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alwaysshallow · 3 months

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gorgeous, part 7

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

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. (3,5k)

READ ON AO3

previous part

When you’re supposed to see Simon Riley for the thirteenth time, he doesn’t show up.

Not like it’s a surprise, but more of a disappointment, completely unnecessary one, given that he told you there might be complications. You didn’t even ask about them, knowing he’s not gonna tell you, and you didn’t really want to know what complications he had in mind, considering his work field.

You still don’t want to know, not like that changed.

Everything started almost two months ago; he called you around the end of your shift at your clinic, when you were cleaning with Bernie. Caught up in the process, you would almost miss the call if your employee wouldn’t catch it.

He wasn’t beating around the bush. After a small talk—that you knew he probably hated to do—he straight up asked, if you can take care of his cat for a few weeks, maybe a month. Time really was a tricky one here, considering that he had no idea since a mission could go sideways.

Without thinking about it twice, you agreed. Surprise was evident, as he got silent for a few seconds, then announced that he’s gonna be around five at your place the next day, to give you the cat.

With hope, you asked if it’s gonna be later five, as you hoped he didn’t mean the one in the morning; he only laughed at that, hanging up, and you just knew you’re not gonna get much sleep.

“I’m grateful you’re doin’ this,” he said, once he got here. Eyes on you, dark like a simple, black coffee. Luring you into his arms more and more, especially at five in the morning to seek some kind of comfort that you desperately needed, as you slept a few hours.

“I love this cat. And I have to somehow pay for your fatigue with finding me a good mechanic, don’t I?” You raised your eyebrow. He chuckled, amused, leaning against the frame of the entry door to your apartment.

You kept your mouth shut how badly you wanted him to just sit and have a simple tea. Just like he liked, you didn’t care. If he even wanted to, you could easily give him butter cookies that you made yesterday, they turned pretty decent.

“You don’t owe me anything, dove,” he murmured. One last look into your apartment; longing, as you noticed.

It’s hard to leave something behind yourself, knowing it’s the last time where he feels content. At least, you thought that he felt this way—he didn’t need to deal with anything else, but things that were only around a normal person’s day.

And he needed to leave this calm life for work.

“Shouldn’t be more than a month.” He broke the silence, looking at you again.

You tried to ignore the warm feeling, bubbling in your heart. Hot like a lava, sweet like a candy that you know you shouldn’t eat because you’ll get addicted; he only explained himself for the sake of the cat. Not because he felt like it’s right to do for you, or because he knew you’re gonna be worried. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. “Right. Where to, this time?”

“Iraq. And some countries along the way, depends,” he murmured, his lips in a thin line. With a sigh, he took a few steps into your apartment, enough to face you, his big frame towering over you significantly. You never felt so small in a good way. In a safe way.

“Depends. Get me a magnet, will you?” you asked, teasingly, hoping you didn’t cross some of a boundary here. His bark of a laugh calmed you with this a little bit. “What? I love magnets.”

“S’alright. ‘m gonna get you plenty,” he said—sarcastically, as you could sense—and leaned down a bit. “Anythin’ else?”

After a quick debate in your head if you should, you hugged him. Tight, your eyes closed, arms encircled around his body (at least, in a way you could because this man was massive). “Take care. And be safe.”

His body freezes a little; a cold cube against a heater like you, too tired to care, too afraid too. “Hard enough in a open field—”

“—just come home safe,” you said, not really thinking about the choice of your words. The aftermath came to you in a split second, warmness spreading on your cheeks. “I mean… home, as in, here. Fuck, not here, I meant, a place, this town—”

“—Sssh. I know.”

You both stayed in this position for a little while. You because he didn’t push you away, he… for other reasons, but whatever this reason was, when he backed out, you saw how much more relieved and relaxed he was. Like this hug did something to him, put him in the right place of mind, where he needed to be in the sake of whatever mission he faced that time.

“Gonna do my best to be safe.” He lifted your chin with his two fingers. “But you have to do the same thing.”

You barked a laugh, shaking your head with a little disbelief. Cute. “Not really a challenge in a town where nothing happens.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised, dove. Just do as I said, can’t lose you.”

