#aoioozora writes

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 9

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

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

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @keiraslayz

@iimichie @mxtokko @chocolate-noodles @akurab @xoxobooksstuff

The waterfall, as expected, was a small one, but no less delightful to see. The falling water cascaded in a white, bubbly froth over the mossy rocks that naturally arranged themselves in steps, and spilled into the large plunge pool below. The rush of water, the chirp of birds, and the rustle of trees in the breeze relaxed everyone…

Except Johnny.

Restless as he was, he immediately threw off his t-shirt and cannonballed into the water to have a dip, making a splash that almost rivalled a meteor falling into the sea. The ladies, who were washing the sweat off their faces by the banks, were victims of this mini tsunami.

“John! Stop splashing around so much!” screeched Lindsey, her face flushed with annoyance as she watched him doggy paddle in the deeper part of the plunge pool. 

But that only provoked him to splash around some more and laugh at the annoyed look on her face. “C’mon, dinna fash yersel. It's a braw day, have some fun!” he chortled as he dove and resurfaced, mimicking a shark.

Simon watched Johnny's antics in the water and wanted to get in for a swim too, but hesitated. If it weren’t for the ladies, his shirt would be off and he’d be in the water in an instant.

“Are you gonna swim, Ghosty?” asked Gaz, who had also taken off his t-shirt and was doing a couple stretches before he could take a dip.

“No, I’m fine.” Simon shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“You sure, mate?” Gaz’s eyes flickered briefly towards the ladies as he leaned close to whisper, “You know you can show off those guns to her, right?”

He glanced at ____, who was now sitting on some rocks next to Lindsey, having their feet dipped in the water. He could take Gaz’s advice and he knew his body was impressive, but other things about his torso made him conscious. 

“Come on, don’t be such a pussy,” Gaz nudged Simon’s arm, smirking, “She’ll like it. And besides, you don't want her to be taken by someone else, do you? Might as well show her that body and secure her, yeah?”

That flipped the switch for him. 

“Right then, fuck it.” He instantly took off his shirt and threw it aside. 

The two then climbed up the rocks by the banks and dove into the water to join Johnny. While Lindsey was busy now secretly giggling watching the Scotsman, ____ got her once in a lifetime opportunity to see Simon with far less clothes than usual. 

Except for the pair of his knee-length shorts, he was naked. His skin was pale except the slight tan on his arms and upon his pecs were etched a few more tattoos similar to the sleeve tattoo on his arm. His body was built and muscular like that of an active soldier or a firefighter, with broad shoulders, well built pectoral and abdominal muscles, and built arms. All his muscles were built to be usable and not for display, and he actually looked strong. 

She stared, borderline ogled even, scanning every last bit of his exposed torso, wondering about how strong he was and how much he could carry without breaking a sweat. Of course, all of this was precious information that Frederick would inherit. 

“Babe, look at them!” Lindsey nudged ____ out of her reverie to direct her sight to the fun that the men were having. 

Simon and Johnny managed to find two large sticks and, pretending to be mediaeval swordsmen… or gladiators engaged in a duel, both screaming “En garde!” and “you fool!” at each other as they clashed sticks. Gaz was busy filming it all and egging them on to fight. 

“Boys will be boys,” remarked Lindsey with a chuckle as she too took a video of them. “Men find stick, men play with stick, men happy,” she added, looking at her friend to hear her thoughts. 

But ____ didn't hear a word Lindsey said. She was far too busy storing her mental database with the sights of the men frolicking, stick-fighting, and throwing water at each other. 

The sight that took the cake was Simon's smile. It wasn't his usual polite little smiles or his teasing smirks, but a full-blown grin of pure enjoyment and happiness. She watched the way his cheeks, flushed with exertion, raised up to his eyes; how his nose crinkled. His laughter was a loud roar, surprisingly, louder than those of his two friends. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knee and watched Simon with a dreamy eye, completely taken in by how handsome his genuine laughter made him, yet another thing for Frederick to inherit.

“I caught a fesh!” came Johnny's scream after some minutes of brawling in the pool. The two ladies looked and indeed, the Scotsman was found standing in the middle of the water holding up a huge, writhing fish in his hands like it was a trophy. “Oi Gaz, take ma picture! I need tae put this on ma Instagram.” 

“Bruv, did you catch that with your bare hands?” exclaimed Gaz as he came up with his camera, taking a couple photos while the Scotsman waded towards the banks, posing with his prized catch. Johnny announced that he did, and then explained his unorthodox process.

“Your bum’s out the window,” Simon, who now joined them, decided to let Johnny know that he wasn’t making any sense.

“Say it in a Sco’ish accent, mate,” Johnny piped, smirking, “It’s ‘yer bum’s oot the windae’,” 

“Right then, it looks like we're having fish and chips for lunch today.”

“Fuckin’ pussy,” Johnny teased, rolling his eyes.

The men decided to emerge from the water and call the ladies to prepare to return to the cabin. As they trudged back, Johnny excitedly showed off his catch to Lindsey, who he found out wasn't very keen on fish. The Scotsman, taking full advantage of it, would try to sneakily touch her arm with the cold, wet fish, making her squirm and shiver. Johnny and Gaz lightheartedly teased her for being averse to a dead fish, but she didn’t find it funny at all. 

After they reached the cabin, Simon immediately hit the shower, and Johnny and Gaz helped the ladies unload the car. Johnny had the ladies take all of their personal belongings inside the cabin and encouraged them to explore when they were done. And so they did. 

The interiors were filled with the pleasant scent of aged wood mixed with the musty smell of dust, which made Lindsey open the uncurtained windows to let in some fresh air. The small living room had two plastic covered couches in the center, facing each other. Across was a clean furnace and mantel made with stone, empty, clean, and undecorated. On their left was a moderately sized kitchen equipped with basic tools and vessels, and on their right were two empty bedrooms which the ladies wandered into. One king sized bed sat in each room, and one bathroom united both the rooms in the middle. The bathroom was occupied by Simon, who was busy washing himself inside after the swim. 

When he had finished and was dressed in fresh clothes, he threw his bath towel over his wet head and was about to step out when he overheard the ladies talking. 

“Oh, where is my camera when I need it?” he heard ____ exclaim.

There was a pause, and then a surprised quip from Lindsey, “What’s this, why’d you bring your Little Simon?”

Bigger Simon had to do a double take. 

Deathly curious to know what this ‘Little Simon’ was, he cracked open the door slightly and peeked out. He saw a stuffed toy in Lindsey’s hand, a skeleton plush, the very one he won for ____ at the arcade. 

His eyes widened slightly. His heart picked up speed. “She calls it Little Simon?” 

He wasn’t sure what to even feel, but he definitely felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach. “But why?” And then he remembered that it was probably because of his skull printed mask, the motorcycle gloves, and his tattoos. 

“I kinda can’t seem to go anywhere without him,” he heard ____ say softly in response to Lindsey, sounding a little shy as she took the soft toy from her friend’s hand and stuffed it back in her backpack and continued looking for her camera.

“You have the real man himself, and you’ll be around him until tomorrow morning,” Lindsey answered with a teasing smirk.

“I know, I know,” ____ chuckled, “But still, I have a bit of an attachment to this little guy.”

“Because he gave it to you,” Lindsey playfully shoved her friend’s shoulder. “You know, I might be a little reconciled to you two being a thing, especially after he helped you hike today.”

____ smiled at that. “I’m glad to have your approval, mum.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, also smiling.

Simon, in the meantime, had to keep himself from punching the wall to keep his joy at bay. Although he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, he still gained valuable insight on ____’s feelings for him. His cheeks flushed red, his chest felt like it was going to explode, and an uncontrollable smile tugged his lips until the muscles in his face felt sore. 

“Let's fucking go!” Simon clenched his fists, smirking triumphantly, “Alejandro, you absolute fucking loser.”

The ladies soon found the camera, took their photos and then stepped outside the room. Only then did Simon finally step out, exhaling heavily and pressing his damp bath towel on his warm face to cool it down. 

He gingerly stepped out of the room, pausing to hear if the ladies were still around. It was silent. Exhaling again, he promptly stepped outside to find out what everyone was up to. Johnny and Gaz were setting up the tent, and the ladies were helping them secure the pegs in the ground.

“Ghosty!” Johnny called as soon as Simon was out the front door, “Can ye chop up some wood? We need tae get the fire pit burning.”

“Aye,” Simon nodded, giving his damp hair one last ruffle to dry it before hanging it up on the drying rack on the porch and turning around the corner to go to the woodshed at the back. 

Gaz decided it was his turn to take a shower and left the tent with Johnny and the ladies. Johnny, feeling a little cheeky, told ____, “Why don’ ye help Simon out with the wood? Lindsey and I can pitch the tent by ourselves.”

