

John “Soap” MacTavish [HC]

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [HC]

General info for writing Alejandro and Rodolfo

Part 1

Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I See You

Remember

Cold Nights

All the Nights to Come

Dreams and Illusions

One Last Time

The Things I Never Said: Part 2, Part 3 (finished)

In the Midst of War (+18): Part 2, Part 3

The Things I Wish I Said

Broken Wings

No More Stars Left to Count (+18)

Midnight Rain (+18)

The Weight of the World

Disobedience

Remnants

Tainted Heart

John Price

Half My Soul: Part 2 (+18)

Salvation: Part 2, Part 3 (finished)

Maybe Someday

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devine-star · 5 months

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Remember

Pairings: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You and the team go out for a drink. At the end of the night is just you and Simon.

Word Count: 800

Tw: fluff, kyle and soap get drunk, dad!price, that’s all I think(?🥴✨

A/N: idk what this is, i was bored and finished it almost at 1:00 a.m, maybe this is my poor attempt to make a story with ghost bc god i love that man, consider this a second part of i see you although it can be read as an independent one-shot. Please remember english isn’t my first language, corrections are appreciated ✨🤍🌟💕

Part 1✨

You smiled at the camera, closing your eyes and tongue sticking out, Kyle feigned seriousness and snapped the picture. The two of you bursting into laughter as he uploaded the story to his social media. On the other side of the booth Ghost remained stoic.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He muttered to himself, rolling his eyes at the sight of the two of you. You and Gaz were the youngest ones of the team and that meant hearing you talking about things he couldn’t quite understand or watching you do things on your phones that made no sense whatsoever.

Why did he even agree to come to the pub in the first place?

“I’ll go grab another round!” Kyle announced, not waiting for an answer.

“You should’ve stopped him Lt.” you spoke. “He’s had way too many of those.”

Simon didn’t even turn to look at the sargeant.

“He’s not my bloody problem.”

But deep down you knew he’d look after any of you even off-duty.

“Hmm. Last time I checked you stopped me from grabbing us those shots of tequila back in Mexico, remember?”

He does. But apparently you didn’t remember what happened that night.

And he’d keep it that way.

“You would’ve ended up choking on your own vomit, lightweight.”

You bring and hand to your chest, mouth hanging open. You can’t help it, you laugh. He’s just…

“Wow, thank you Simon. Anyway, Kyle could be the one choking on his own vomit if we don’t stop him n… where’s Johnny?”

Simon nods his head to the other side of the pub, Price is trying to get him out of the pub, completely drunk. Kyle comes back empty handed and offended.

“Apparently, the barman says I’ve had too much. Why don’t you grab some for us Lt.? You look just fine…”

“Alright that’s it muppet, you too.” Price is now grabbing Kyle by the arm and leading him to the exit before he can even say anything. It’s getting late and you know the Captain wouldn’t come back to get you nor Simon.

“And then there were two.” You smile. “Wanna get out of here?”

He inhales deeply and nods, standing up and offering you a big calloused hand to help you out of the booth.

You had always wondered why he was so kind to you. Ghost was known as this tall, broody and mysterious man that no one wanted to cross paths with. Dangerous and feared. He was easily a good foot taller than you and could break you in an instant if he ever wanted to. Yet here he was.

Offering his hand to you, looking down straight to your big doe eyes. You always thought he had a staring problem. When he was looking at you –especially now– like that, you couldn’t help but wonder if he at least felt the way you did, just a little part of him…

You absolutely adored how safe he made you feel. Recalling that day when he had followed you all the way to the armory after your failed attempt to dating this one guy.

“You alright there kid?” He asks, leading both of you out in the hot summer air.

“Mhm.” That’s all you offer, you wish you could say more. Wish you could say all the things you wanted to him. You felt silly. A silly girl with a crush with her superior. You had convinced yourself it’ll go away. Simon Riley wasn’t one to have romantic feelings he had told you before.