And with those words and a small wave (initiated by you), he was gone. The only sign that he was here was his cat and the smell; on you, but also on the things that he brought to your apartment in order to help you with taking care of his animal.

Now, it’s only a faded memory of his smell around, which has both you and Sparkles upset. You expected it, of course you did, but not that much. You haven’t expected the weird void in your chest whenever you look at the text he sent you weeks ago, when they arrived to Iraq.

Nothing after this. Radio silence, and even if you knew why, your stomach twists every time at the thought that something wrong could’ve happened. Would you even learn about that? Maybe from your best friend that is on team with him, maybe then, no other way. Or this Soap guy that seems to be familiar with you.

Either way, some of the nights are almost sleepless when you think about it.

The day he’s supposed to show up passes quickly.

Another two weeks after that too, and another two weeks. It’s a balance for you—clinic, house and Sparkles and occasional trips to the grocery store if you don’t have anything in the fridge. Everything is so mundane, and yet you feel like something’s off.

Like you miss something.

Someone, in that matter, but you don’t let that thought overwhelm you too much; it’s still so fresh.

You spend your birthday with a couple of friends, in your apartment. Small dinner, just to celebrate the day, as you don’t really feel like doing big things; or, going to the club, as you were previously doing every year. Now, not only that your best friend isn’t here because she’s on a mission to serve the country, Celia isn’t here either, as she had a family emergency or something like that. Ironic, yet, you just accept the fact and move on—it’s not like you have much else to do.

There’s gonna be another day to celebrate with them, you know it.

The complete irony though, comes to you when the power goes off in the whole building at three in the morning. There’s loud banging to your door that startles you awake and has Sparkles all hissing, annoyed, that someone abrupts her sleep like this.

You quickly shush her, then you put your robe on to answer whoever is outside.

And that’s no one else but your landlord; in his suit, as always, even if he comes in an ungodly hour like that to your apartment. There’s a quick chit-chat about the rent, prices coming up, so you should prepare for this. And finally, he says that power is gonna be off for a couple of hours. You bite the want to ask how many hours, smiling, instead.

“Lock in the front door doesn’t work. So consider that.”

Your smile drops after that.

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean it doesn’t work?”

The man shrugs, completely unfazed by your reaction. “It doesn’t. Power’s off, so the lock doesn’t work either.”

Simple words, simple message, yet, you can’t quite get this idea around your head, when you’re done talking with him. Simon’s words echoes in your mind, when you close the door, checking twice if all the locks are on.

You’d be surprised.

It’s not like you’re a particularly easy type to scare, but somehow, you find it hard to sleep this night, as you turn in bed multiple times in a span of an hour. Shadows suddenly transform to potential dangers, figures are coming out of the darkness. Primitive noises bring you out of the bed to check if something’s happening.

So, you decide it’s best to not sleep at all than to have a paranoia going around. Completely unnecessary one, but it’s not like you can help it.

You thank yourself in mind that you have candles; multiple, so you can easily light up the living room, making it a bit cozier when you lay on the couch with multiple pillows and blankets, a book in your hand. It has to work somehow, since you feel way better than in your bedroom.

Sparkles is around, too. Maybe she senses how you are feeling about the whole thing, but she keeps her distance. She seems way more interested in the dark than you are, jumping on kitchen counters, looking outside. From time to time, she invades the space near you, wanting some head scratches.

She’s just this way. On and off.

Like her owner—you think, sighing to yourself.

It’s hard not to think what Simon is up to these days. He’s probably in way darker places than your apartment right now, he’s probably way scared than you are. Or, is he? This man probably doesn’t even know the sense of being scared.

Or, maybe he just doesn’t show it cause everyone is scared of something at some point.

You don’t know, but you miss him. You miss the man that you met over four months ago just by accident because he found a kitten on a street. It’s a little bit ironic now, knowing how you grow attached to him, despite your “I won’t meet him anymore” mindset. Despite his closed personality that you desperately wanted to know a little bit closer.

You can’t help but think that he’s like a cat himself. Stray that will cling to you when you’ll give him food and then he decides what to do. Jumps from being away from you to being by your side full time—and you never know what he’s gonna do next.