She immediately picked up the hint. “Alright, then,” she said with a half-smile, leaving the two by themselves.

As soon as she was gone, Johnny asked, smirking as he pretended to adjust the tent cloth on the rods, “What’s the craic, hen?”

“Nothing much,” she answered, shrugging.

“I’m offended ye didn’t like ma catch,” he said playfully, enjoying her reactions to him just existing. 

“I don’t even like fesh!” she exclaimed, her own Scottish accent unexpectedly slipping in between her normally spoken RP accent.

Johnny was pleasantly surprised by the slip. “Yer Sco’ish?” he asked, sounding amused.

Her fair face flushed red with embarrassment, which confused Johnny somewhat. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” she asked, glaring at him. 

“Nothin’,” he answered, unable to suppress a curious smirk at her reaction, “Ye hid it well. Pretendin’ tae be Sassenach, are ye?”

“No, I was raised in England.”

“An’ ye dinnae have no Sco’ish accent at all? From your parents?” 

“I got rid of it.”

His patriotic self raised a brow at this. “How so?” He asked, “Are ye embarrassed of it?” 

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms. “Yes.” He begged her to tell him why this was so and she answered with, “I got made fun of very early on,” she absentmindedly twirled a lock of her wavy hair around her finger, “and so I shed it and spoke in RP.”

“Who made fun of ye?” Johnny demanded with a raised brow, sounding offended for her.

“Oh, just some lads back in school.” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. 

Johnny growled under his breath, annoyed. “They’re aff their heid!” he exclaimed, “Fuckin’ eejits dinnae ken how bonny our accent is.”

Lindsey had to admit that she felt a little warmed by how offended he was on her behalf. 

“Many of them played with my feelings too, especially if they noticed I had a crush on one of them. They made fun of my red hair and me being Scottish, and mimicked my accent. I have no idea why they didn't like any of it,” she added, suddenly feeling the odd, tingly feeling of anxiety a closed-off person gets when they open up unexpectedly. 

Johnny was positively furious. “Tha’ so?” he said, crossing his arms, “Then ye don’ need tae be runnin’ after those bloody twats, ye ken? Whit ye need is a real Sco’ish man. He wouldnae take the mick outta ye.”

Lindsey blinked in surprise at this speech, feeling another bout of warmth in her chest. She chuckled and asked, crossing her arms, “And where am I to find a man like this?” 

A smirk tugged the corner of Johnny’s lip. “Right in front of ye, pet,” he said, putting a hand on his puffed chest, “I’m yer man and I ken how tae love ye.”

“Bold words,” answered Lindsey, impressed by his confidence.

He shook his head. “If only a Sco'ish man can appreciate a bonny Sco'ish lass like ye,” he flirted, sizing her up and down to bask in her beauty, “then he sure as hell can love her.” 

The lady couldn't help but blush and smile at this. She had to admit that he was winning her, but not quite yet. 

“I'm not convinced yet. How will I know for sure you'll treat me right and keep it that way?” she challenged, smiling playfully. 

“I’ve been askin’ ye tae go oan a date with me, but ye just want tae talk, talk, talk first.” He sarcastically rolled his eyes and flapped his joined fingers to mimic yapping. “I think it’s enough talkin’, yeah? Time to go oan a date an’ see me in action. Whit ye say, pet?”

“Alright, fine,” she relented, “But I have high expectations, so don’t disappoint me.” The smile lingered as she crossed her arms.

He returned her smile, happy to be challenged. “Yer wish is my command.”

To keep his wet hair from troubling him, Simon pulled out a black bandana from his pocket, folded it up oblong and tied it around his forehead. Just as he was about to enter the woodshed, he heard ___ call as she emerged from behind the wall.

“Simon, do you need-” Her words stopped in their tracks when she saw him sporting the bandana, clearly a new look she hadn't seen on him before. 

“Need what?” he asked, turning to face her.

She gulped harshly and then croaked out, “...Help?” 

“I don’t, but do you want to help?” He turned back to the woodshed and pulled out a log of wood and a splitting axe. 

“Yeah,” she answered, watching him place the log of wood on a tree stump that functioned as a chopping block.

He turned back to the woodshed and brought out a small wooden stool, which he handed to her. He then pointed slightly afar off, smiling. “You can sit still over there and look pretty for me.” 

She chuckled, “So far away?”

“I’ll be swinging an axe, darling. It’s not gonna be safe for anyone to stay nearby. If you want to watch, it’s best if you stay far away.” He rested the axe head down on the grass, allowing the long handle to lean against his leg while he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt above his elbows, revealing his sturdy forearms. 

She took his advice and the stool, and sat across from him, far away for her safety but near enough to talk to him. She watched as he adjusted his sleeves, spread his legs apart slightly, and wiped his hands on his jeans before taking hold of the axe. Placing one hand below the axe head and the other at the butt end, he raised it over his head, twisting his torso slightly and brought it down with all his strength, splitting the wood in half with a satisfying thwack.

She watched him both carefully and dreamily, observing his motions and form as he split the wood; it would be useful information. A sigh escaped her lips, marvelling at his range of vocations; he was a car mechanic, a gardener, and now a lumberjack, and who knew what else was in his repertoire of practical talents. A plumber? An electrician? Her attraction towards him was increasing at an alarming rate, and even Simon could see it in the way she stared at him. 

He exhaled, feeling another flutter in his stomach. Every single instance of her interest in him convinced him further and deeper that she preferred him over anyone else, all of it now piling up into a heap in his mind. 

The silence was thick, and her staring relentless, and he felt suffocated (in a good way). He wanted to start a conversation but felt his throat go dry. What would he even talk about? He began to sift through the recesses of his mind for a conversation starter. 

“Your skelly plush,” he finally began, his voice a little too unstable for his liking, “You seem to like it a lot. I always see it on your Instagram stories.”

“Yeah, I do, it’s cute,” she admitted. 

As he split the loose piece of wood with his hand and tossed aside the smaller piece, he couldn’t help but smile at this indirect compliment she was unknowingly paying him. 

“He’s your emotional support plushie then?” Simon asked teasingly as he adjusted the larger piece of the split wood on the stump to split it down again. 

“He is,” she answered, gazing again as he swung down the axe. “He motivates me to write.”

“Does that mean I motivate you to write?” he wondered as he threw aside the split wood and placed the next log on the chopping block. 

“Speaking of writing,” he began, swinging the axe down, “How’s the novel coming along? You said that there were problems with the male lead.”

“Yeah, there was…” she answered, but her voice trailed off when she watched as he yanked out the axe head lodged in the tight crack of the log, dug his fingers in the said crack, and with a grunt, split the wood with his bare hands, letting out a heavy sigh at the end of it. 

A delightful tingle coursed through her lower regions, making her press her thighs together and her cheeks flush. Did she just ovulate? If societal norms didn't exist, she'd already be asking him to split her legs apart. Maybe she was in the ovulation part of her cycle. 

“This is juicy,” she thought, covering her mouth slightly to hide the embarrassed smile creeping on her face. Frederick was going to be one hell of a man. 

Simon in the meantime, not looking at her, turned the split log of wood around to land another blow on it, all the while thinking, “Did she see it?” But when he stole a glance, she was looking elsewhere. He sighed, raising the axe one last time to split the last log of wood they needed. 

“What were you saying, love?” He remembered that she stopped mid-sentence. 

“Oh,” she blinked, now gulping harshly to keep her sudden spurt of lust at bay, “Yeah, the male lead. I've thankfully gotten a nice fitting model for him to base his character off of, and so far, it's coming along great.” 

“Who's the model, then?” he asked, now gathering the pieces of wood and keeping them aside. 

She struggled, looking this way and that as she tried to think of someone’s name to say. “Uh, Alejandro,” she spat out. “Fuck, why did I say that?!” 

Simon froze for a split second. “Oh, I see,” he said through his teeth, feeling the full force of disappointment and jealousy hit him like a train. Even the delightful little pile of evidence of her interest in him felt like they were given a harsh, vigorous shake as if to say in warning, “Don't get your hopes up.”

He was glad that his back was turned to her because he felt a painful twinge in his chest strong enough to make his eyes narrow and his lips to frown. “Why'd I even bother?” 

Swallowing down all his ill feelings, he collected his composure and the wood in his hands and tucked some under his arm. “We're done here. Let's go,” he said, his voice a hint icy and sharp, though he tried to sound casual and normal. 

He did a good job at hiding it, because she didn't notice the subtle shift in his tone. 

“Let me carry some,” she offered, now standing and walking up to him. 

“No, you might get a splinter,” he reasoned. 

She frowned. “Come on, please? Let me help,” she begged. 