“That’s just not for me.” He had stated, firmly after a rather hard mission. Things had gone sideways too soon.

“How long have we known each other, sir?” You suddenly ask, walking down the street and to the barracks.

“Over a year. I don’t know, why are you asking?”

He knew exactly how long you’ve known each other he just had to act like he didn’t.

Shrugging you stare right ahead.

“I know I’ve asked before but uh, you ever think of settling down? Like finding a partner and having someone to go home to?”

“No.” His answer is blunt, and for some reason it makes your chest tighten. “Things like that don’t work for people like us.”

“Why?” You inquire so fast, turning your head to see him. “How do you know that? You’ve never…”

“I just do.” He grunts in response.

Maybe you’re imagining things now but you could’ve sworn he took a quick glance at your lips before looking elsewhere.

Still you playfully nudge his side after a few seconds of silence. If it were someone else Simon would’ve been furious.

“Never say never, sir.”

Somehow you find yourself smiling and Ghost knew, he knew that would be a problem.

If only you could remember what happened that night in Las Almas…

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devine-star · 5 months

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“I think we should break up.” Simons words were like a ton of bricks, nearly taking the wind out of you. He stated it so plainly, without any hesitation that it had your entire world spinning.

“Wait, what?” You asked, struggling to blink away the hot tears that were threatening to fall. “Simon, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His eyes landed anywhere but you, a trick you knew he had in order to keep his composure. There was something more he wasn’t telling you.

“But why? What’s changed?” Your voice was quivering now, praying the man you loved so dearly would just look at you. “Simon, what’s going on?”

Simon said nothing, his eyes glued to the floor as he tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t look at you. He knew if he did, he’d go back on his word.

“Simon Riley, you answer me right now.” Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now as you were no longer able to keep your composure. “Simon!”

“I don’t deserve you alright?” Simon finally looked up at you, the harshness in his tone causing you to flinch. “For fuck sakes, I don’t. You are everything I’m not. You’re gentle, you’re kind. You care about everyone so selflessly, and you deserve someone who can be on that level with you.”

“Si.”

“No.” Simon cut you off before you could speak, his eyes flickering back to the floor. “I’m a broken shell of a man, Y/N. You deserve someone who can take you on dates. Someone who can bring you home to their family. Someone who you’re not waiting months on end for, wondering if they are even alive. You deserve anyone but me.”

You choked back a sob, the words of your lover causing your heart to shatter. Is this truly how he felt? Had you failed as a partner to make him feel that he is worthy of love?

“I got my family killed. My best friend died because I wasn’t there fast enough. Everywhere I go, death follows me.” Simon continued. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.

“Look at me.” You spoke, your voice stern as you blinked away some of the tears. “Simon, look at me.”

Simon’s gaze lifted, and the sight of him caused your tears to flow down your cheeks once more. He was crying. His cheeks were blotched red, something you’d never once seen on him in the years you’d been together.

You took a step forward, slowly moving your hand to cup his cheek, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. “I don’t want, nor need anyone that’s not you.”

Simon blinked, clearing his throat to speak, but you cut him off. “You are the man that I want. You think you’re a broken shell of a man, but every single person on this planet is broken, in their own way. I want every part of you.

I want the late night phone calls when you’re on the other side of the world. I want the reunions when you come home, the feeling that I’ve finally got you back. I want the corny at home movie dates. I want the burnt dinners, the late night fast food runs. I want the man who so deeply cares about everyone but tries so hard to deny it. I want the man that would put his life on the line for anyone who he considers a friend. I want the dry humor, I want the witty remarks. Simon, I want you. Always.”

Simon’s tears now flowed freely down his cheeks, his lips quivering as he struggled with what to say. His arms wrapped around your torso, holding you tightly to him as a sob wracked his body. “I fucking love you, Y/N. I don’t deserve you but gods I’ll fucking try to.”

Little did he know, he never had to. You’ve loved him from the moment you met him.

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