Like Simon. Just like him, considering that you never guessed that you’re gonna babysit Sparkles, treating her as your own pet.

You play with your phone as you think about messaging him. Would it be wrong? Would it disturb him? It’s not like he’d have a phone in an open battlefield, you’re not sure if he has service wherever he is right now, either. But, if he happened to read it, maybe he’d feel great. Maybe he’d smile a little, knowing that someone remembers about him—here, in a calmer world, where probably he’d prefer to be, instead of an open battlefield.

And that someone also misses him. Not like you’d admit it in front of him, but it is a simple state of facts.

Book you picked up goes aside the moment you hear another knocking; done with the situation that already is, you almost jolt to the door. “Another problem with that building, or maybe I haven’t paid for something?”

You don’t see clearly, but when the person on the other side of the door lights up the corridor with a flashlight, you see no one other than Simon. He must see the annoyed look on your face because he tilts his head in a curious manner; probably thinking what he did to earn a warm welcome like this. “Nice to see you too.”

You avert your gaze; maybe you should check who it is, not only because of safety, but to not snap at someone innocent like him. “Sorry. Thought you’re my landlord,” you mutter, ignoring how he barks a laugh, loudly, then closes the door.

“Why is it so bloody dark in here? Haven’t paid the bills, tha’s why you don’t want to see him?” Simon quips. You roll your eyes, smiling under your nose nonetheless, knowing that he won’t see it. You missed him being around.

“Not really. Thought it’s gonna be creepier, you know. Sparkles likes that, just like her owner.” You shrug, following his steps, as he gets deeper into your apartment. Confident, like he actually belongs in the dark, not like you, frightened by it. It’s like he’s used to this.

“Her owner pays the bills, though. And even more,” you say, eyes directly on him. His blonde hair is shorter, not exactly a buzzcut, but close to it; messy, like he did the cut himself or someone who did it was drunk. Black surgical mask covers half of his face, but he’s still in his cargo pants and a bit of military attire, so you guess he came here almost immediately after landing.

You try to ignore how it makes your heart flutter, as he hands you something. “For you.”

“Oh.” You blink, eyes glued to the wrapped gift. It’s a messy wrap, way too much tape there and there, but it can’t wipe off the surprised smile on your face. Pattern is barely visible because of his struggle with packaging, but you recognize cats.

“...Thought it would be appropriate,” he says, breaking the silence, when you carefully open the layers of gift wrap. Multiple of them, when probably just one would be enough, but you do not comment on that. “A gift for takin’ care of Sparkles. And, for your birthday, even if they were a few weeks ago.”

You open your mouth a little. “How did you—”

“—I just remembered. ‘s all,” he cuts you off. Too fast, like he doesn’t want you to ask too many questions.

Too bad that you’re a curious individual.

You raise your eyebrow, amused. “Simon, I didn’t tell you when I have my birthday.”

He huffs, sitting comfortably on the couch. Manspreading, taking off his mask. He tosses it on the table, near the big candle you lit maybe an hour ago. “You did.”

You cross your arms on your chest. There’s a fire in you, slowly igniting; you need to push him a little into answering. Admitting what you know he did because there’s no power in the world to convince you that you told him. “I’d remember it.”

He rolls his eyes. They’re almost black in that dim light, as you sit right in front of him on the armchair. Dangerous, telling you to drop it. You almost hear it in your head. “Just unwrap the gift.”

“Did you…” you gasp. Theatrically, just to annoy him even more, as you see how his jaw tenses. “You looked through my account, hm? Instagram, probably? Facebook?”

“Suddenly a crime, that is?” A quick question; maybe a little nervous, but he’s more amused by your revelation. Or he’s putting on a facade.

“Not a crime. I find it funny that you just won’t admit it openly.” You stick out your tongue. “Like it is a crime. It’s just cute that you want to know something about me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Unwrap it finally, hm?”

It takes one eye roll from you to do what he says. Despite the messy packaging, you do it slowly, as you have no idea what is in there—and you really don’t want to ruin the gift, whatever it is.

That gets you thinking: in theory, he doesn’t know what you like. You reckon he doesn’t have experience in this type of field, as the guys in the military probably just buy each other a drink and call it a day. Here, it seems like he wanted to do something more than that, more memorable than taking you out.