Simon usually could refuse anyone’s help point-blank, and he could be petty and refuse her rudely, but at the sight of her pleading eyes staring at him, he nearly melted. Though he felt bitter, his tender regard for her didn't falter in the slightest. He still didn't want her delicate hands to get hurt, so he turned back to the woodshed again and brought out a pair of gloves. “Wear these first,” he instructed. 

Her face beamed as she took the gloves and put them on. Only when she did did he give her a lighter load of the split wood to carry. 

He was silent as they carried the wood to the fire pit, but only one thought filled his mind, “Why am I jealous? She's the author. She can choose whoever she wants as a model for her characters. Maybe the male lead is like Alejandro.” And yet, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed and embarrassed by the fact that he thought himself highly enough to be a model for any character in her work. After all, “she went to Alejandro first to discuss the male lead. It’s not any wonder she would choose someone like him.”

By the time they had dropped the wood into the fire pit, they found nobody outside. After starting a fire, the two entered the cabin and found Lindsey and Gaz in the kitchen, prepping the ingredients for lunch while Johnny's bathroom concert made nice background music. 

They joined in and Johnny joined soon after. Johnny was in such high spirits that he couldn't stop singing, either under his breath or out loud. He very openly flirted with Lindsey, who was both flattered and offended by it, since she would've preferred him to be more discreet. Gaz and ____ egged Johnny on simply because they wanted to be entertained, but Simon was by himself, silent, sullen, and annoyed by all the noise. 

When ____ had her fill of fun, she leaned over to Simon who was busy dicing up some tomatoes. “Simon,” she called. 

“Hm?” He responded, his eyes fixated on the tomatoes, not willing to meet her eye. 

“You told me that Johnny was a bit of a womaniser,” she said, her voice quiet and a hint worried as she took a bottle of dried peppercorns and tried to open it. 

“Yeah, I did.” he answered, watching her trying to pry the tight lid open. 

“I'm a bit worried about Lindsey. I hope Johnny won't raise her hopes up too high and break her heart. She seems to really like him.” She grunted, shaking her aching, red hand, still unsuccessful. 

His jaw clenched slightly. “You're worried about her and yet you openly support them,” he quipped, taking the bottle from her and twisting the tight lid open easily. He handed the bottle back. 

She smiled gratefully at him as she took the bottle and poured out a couple of peppercorns into a small mortar. “Yeah, I kinda do support them, and I think they look great together, but I'm still worried about how Johnny will treat Lindsey long term.” 

Simon was silent for a moment, now staring back at the tomatoes that he mindlessly turned into a mush from dicing too much. “What do you want me to do, darling?” he asked. 

“I want you to find out if he genuinely likes her,” she said, now in a whisper, now crushing the pepper into a coarse powder with the pestle, “Lindsey… she's more delicate than most people even if she doesn't show it, and she's easily swayed by her emotions too. I would not tolerate it if he broke her heart just for shits and giggles.”

Simon could hear the bitterness in her voice, and from the look on her face, he could tell that she was reliving some experiences. He was tempted to be petty again, but decided against it. He bumped her shoulder gently with his arm in an attempt to reassure her. 

“Don't worry, darling. I’ll find out.”

End of Part 9.

Part 10 coming soon :)

This chapter was so hard yet so fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it! As always, leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist. Thank youu xoxo

Also, you can follow this fic on the tag (#Simon series), which you can find below!

#call of duty #aoioozora writes #Simon series #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 1

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au Photo credit: quinci Note: Had 'Meddle About' by Chase Atlantic on repeat as I wrote this in one sitting. My first COD fanfiction. Enjoy!

Their hands squeezed against your arms and wrists. You tried to pull and yank away in resistance to their unwanted advances.

“Hey, c'mon, you're cute! You should come with us.” one of them said in a voice that was meant to sound silky and inviting, but came off as sleazy.

Words failed you, all of them stuck in your throat, a large lump of fear blocking them from escaping your lips, tightening within your neck like a balloon about to burst. The memory of self-defense vanished from your muscles as you pitifully tried to fight off three men who were  taller and bigger than you with your pathetic grunts and pleas to be released.

Upon the dark and empty streets, a distant hum of an engine, accompanied by a singular bright light which seemed like a firefly's glow, appeared to he approaching. You took no notice.

The hum of the distant engine grew about as loud as a cat's threatening growl, and the light as that of a strong flashlight. It still didn't catch your notice. 

The growl turned into a loud, deafening roar, seemingly at will, vibrating the still air like an earthquake. It caught all of your attention as it drew near at an alarming speed towards the four of you. 

The three men shrieked with fright, automatically letting your hands go in the process, and covered their faces with their arms. The growling, glowing thing screeched to a halt inches in front of them, sending the sharp smell of burnt rubber up their noses.

When the four of you looked, there stood a shiny, jet black sports motorcycle, upon which sat a rider. He was helmeted, also dressed in ripped black jeans that hugged his tree trunk-like thighs, a black leather jacket that tightened against his muscular arms and broad shoulders. The flickering white light of the street lamp cast a ghastly, ominous glow over him, making him look like some sort of ghost from an urban legend.

The three men recovered from their shock and opened their mouths to berate this biker for interrupting them, but before they even did, the biker flicked up the dark visor of his helmet and revealed his equally dark, glaring eyes. 

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked the biker, enunciating every word, slowly, like he was holding back a dam's amount of rage. His gruff, gravelly, British accented voice was muffled slightly by the balaclava he wore under the helmet, yet every word was heard loud and clear as if they were spoken through a megaphone, and the three men immediately stepped back from you, knowing that messing with another man's girl would have dire consequences. 

You didn't know you had a boyfriend. Yet you played along. 

“Simon!” You cried as you ran to him, going behind the motorcycle and hiding behind his large body. You decided to name him whatever came to mind first.

He sat up straight on his motorcycle to keep you hidden from them as he balanced on the sleek vehicle which rumbled like a distant thunder between his legs. He glared at the three men. “Well?” he asked with a growl that very well sounded the same as the roar of his vehicle's engine. 

They simply backed off without a word, knowing they wouldn't win. The mysterious motorcyclist who you named ‘Simon’, stayed until the three men were out of sight while you still stood behind him, watching them leave. 

“You okay?” he finally asked you when the coast was clear, now turning his dark eyes over his shoulder, where you were standing. 

You let out an exhale you didn't know you were holding. “I'm fine,” You replied with some effort, massaging your aching wrists. 

He paused before replying; he could clearly see that you were rattled by the experience, considering how your eyes still looked apprehensive like that of a hunted rabbit’s. His eyes flickered to your wrists, and he looked back at you. “Did they hurt you?” he asked softly. 

“They just held me tight. I mean, my arms.” You exhaled again, the ache in your wrists easing slightly. Words still seemed to fail you, but they now flowed out a little easier. 

He seemed slightly taken aback by how nonchalantly you said this, like it was a common thing. “Bastards.” he growled in his very distinct accent, clearly not the posh British accent you knew. “This place isn't safe. What were you loitering around here for?” he asked, now holding the handles of his motorcycle as he leaned back and moved his legs, moving the motorcycle backwards so that it was now back on the street. 

You moved away to give him space, and then replied, “A friend of mine lives here. There was a party at her place.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he now leaned forward to cross his arms on the tank of his vehicle. “Do you want to get out of here safely without getting hounded by blokes like those?” he asked. 

“Yes!” you answered immediately. Somehow, you felt like you could trust this man somewhat, especially after he saved you and enquired about your wellbeing after that ordeal. 

He leaned back slightly and patted the pillion behind him. “Get on. I'll be your taxi tonight.”

You blinked. “Are you sure? I don't want to bother you too much.” 

“Look here, lass,” he started, leaning forward again, “I don't know if you know, but besides those cunts, there are muggers here too. And they all wake up at night. If you want to get out of here safely and not be a news report tomorrow, then get on." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll take you wherever you need to go.”

You were surprised by his straightforwardness, yet it somehow seemed apt for a man with a gruff voice and a fearless attitude. Not another word more, you climbed up on the pillion of his motorcycle with some stumbling, but the man was patient, and leaned his motorcycle to the side to lower it slightly, so you could get on easier. As you were doing this, you couldn't help but notice the musky, earthy smell of his perfume, which reminded you of wet soil, rain, and dark chocolate; a positively divine scent.

“What's your name?” You asked as soon as you were comfortably settled on the seat. 

There was a moment's pause before he answered, “Simon,” with an almost careful tone, as if he wanted to see your reaction. 

As he expected, your eyes were wide with surprise. It melted away slightly as you thought he was just playing around with you. "Come on, that's the name I called you by earlier. What's your actual name?"

"It's Simon." he insisted.

You blinked yet again. "What a coincidence," You said laughingly, "I could've never imagined getting your name right on accident."