There’s a high possibility that he asked your best friend, but you doubt that he’d do something like this. He seems like the type of man that would rather die and go his ways than actually asking someone for help. Especially in something so cheesy, maybe vulnerable for a guy like him, a machine out there in the field that doesn’t allow anyone to see what is going on inside his head.

It takes minutes, but you finally unwrap the gift, excited like a kid. Your hands shake a little when you see a small box—it takes one look at Simon, him nodding, and you open it, carefully. Like there’s something expensive in it, which, as you learn second later, is completely true.

Golden necklace with a hand stamped pendant; partially hidden sun behind the waves of the ocean. It’s delicate, nothing too fancy, but you know how pricey these things can be. It’s hard to find someone who does these things anyway, and now…

"I... don't know what to say,” you whisper out. Shocked, emotional. Not quite believing what you see right now.

He snorts. "A simple 'thank you' would be alright."

“Simon, it’s… beautiful. I just—”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs, his gaze not meeting yours; he’s looking at Sparkles that bites his fingers right now in the little play they have. Unconsciously, you smile—there’s a thought in your head that you could honestly get used to this. Him, here on your couch, playing with his cat. Your cat, too. “Just a gift.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you murmur, trying to fasten a necklace. It doesn’t work; you are either too distracted, or it’s literally impossible, so you look at your friend. “Could you…?”

You know that he’s amused by this first comment, when you see a glint in his eyes. “More a promise, than a threat.”

You sigh, smiling under your nose. It’s hard to ignore how excited you seem. “Help me, please?”

He doesn’t comment on that this time; just does what you asked him to. Slowly, observing how you take a look in the camera of your phone with a flash on, trying to get the best angle—and honestly, the necklace looks straight up from your dreams. Shiny, simple in a way, but so meaningful considering that Simon had to take care of it on deployment.

Or, earlier. Nonetheless, the gesture itself makes you feel giddy inside.

“Pretty,” he hums, tilting his head to the side. Focusing not only on jewelry, but partially looking at your face too, maybe wanting to get your reaction. Too focused on your gift, you don’t see how his jaw tightens and he has to inhale.

“Pretty,” you agree—and you finally look at him. He doesn’t say anything for a good minute, just looks at your mirror reflection. “Something’s wrong?”

“I should get going.”

You blink, confused. Right now? Right now he has to go, when he just came here… five, ten minutes ago? You try to find if you did anything wrong, but nothing comes to your head. “What?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly thinking about something. You aren’t allowed to go there. “I just… should. You had enough of my shit goin’ around, you have to get some sleep.”

Desperately, you try to grab on whatever excuse you can to prevent him from going. You just got him back, you don’t quite understand why he wants to go right now. Not when you just were talking with him. “What? No, you can… stay, it won’t do any damage.”

“I have to get some too. Besides, I came here on foot, so—”

“—It’s dark, do you even think? I can drive you on my way to work, if you don’t have anything to do.”

“Dove—”

“Please, Simon.” It leaves your mouth quicker than you wanted to. A plea, something you’d normally be too embarrassed to say, if the conditions would be different. Right now, you can’t care less when you had him only for minutes.

“Just—”

“—seriously. Stay. You can sleep on the couch, whatever, but I won’t let you go when you’re tired as shit. I want you to relax, have a coffee or tea, hell, I can even make you a sandwich because it doesn’t require—” you stop, only a surprised gasp leaving your mouth, as he pulls you into his lap. Confident, like a conversation minute ago didn't happen at all.

“You ever… stop talkin’?” He tilts his head to the side. You can’t tell if he’s rather amused or… else.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Figured that out,” he murmurs, a hand on your cheek. “I’ll stay, just stop. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And make those sandwiches.” Simon gets up with you, snaked around his figure. When you don’t back out, he raises his eyebrow—a clear indication for you to take a step back; which, you do.`

He cuts some vegetables, when you move candles to the kitchen to see better, playing with your necklace. Doing that, you see something that you missed when you first looked at the jewelry.

There’s a little “S” on the back of the pendant.

He personalized it.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #x reader #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley fluff

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