“I confess, you surprised me there.” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he wanted to say something cheesy, but he stopped himself, remembering that you were a stranger and not his friend. He leaned back again, yet again moving his motorcycle backwards. 

You instinctively took hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady as he moved. You tried to ignore it, but you noted how broad and rugged his shoulders were. 

“So, where d'you wanna go?” he asked, taking hold of the handles and twisting the accelerator, making the motorcycle growl. 

You told him your destination. 

“Not too far. Two minutes if I go at 150.” he said, as if 150 kmph was slow for him. But he looked at you over his shoulder, “You okay going fast?” 

“I've never gone fast before.” 

He figured. "Wanna get a feel of it?"

"Sure, I've not nothing to lose... except my life, if you don't drive safely."

He chuckled, and it sounded oddly cute, unlike his gruff voice. "Just trust me, lass. I'm not gonna turn you into a news report."

"Well, you saved my life just there, I expect you to preserve it." You said with a chuckle. It felt strange that you already seemed comfortable enough with him to joke around.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured as he turned forward and revved the engines again. “You'll fly off, so hold on to me tight.” He said with emphasis. 

“Gotcha.”

He got the wheels running, and started slow. The breeze kissed your face and your hair, and in the cool night, it felt freeing. He twisted the accelerator, going a notch faster. The breeze blew against you like a blow dryer, and you squinted your eyes slightly in order to see the quickly passing landscape of buildings, 24 hour convenience stores, and lighted street lamps. 

He gradually increased the speed so you would not freak out, an oddly considerate thing he did for a complete stranger, something he would not usually ever do. 

As the dial of the speedometer passed the 80s and crossed to the 100s, the breeze, now a gust, started to mercilessly slap your face, not allowing you to open your watering eyes. By this time, you had your arms around his waist and your face stuffed in and hidden behind his large back, holding on to him for dear life, while the smell of his perfume consoled your fears. 

He rode on, completely unfazed by this speed, but a little stiff at the fact that a person, a woman, particularly, was holding on to him. It was out of necessity, of course, yet he couldn't help but feel a little strange about it.

As predicted, in two minutes, he reached your destination, which was thankfully a busy area with people still bustling around the open shops like it was daytime. He halted to a stop where you asked, and you took hold of his shoulder again as you mounted off the high pillion seat.

“Thanks a lot, Simon,” You smiled at him. You took notice of the logo on his helmet that carried the Italian flag in a semi-circle; it seemed to stand out over the glossy black shell of the headgear.

He pushed up his dark visor, and the flag was obscured. He nodded in response as his eyes studied your face, taking in the contours of your features all in a brief moment. "How did the speed feel?" he asked.

"Exhilarating," You replied, feeling your heart thumping wildly.

"In a good way?"

"I guess. It was kind of scary, but I liked it."

He nodded, and in his eyes, you could see that he looked a little pleased by your answer.

“I know it's not much but…” You paused, putting your hand in the pocket of your jacket, causing the contents to ruffle against each other. You pulled out a small, hard red candy wrapped in clear plastic and handed it to him. “... This is a little something for you for helping me out.” 

He stared at the little candy on the palm of your hand, almost ready to refuse it out of modesty. But it was just a little candy. Who could it hurt? His fair hand reached out and took the candy, and both of you noted how tiny the sweet treat looked on his palm. He could crush it with his bare hands if he wanted to. Yet, he held it gently and stashed it in the pocket of his leather jacket, murmuring a word of gratitude that was barely audible under the two layers of his balaclava and his helmet. 

“Well, you take care. And don't hang around in sketchy places like that next time,” he said, as if you were his friend of many years. 

You were warmed by his concern for you, and you smiled, nodding. “After that, I don't think I'll hang around there at this time anymore. I'm sure as hell gonna stay over at my friend's place if I'm there till late.” 

“Excellent choice,” he remarked. “I'll be off now.” 

“Take care.” You smiled at him again, and his eye lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head away. 

He silently revved the engine of his vehicle again and sped off. You stood by the side of the road, watching his figure recede as the distance grew. 

A sense of longing washed over you for this stranger named Simon, and you wondered if you would ever see him again. It was a strange coincidence that you unknowingly guessed his name so correctly, like unknowingly marking the right choice in a multiple choice exam. 

It all came back to you now. The feeling of his rugged shoulder and back under the smooth leather of his jacket; the coarse, gravelly growl of his British accented voice that felt like rubbing coffee powder between your fingers, rough yet pleasing; the scent of his perfume like that of a dark, wet, rainforest; and his eyes… oh, his dark eyes were brooding and mysterious. Under the shade of his helmet, they seemed like swirling little black holes, the gravity around them dense enough to draw you in like a helpless star. 

A shiver passed down your spine as you thought of him, making your cheeks flush with warmth as a distant look reflected in your pining eyes. 

You started your walk back home, thoughts filled to the brim, flooding like a tidal wave with this biker. You were left knowing nothing about him, except for his name:

Simon.

End.

Part 2

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#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #aoioozora writes #Simon series

[aoioozora]

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

Simon.

Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

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

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

“It's pishin’ it doon out here.”

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

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

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get me some tea.” 

“Fuckin’ Brit.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's her.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go talk to her,” Johnny challenged.

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You heard?” she asked with emphasis. 

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

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

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

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

“What's your job?” 

“I'm an author.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“So you're famous then?” 

“Kind of?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny MacTavvy: oi yer tea's getting cauld 

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

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

Fuckin’ Brit: ok 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you, Simon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing. Let's go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The name Simon means ‘to hear’.”

End of Part 2.

Part 3

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #aoioozora writes #Simon series

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” You answered flatly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled triumphantly. “Caught in a lie?” 

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

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

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

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

“Not my cup of tea, ye ken?” he said. 

“ ‘Ye ken’? What's that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, I'll talk to you soon.” 

“Oh, before I go, I was wondering…” he paused, hesitatingly running his hand through his undercut. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to see the pictures we took on our trip?” he asked, and quickly added with, “Maybe they could help you with writing?” 

“Oh yeah! That would be great. Thanks a lot.” 

“Right then, I'll send them right after this call.” 

“Perfect. So, I'll see you later?” 

“See you later, love. Take care.” 

You could practically hear the gentleness oozing from his voice and you shamelessly wished you could have a recording of those very words so you could hear them over and over. You answered, “You too, Simon. Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

You kept your phone down on your dinner table you sat at and sat for a moment in silence. Pushing your laptop aside, you held your face in your hands and squealed like an excited piglet, kicking your legs under your chair. 

“He called! He called!” your thoughts screamed as your entire body went on celebratory mode. The echo of his gruff yet sweet voice reverberated in your mind, and you couldn't help but think of using his voice as the voice of the male lead in your second book.

You held your flushed, burning cheeks in your hands and exhaled heavily. “Oh, calm down, calm down,” You patted your chest where your heart was, as it was throbbing wildly with excitement. 

And then, to make things worse, your notifications went off chiming. It was Simon sending you the photos from the trip, and you immediately took your phone to take a look. He had sent photos of distant mountains, streams, and a couple photos of the backs of his two friends hiking on a beaten trail. 

A particular photo of a row of trees in the forest that shaded the grassy ground was captioned, “This reminded me of your book cover”. You smiled, feeling a little fuzzy that something reminded him of you; not a feeling you were used to. You replied to it:

You: It really does look like the cover! 

As you scrolled down the chat screen to see photos of mountains, flowers, and bugs, which were all beautiful, but the last photo took the cake. It was a candid picture of him walking across an aged stone bridge bathed in the tree filtered light of the evening sun, making his face and clothes speckled with golden yellow. He was looking over his shoulder with a look of surprise in his eyes like he had been called out of the blue. The entire photo was beautiful enough to take your breath away. It was captioned, “Don't mind me. I thought you'd like the bridge. The place is beautiful… would make a good book cover.”

You wrote in reply:

You: you're so right

You paused for a moment, looking at the pictures again. “So this is what the world looks like in his eyes.” 

Mountains, nature, bridges, his two friends, and the reminders of your book were in his field of vision that week. You knew for a fact that people take photos of what they cherish or something interesting, a snippet of time forever frozen into a memory. You felt your cheeks flush again. 

“Maybe…” You found yourself thinking, but you shook your head, telling yourself not to be delusional. 

In the meantime, Simon stood leaning his back on the balustrade of the balcony, staring at your messages of approval for the photos with a relieved smile. 

Author Girl: Thanks for the pictures! They're so beautiful. You guys must've had a lot of fun 

He typed back. 

Simon Riley Biker: We did, it was great 

Simon Riley Biker: I'll text you soon ok? Have to go

Author Girl: okay tc :) 

Simon Riley Biker: you too. Cheers

Author Girl: cheers :) 

Simon shoved his phone back in his pocket, exhaling. The music inside the apartment had died down as his thoughts wandered. He wanted to ask you if you would come on a hike one day, but he didn't want to come off sounding like a serial killer. He was already aware that his size and his voice were intimidating to most. 

But you seemed to be mesmerized by it. 

Simon walked back inside the apartment where his two friends, Johnny and Gaz, were found fallen over each other on his sofa like dominoes, tired from all the dancing. Johnny had fallen on one of the cushions, while Gaz had his head resting on Johnny's thigh, and his legs hoisted up on the arm rest. These two sure were comfortable. 

“Done dancing?” asked Simon, standing over the two. 

“Done talking to your missus?” asked Gaz, who was a handsome, lean, and dark skinned fellow whose real name was Kyle. He was also an Englishman. 

Simon, who was normally unmasked in front of his friends, scrunched his nose in a sneer. “She's not my girlfriend.” 

“That's not what Johnny told me,” smirked Gaz, glancing at Johnny who was already half-asleep, having spent his energy. Johnny grunted sleepily at the mention of his name, and went right back to sleep. 

“Mate, she's not my girlfriend,” insisted Simon, “She's a friend that I happened to save twice by pretending to be her boyfriend.” 

Gaz raised a brow. “A friend? Thought you never wanted any girl friends.” 

That reminder got him thinking. He didn't, really. But maybe he wanted to change that. 

“She's nice,” he admitted quietly, not wanting to come off sounding enthusiastic.

“Go on and steal her heart then, lad!” Gaz exclaimed, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. 

Simon thoughtfully ran a hand over his left cheek, his fingers running over his stubble, but more so over the groove of an old scar that reached from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone, one of the many that told a story of a troubled youth. 

“I doubt she'll want her heart stolen when she sees this,” replied Simon, pointing to the scar as he pushed Johnny's head aside and sat down on the sofa. 

Gaz now sat up. “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.” He looked at Simon with raised eyebrows and rested his fist under his chin, looking at his friend like a disappointed parent. “She even gave you her number. That's a massive green light!” he motioned to the novel the novel on the coffee table with his hand exasperatedly, “She's clearly got more balls than you.” 

Simon looked back at Gaz, and a momentary staring match ensued. “What if she's just being friendly?” asked Simon, raising an eyebrow to challenge Gaz. 

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” Gaz shook his head, now growing a little impatient, “Life's too short to worry about being rejected. Don't wanna have regrets now, do we? What if she gets taken by someone else? What you gon’ do then, huh?”

Simon was still unsure but Gaz did have a point. He sighed, relenting, “Fine. I'll try.” 

Gaz smiled proudly. “That's my boy!”

Simon retreated to the bathroom to think. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his rugged face. While he was only in his late twenties, he easily looked thirty-five thanks to his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his strong cheekbones, and his untrimmed beard; he was a lifeless thing sometimes, and that's why he earned the endearing moniker of 'Ghost' from his friends. The scar on his face stood out like a sore thumb and he rubbed the base of his palm over it, a vain attempt at trying to remove the ugly thing.

He looked at his hand, another rugged thing, calloused more than anything from holding on to knives and people too tight. More scars peeked from under the sleeve of his jumper, numerous and woeful pale lines crossing over each other like scattered toothpicks, all of them staring at him under the intersections of his black tattoos.

His vision blurred as he thought of her smile, that beautiful grin which would crinkle her nose and the corners of her beautiful, shining eyes; she appeared to him the personification of purity and sweetness; that was his deduction of her from their short acquaintance, and he felt like he could not be mistaken.

He could see how she looked at him, stared at him even. He could hear how happy and excited she sounded when he finally called. Practically everything was telling him to respond to her advances without fear.

And yet standing before him was a seemingly insurmountable wall that he erected to keep himself out of the world's notice. His distant eyes focused on the scars on his hand and then at the one on his face. "Would she really want all of this?" His thoughts swirled like cesspools as he continued to stare at himself. He didn't know the first thing about her, and yet his insecurity condemned him, saying that he was no saint compared to her.

Of a truth, he wasn't a saint, but must it hold him back? Gaz and Johnny would beg to differ.

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” his friend's voice echoed in his thoughts.

He murmured, now standing up straight, "I hear you, Gaz."

End of Part 3.

Part 4

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #aoioozora writes #Simon series

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

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

Note: Longer chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it. anyway, if anyone knows who the artist of this art below is, please let me know. I find it all on Pinterest and I can't seem to trace the artist 🥲.

The steady, bubbling stream of cold tap water hitting Simon's warm, weary, grimy hands as he washed them was a respite from the busyness of the day. 

He was, by profession, a car mechanic in the servicing department for a glitzy car brand. The day was booked to the brim with cars that needed maintenance and repair from accidents, and it was enough work for him to feel a dull ache in his shoulders, and a tremble in his hands as he lathered them generously with soap. 

A weary sigh tried to escape his lips, only to be hindered by the mask he wore day in and day out. He felt his own warm breath against his mouth and cringed; an unwelcome feeling after working in the sweltering garage. 

When he found that he was all alone in the loo, he took the opportunity to take off his mask, actually and properly sigh, and wash his face. He quickly wiped it down with a handkerchief, and not allowing a moment for his skin to breathe, he put the mask back on. 

A phone call came in as he was stepping out. It was her. He found it a little odd to get a call from her, as the two mostly texted. 

“Maybe it's something urgent,” thought Simon, now stopping by the door of the restroom. 

“Hey, you alright, love?” he asked as soon as he picked up. 

“I'm fine, Simon, but I kinda have an emergency.” Her voice came from the other end, sounding a little frantic, making him worry a little. 

“What's up?” 

“My car broke down, and I don't know what it is. I have the bonnet open and everything looks so confusing.”

“Where are you now?” 

She told him. 

“Okay, you wait there. I'll be there in,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes… Or as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she exhaled her relief. 

“Are you with someone?” 

“No, I'm alone.” 

Simon's jaw tightened. “Make sure you sit inside the car and lock the doors. It's getting dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Got it.” 

The call soon ended and Simon quickly changed out of his uniform to his normal clothes which consisted of a v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and his staple: the leather jacket. Having taken all his stuff, he clocked out and immediately mounted his motorcycle to fly over to your rescue. 

Seeing that the sun had set already, he went faster. He reached her in fifteen minutes. Upon spotting her car parked by the side of the road away from the traffic, he slowed down and parked his motorcycle in front of her car. 

He saw the bonnet of the car slightly open, and was upset by it. “She's practically advertising to the world that her car's broken down. That could get more attention drawn to her,” he thought as he kicked out the stand and swung his leg over the motorcycle, now laying a heavy step on the asphalt. 

The stench of rotten eggs filled the air, and he already knew what the problem was. While he took off his helmet, he watched as she quickly opened your door and came out of the car to greet him. 

“Oh good, you're finally here,” she smiled, looking relieved. 

“Tell me what's going on,” Simon got down to business immediately, now taking off his black leather gloves that had printed on them the bones of the hand and stuffing them in his pocket. 

She led him to the open bonnet of the car, and the stench overwhelmed his nose even through the mask. She told him about a sputtering engine. 

“Did you see any dashboard signs telling you to check the engine?” he asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Can you sit inside and turn on the radio for me? And turn on the headlights too,” Simon instructed. 

She did as told. The radio didn't turn on, and the headlights were dim. He turned to the open bonnet and stared particularly at the battery. One of the connectors and pipes was caked with a teal powder; he called her out of the car, pointing out the discovery. 

“Your battery is leaking out acid, bringing out all this bloody minging smell,” he said, brushing a bit of the teal powder with his finger. “Leaking battery and a stench means you have to get a new battery.” He now rubbed the powder off and put his hands on his hips, asking, “When was the last time you had the battery changed?” 

“Six years ago? When I bought the car.”

Simon was appalled by how nonchalantly she said it. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Six years? You cannot be serious.” he could feel his mechanic heart breaking at the sound of such neglect. “Your battery is ancient. The maximum life of this thing is six years.” 

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as he said this. “I didn't know that. I'm not good with cars, you know. I just rolled with whatever the mechanics in the service center did.”

“Fucking hell,” Simon sighed, exasperated as he looked at the battery again. “Looks like the service center mechanics weren't doing a very good job,” he shook his head again. “Batteries dying of old age are common, but this looks absolutely nasty. Almost looks like it's been neglected. You've been duped!” He said with passion. 

Her eyebrows furrowed at this and funnily enough, she couldn't help but feel like she was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with a blond Englishman scolding her; the only difference being that a failing car was involved and not a failing kitchen. 

He glanced at her, and saw that she had her arms crossed as she looked at the open bonnet of the car with a guilty and helpless look on her face. Simon's eyes softened with compassion and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“I'll call someone to tow the car to a better service center. I know a good one,” he said, hoping to assure her, “If we can get there now, they can fix in a new battery for you.”

Without waiting for an answer from her, he immediately called a towing company for the car, and then the service center to give them a heads up that he was bringing a car in. He even managed to bag a discount! 

She watched with amazement as he made all these phone calls, words flying out like a hurricane as he paced about the pavement, hand on his hip. The more passionate he seemed about wanting to help, the more the guilt and embarrassment pressed in her heart. 

When all the phone calls were done, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the device back in his jeans. “Right then,” he said, “I've got you all covered. Now we wait.”

She nodded and watched him curiously for a moment before asking, “You know all those people?” 

“Yeah, all friends of mine. I'm a regular at the service center for my motorcycle. As for the towing company, the boss is a friend of a friend.” 

“Must be great to have a lot of connections, huh?” 

Simon nodded. “I've always tried to have as many connections as possible because someone once told me that it's not about what you know, but who you know.” 

She saw a solemn, distant, and thoughtful look pass through his eyes for a split second, as if thinking of a past memory. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “It's too fucking hot here,” he hissed as he peeled off his leather jacket. 

This action gave her the opportunity to see him in a short sleeved shirt, which displayed his pale yet muscular arms, which clearly were built strong out of continuous use and not for a mere decoration. The entirety of his left arm was inked with intricate black tattoos, all the designs of skulls, roses, and guns fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was understatement to say that she felt her ovaries explode at the sight. 

Simon was intentional when he took off his jacket, although it was true that he did feel hot. A glance at her told him that she didn't seem to take notice of his muscles or his tattoos, a disappointment to him. But he wasn't keen enough to catch her quick, stealthy glances at his arms as her thoughts ran wild again in trying to be superfluous in her descriptions of them.

She couldn't help but think to herself that, “He'd make the perfect mysterious male lead of a dark romance.”

The tow truck arrived and before she knew it, she was Simon's passenger on his motorcycle, entrusted with his leather jacket. The two led the truck to the service center, and all the while, she was pressed against his warm back, highly conscious of the fact that the barrier between his back and her face was just a thin t-shirt and not a thick leather jacket like the first.

Her authorly brain couldn't help but turn this into a sort of metaphor. Was it a thinning of the barriers between him and her, now that they've been friends for over a month? 

“Let's not overanalyze this, shall we?” she reminded herself, gently squeezing her arms around him as he sped down the roads, trying to ignore how she could feel the contours of his body under the thin fabric. 

Fixing the car took a couple tedious hours, but Simon made sure to be with his friend throughout, explaining to her in excruciating detail whatever he could about the functioning of a car so that she would not be duped again. She appreciated his lectures and listened attentively, even though he wasn't the best at explaining things. 

At the end of it all, the two sat down in her newly fixed car for some cold soda that she bought for him. The air conditioning was running well (Simon was relieved), and so was the radio, which was now tuned to a station softly playing some old timey American songs in the background. 

“You were a great help,” she said as she cracked open the tab of the can as Simon did. 

“My pleasure, love,” he raised his can and tapped it gently with her can. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” she grinned, and then paused to look at him, wondering if he would remove his mask, as he had never done so in front of her before. 

Simon found himself in a bit of a predicament as he stared at his can of soda. He was usually more mindful of his mask when he was with strangers and acquaintances, but with the fuss of the car and all his chatting with her, he completely forgot that drinking soda would have to make him take off the mask. 

Would he remove his mask when he didn't yet want to, even though he wanted to share this drink with her? He glanced back at her and found her silently drinking her soda and staring ahead, pretending not to notice his mental debate. 

Gaz's reprimand came to mind again, “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.”

He wasn't wrong. Now that Simon thought of it, the sooner he showed his marred face to her, the lesser it would hurt if she rejected him. 

“Don't overthink it,” he told himself as he slipped his finger under the ear loop of his mask and pulled it over his ear, making the mask slip off to reveal the lower part of his face. He sat back, casually as he could, and took off the other ear loop so wouldn't awkwardly dangle from his other ear, all the while trying to ignore how naked he felt without the covering. 

“Soda's pretty good, isn't it?” she asked, turning to look at him. 

“Hm, yes,” he answered in a murmur, now taking the first sip of his soda and pulling away the can for her to finally look at his face. 

He saw her looking, and his heart rate spiked and cheeks flushed (thank heavens it was dark), waiting for a reaction from her.

She finally had the privilege of seeing his face, and in a split second, she tried to make the most of it. His face as a whole was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He had a rectangular face, high and prominent cheekbones; a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a light stubble across his jaw and cheeks. 

He squirmed slightly in his seat and looked away, taking another sip. Seeing that he was uncomfortable being looked at, she too looked away, now feeling shy that she was in the presence of such a gorgeous man. Why on earth did he cover his face was a mystery to her. 

She began, her voice unwittingly rising to a higher pitch, “Seriously though, I don't know how I went years without having anyone to consult me about cars.” 

Simon blinked in surprise that she didn't make any comments on his face after looking at him, and wasn't sure whether to consider it a good thing or a bad thing. He decided to worry about it later. 

“Not a single person?” he asked, instinctively and slightly leaning towards her as she spoke.

“Not one.”

“And did you never notice any problems with the car before we took it to be fixed today?”

“I did, and I wheeled the car off to the service center many times only to be shut down saying that it wasn't a big deal and it would resolve itself,” she shrugged. 

“They said that? Fucking twats they all are,” said he with a low grumble. 

“Unfortunately,” she shrugged again, watching how his lips curled upwards into a sneer of displeasure and how his nose crinkled along with it. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Simon shifted in his seat slightly and held out his can-holding hand at her, flicking out his pointer finger to make a point, “you don't need to worry about those bastards when you got me, yeah? If you got any car problems, I'll fix them for you.”

He saw her eyes soften at this proposal, but she glanced away for a moment, as if considering it with some hesitation. He knew her just enough to know that she had trouble accepting help when she needed it. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed gently to encourage her,

“You know I'm a car mechanic, and a fucking good one too.” He sat back in the seat, now drowning the last of his soda. “You won't have to call anyone else when you have me. Just hit me up, and I'll be there…” he paused to meet her eye, hoping to let her know he was completely serious, “... Just like tonight.” 

This didn't fail to cause a flutter in her chest. She smiled, genuinely warmed and touched by how eager he was to help. “Thanks, Simon.”

His cheeks raised up to his eyes as he smiled, and the lady was taken in by how sweet it was. Their eyes met again, and the two felt an undeniable tension in the air; sparks flying around them, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. 

The soft yellow headlights of a passing vehicle shone into the car, momentarily brightening up his pale face and his deep brown eyes into soft pools of honey. The light, for a brief moment, also revealed a prominent scar on his cheek, something that the earlier darkness hid from her sight. 

Yet again did her authorly brain try to turn this moment into a metaphor. Was this gentle flash of passing light meant to shine upon a part of him behind his dark veil, his mask of mystery, to reveal bright, affectionate eyes, and a curious yet faint scar? Could this have been a sign of their ever growing closeness?

As the light passed, his honey eyes darkened again; they narrowed slightly and he leaned forward just a little, his breathing laboured, as if he wanted to say something. The lady squirmed in her seat and felt her chest tighten as she silently watched him, unable to look away. 

“I was wondering…” he began, now pausing to inhale, “if we could hang out any time soon, just both of us,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could, and he quickly added, “I'm about to finish your novel, Firefly Trails, and I was hoping we could talk more about it…” he paused, feeling his entire body grow warm with nervous anticipation, “And maybe you could suggest some more books I could read.” 

Her eyes lit up at this invitation. “Sure! I'd love to. When are you free?”

“I'm free this weekend.” 

“Alright, that sounds good.” she grinned.

Simon was relieved to hear the eagerness in her voice, and took it that she still wanted something to do with him. The two went on to decide the particulars of the hangout for a while, until a phone call interrupted. Simon pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw who was calling. 

“What do you want, Johnny?” 

“Where are ye? Ye were s'posed to be at the gym thirty minutes ago. I'm waiting!” complained Johnny. 

“Ah, blimey,” Simon shook his head, “Completely forgot. ____ had some car trouble so I went to help her out.”

Simon was met with teasing jeers from his friend, making him groan. “Wheesht!” Simon hissed, only for it to make Johnny cackle. “Look, I'll be right there. Give me…” he looked at his watch, “Fifteen minutes.” 

“Make it quick lad, or you'll get a bollocking from me.” 

“Fuck off now. You'll delay me.” 

The call ended and Simon looked at her, sighing. “Gotta go,” he said. 

A subtle pout pushed out her lower lip. “Too bad, and we were just starting to get into our planning too.”

He chuckled, feeling warmed by her sentiment. “Yeah, but don't worry darling, we have the entire week ahead of us to plan comfortably, yeah?” 

She nodded, smiling. 

“Right then,” he slapped his knees, “I'll see you around then, alright? You take care on your way back.”

“You too, Simon.”

He sighed, pausing for a moment to take in the way she said his name. He never wanted to admit it to her, but he loved every instance she uttered it. The way she'd drag out the first syllable a little, and look at him with those gorgeous, killer eyes of hers as she did; it was enough for a man of his size and strength to melt like a little cube of ice in the palm of her hand. A simple action, yet it riled him up enough to want to kiss the living hell out of her. 

He inhaled, trying to get every carnal urge under control. “Text me when you reach, alright?” he said in a mildly strained voice. 

“Sure, will do.” she nodded. 

That being said and good-night's exchanged, Simon quickly put his mask back on, got out of the car, and threw the empty can in a bin. She watched as he made his way to his waiting motorcycle, observing his gait, the way his hips, shoulders, and arms moved in clockwork, relaxed but determined. She found herself leaning against the steering wheel again to stare at the way he hoisted up his leg and swung it in a smooth sweep over his motorcycle, and then settled down on the vehicle, making the shock absorbers bounce back slightly against his weight. 

She gazed with interest as he put on his gloves and then grabbed the helmet, only to raise his chin up to let gravity comb his gorgeous blond hair down so that it stayed out of his way as he put the headgear. His biceps flexed and tightened against the short sleeve of his t-shirt, and even from a little distance away, she could see how his tattoos moved against the contours of his muscles like ocean waves. 

He looked back at her and caught her staring. At the sight of her relentless gaze, all he could hear in his head was Gaz telling him to shoot his shot. Her smiles, her acceptance to meet again were, and especially her stating were all massive green lights for him, yet he was still in partial disbelief. 

Meeting her eyes again gave him a jolt down his spine, and waved one last time before he left. She smiled sheepishly and waved back at him, blushing at the fact that she was caught.  

He rode off, leaving her the echo of the roar of the engine, and she sat back in her driver's seat, finishing the last sips of the lukewarm soda in her hand that she completely forgot about. His figure receded in the distance and she remembered the first time she met him. 

“He's been saving me since back then.” she chuckled to herself, feeling a little ashamed at how helpless she found herself to be. But she was more than grateful for his help, and for the fact that he never complained and was so eager to assist her. It was the third time he helped her out, and it was almost as if he'd come running back all over again if she called. 

He certainly lived up to his name. 

And then there was his face. She allowed her mind to wander as she thought of his rugged, masculine features; she didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly unexpected to find such a handsome man hiding under that mask. She could make out only a little in the partial darkness, of his rectangular face and sturdy, stubble-speckled jaw, and of the slope of his shapely, sharp nose. She sighed, suddenly longing to study his face in proper light, and perhaps get lost in his honey eyes. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached to her backpack in the backseat for her phone, and found that Simon had left his leather jacket in the back when they had sat down in the front to drink their sodas. 

“Better send him a text.” she thought to herself as she informed him. 

That being done, she kept the phone aside and took the jacket to inspect it. It was obvious that it was made of faux leather, but it was smooth to touch. The lining inside was tartan patterned with dark green and blue, which seemed an odd choice for lining, but she wasn't one to judge. She held the garment against her torso, and as she expected, it was huge. 

“Let's not get creepy with it, shall we?” she reminded herself, now keeping the jacket on her lap as she got the engine running again. 

She drove back home with the jacket, repeatedly telling herself to not be creepy with it, only for her to immediately try it on as soon as she stepped in. 

“It's so comfortable!” she exclaimed as she felt the loose jacket sag around her body and her arms. She stuffed her hands in the pockets and found that they were massive. “Unbelievable... they make men's clothes so much better.”

She pulled away the front of the jacket to feel the tartan lining, and it felt like touching a thick blanket. The jacket was perfect for a cold winter and for the rains that had been pouring lately. 

She pulled it closer against herself, and the lingering scent of his perfume wafted to her nose. It was the same smell of a damp rainforest and dark chocolate, the scent of which immediately took her back to the day she met him.

"Is this what it would feel like to hug him?" she wondered, feeling her cheeks flush warm as she thought of the prospect of being held in those finely sculpted arms.

Her phone chimed, indicating a message. 

Simon Riley Biker: sorry about that, can u keep the jacket with u until we meet again? 

Simon Riley Biker: also have u reached? 

She smiled and started typing her reply.

Author Girl: Sure! 

Author Girl: And yes I did just now 

Simon Riley Biker: right then, I'll catch you soon, ok? At the gym rn

Author Girl: okay! Have a good workout :) 

Simon Riley Biker: thanks darling

On the other side of the phone, Simon was seated in the gym locker rooms by himself, phone in hand, thumbs dancing over the screen up and down as he wondered what he should type next. As he did, a new message came in.

Author Girl: thanks again for helping me out with the car. You saved me yet again 

He chuckled at and started typing, the smile not leaving his half covered face. 

Simon Riley Biker: my pleasure, don't worry about it. U can call me again if you have car problems 

Author Girl: you're too kind 😂 but thanks a lot again 

Simon Riley Biker: anytime darling 

Author Girl: alright then, I'm gonna get some sleep. Good night! 

Simon paused, feeling his heart rate increase for a moment as he thought of something he wanted to do. Swallowing down his nervousness, he did it anyway. 

Simon Riley Biker: [audio: 0:03 seconds] 

He never sent an audio message to her before, and wondering what he could have sent, held the phone speakers to her ear and played it. 

“Good night, love,” came the crisp, clear audio recording in her ear. His normally gruff voice sounded subdued and gentle, smooth, almost oozing with a soft, subtle hint of adoration, especially at the endearment. 

The lady was left stunned, mouth hanging open slightly and her feet affixed to the floor, unable to believe for a moment what she just heard. Butterflies and tingles swarmed every inch of her body, and her cheeks flushed yet again. She played it again. And again. And again. 

Simon, in the meantime, worried about her lack of response, wondering if he was too bold in sending her a voice message. He finally saw that she was typing, and she sure did take a while to collect her thoughts to write a coherent and absolutely calm reply in the form of:

Author Girl: good night, Simon :) 

The conversation ended there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. Standing up, he slipped his phone in his pocket and left to get to his workout done with Johnny, unable to stop thinking of her and her smiles.

In the meantime, she stepped into the bathroom for her night routine. Her thoughts too were filled to the brim with Simon while she bathed and did her simple skin care routine all on autopilot. Every other thing that happened during the day was completely overridden just by the presence of that biker, his voice, his warm gaze upon her, his smile, his face. 

She couldn't shake off the feeling, especially of his voice message in her thoughts that played like a broken vinyl record. She was sure that every single interaction she had with him would make it into her next book in some form or other. 

She slipped into her nightwear and then hung his jacket on the coat hook in the corner of her room, resisting the temptation to cuddle with the garment. She finally tucked herself in bed, surrounded by her cushions and plush animals. As soon as the night lamp was switched off and she had nearly sunk in and molded comfortably into her bed and pillows, she played the recording again, the cherry on top to end the long day. 

“Good night, love.” 

It felt like a kiss to the forehead.

End of Part 4.

Part 5

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #aoioozora writes #Simon series

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 5

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

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

Note: Enjoy Simon being a gentleman in this part 😉. I can't find a nice pic to post here so maybe I'll skip that. Anyway, just wanted to let y'all know that in this fic, reader is 25 years old and Simon is 28.

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub, leave her Johnny, leave- oi, ye cannae be serious. Take off that mask!”

Johnny's singing was interrupted by Simon, who was just entering his living room, dressed and ready to leave to meet ____. He looked at the agitated Johnny, who was now sitting up straight on the couch. 

“What d'you mean?” Simon asked, pretending not to have understood or heard his friend. 

“The maaask. Take it off,” Johnny ordered, gesticulating wildly, “Why'd ye want tae wear it if ye showed yer face to her already?”

Simon rolled his eyes, now taking off the mask, making Johnny smile. He settled back on the couch comfortably. “That's more like it. Oh, also… Catch.” Johnny stuffed his hand in his pocket and threw something at Simon, which he caught. 

It was a condom. 

“Johnny! I don't fucking need this!” Simon roared, throwing back the contraceptive, which hit his friend in the face and fell on his lap. 

“Ye don't? So yer gonna rrrrrawdog her then, are ye, ye animal?” Johnny smirked, clearly trying to annoy Simon, especially by rolling his r's more than usual.

“Johnny…” Simon's voice lowered to a threatening growl. 

The room thundered with Johnny's laughter; having known Simon too long, he wasn't threatened by him, but he relented regardless, not wanting him to be in a bad mood before meeting his crush. “Okay, okay, if ye have nae use for a condom, I have something better for ye.” He beckoned his friend to sit with him on the couch. 

“This better be good.” Simon narrowed his eyes, noting a mischievous glint in his best friend's eyes as he sat down. 

“She's an author, yeah? Those book lassies will love this. I'll tell ye.” 

In the meantime, Simon's crush found herself in front of her mirror getting dolled up by her best friend, Lindsey, who turned the bathroom into a university lecture hall. 

“Tell you what, babe,” said she as she very lightly brushed some blush on her friend's cheeks, “Boys will never make the first move, yeah? So you have to openly flirt with them, right? You literally have to hold up a sign at them telling them you're interested.” 

____ tried to chuckle, but Lindsey lightly slapped her shoulder. “Don't move yet,” she ordered, throwing her long, curly red hair over her shoulder. 

Lindsey finished up the simple, natural looking makeup look and spritzed some setting spray on her friend's face. ____ still didn't dare move, because Lindsey was checking for any mistakes, scanning with her big green eyes. A bit of an odd thing to do, especially after putting the setting spray. 

“Lovely!” she exclaimed, slamming down the can of setting spray on the bathroom counter, “Now you can move.” 

While ____ admired herself and Lindsey's makeup skills in the mirror, Lindsey watched, her smile slowly disappearing; her shoulders slumped slightly as she moved behind her friend, giving her a worried look in the mirror. 

“What's wrong, Linny?” she asked, noticing the look. 

“This Simon guy… Is he really good?” Lindsey whispered, lightly squeezing the other's shoulders while glancing at the phone on the bathroom counter. “He's not like the other guy, right?” 

____’s brows furrowed slightly. She placed her hand over Lindsey's and squeezed it. “Don't worry, Simon's nice, and we're actually a lot closer in age, if that's what worries you.” 

Lindsey was relieved about the smaller age gap, but didn't look completely convinced. She said, “He's nice so far. You do know that a crush is a lack of information, right?” 

The only infuriating thing about Lindsey was how she could get a little too realistic. 

____ sighed. “Linny, that's the whole reason why I'm going to hang out with him: to find out if he's better than nice.”

Lindsey huffed, but nodded anyway. “Okay, but if anything happens, you know who to call.” 

“You worry too much.” 

“Because you're literally so hopeless when it comes to men.” Lindsey let out a chuckle as she lovingly wrapped her arms around her friend's neck and gave her a back hug. ____ leaned into it, grateful for the concern of her ever worrying friend. 

It was soon time to leave. The two ladies headed downstairs to the entrance of the building, where ____ was to wait for Simon to pick her up. Since Lindsey had other plans, she couldn't wait with her friend, and had to go. 

And so did ____ wait by herself, watching the cars go by on the glistening, wet streets. The night air was cold from an earlier rain, and the jacket in her hands seemed to be calling her to wear it and feel warm. 

“I hope he won't find it weird if I wear his jacket,” she thought as she put the garment on after much mental debate. The warmth immediately silenced her thoughts, and she just decided to enjoy it while it lasted. 

Before long, Simon pulled up to the entrance, but the pillion was occupied by an unfamiliar man with a cheeky smile and a short, dark brown mohawk. As he got off, he whispered something to Simon and then turned around. The man grinned at the waiting lady and then walked off. She, confused, returned the gesture with a little smile of her own and then walked up to Simon. 

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as she was near the motorcycle. 

“Don't mind him. He's my friend, Johnny. I had to drop him off around here since he had some stuff to do, so…” he shrugged. “Were you waiting long?” 

She smiled. “Not at all. I came out just five minutes ago.” 

“Brilliant,” he said with a nod and then took notice of her outfit. “You're wearing my jacket,” he observed, sounding amused. 

She noticed his cheeks going up from behind his mask; a smile. “Uh, yeah,” she answered, blushing a little, “I'm sorry, I felt a little cold so I put it on.” 

“No worries.” His voice mellowed as he stared at her, taking in the sight of her in his jacket, “Keep it on. You look good in it.” 

“Thanks,” she grinned, now taking hold of his shoulder as she got up on the pillion. 

Johnny was in the distance, watching the two with wide smiles. He even managed to secretly snap a few photos of them as they talked so that he could tease Simon with it later. 

“Hey you! Delete that picture right now!” a high pitched voice ordered behind Johnny, making him flinch in surprise. 

He immediately turned around, but saw nobody. But when he looked down, he saw a little lady in front of him, arms crossed and staring at him with furrowed brows. 

Johnny, for a moment, was taken in by her beauty. Her pale face was dotted with red freckles, more intense on her cheeks, and her hair was a deep red like the color of the setting sun, loosely coiled like curled satin ribbons. Her flashing eyes were a light green, the color of grass reflecting evening sunlight.

It took a moment for him to regain himself, and when he did, he cleared his throat, saying, “Lassie, that's my friend there,” he answered, pointing to Simon, “I'm gonna tease him with this photo. I'm no’ gonna delete it.” 

“And that girl with him is my friend,” she declared, “And I don't really trust that guy she's going out with today.” 

Johnny wasn't sure what prompted her to say that, but his eyebrows rose with intrigue anyway.

“Small world,” he remarked and then put forward a proposal with a wide grin, “Tell ye wit, wee lassie, we can dae something together. Let's both stalk them. Ye get to see my lad Simon in a good light, and I get to take some candids of them, yeah? Wit dae ye think?” He opened both his hands out to her and batted his eyelids, hoping she would accept. 

“No!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms, “It's not good to stalk.” 

Johnny groaned. “But dinnae ye want tae see if Simon is good for yer best friend? This is a win-win situation! I can show ye all his good points!” 

“You're only saying that because you're his friend,” she challenged. 

“No, no, listen here lassie,” he waved his hand, now meeting her eye, “I've known Simon since we were wee lads. I know everything about him, and I can assure ye that he's good. Let him have a chance, won't ye?”

The little lady paused. Was she going to trust him? While she wanted her friend to be happy, she didn't want to sabotage her friend's chances with her crush because of her incessant worrying. 

Johnny could see her mental debate and smirked at how funny her thoughtful face looked; it was a sneer with furrowed brows, while her fingers tapped over her crossed arms. She eventually relented. 

“Perfect! Now we go stalk them.” He held out his hand to her. “By the way, I'm John, or Johnny.”

She cautiously took his hand and shook it, answering, “Lindsey.” 

Simon and ____ already reached the restaurant they decided to have dinner in. He led her to a quieter part of the establishment where they could chat in peace, and just as she was about to pull out her chair to sit, he held out his hand to stop her. 

“Allow me,” he smiled and pulled out the chair for her. 

Her face glowed with joy and excitement at this display of chivalry as she sat down. Her reaction made him smirk to himself, mentally thanking Johnny for this important tip. 

“You're such a gentleman,” she praised, smiling widely as she watched him take his seat opposite to her, “I know we're in the age of the strong, independent woman, but wow, it's actually really nice to be treated like this.”

Her blushes were encouragement enough, and he smiled. 

“Thank you, I try,” he bragged. “Do you normally like this sort of thing? Or do you like it from me?” he asked with a chuckle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. 

She laughed, not yet willing to admit that she liked it especially from him. She answered, “I like it generally. It’s just nice to know that someone is thoughtful enough to do a gesture like that, you know? Even though it was the standard back in the day.”

Simon took mental note of that. 

Any further conversation was interrupted when a waiter brought them two menus and glasses of water. While the two pored over the laminated card to decide what to get, the lady was momentarily distracted by the sight of the man in front of her. 

He wore a black button up shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up his thick forearm, the rest of it tightening around his flexed biceps; the unbuttoned collar displayed his neck and a metal chain underneath, which made her wonder what was dangling at the end of it. He wore blue chinos, and black sneakers. It was the best casual outfit he could put together with Johnny's help. 

The outfit, in addition to his handsome, unobscured face was a treat to sore eyes. She couldn't help but allow her eye to linger on the curious scar on his cheek, and to wonder about the cause of it. 

Simon noticed her gaze and he met her eyes with a cheeky smile. “You're staring,” he told her. 

One corner of her lip tugged upwards in a sheepish smirk. “I was just thinking your outfit looks really nice.” 

“Thank you, I try,” he echoed his earlier line with a smirk and a proud shrug, but really, he would've been hopeless without Johnny giving him such meticulous advice on the basic rules of dressing well. “You look nice too,” he decided to turn the tables on her, “Especially wearing that.” He pointed at his jacket that she was still wearing. 

She blushed at that. “I can't take it off. It's nice and toasty in here.” 

“I don't mind you wearing it for the rest of the evening, so long as you give it back later. It's my favourite.” 

She grinned. “I'll take good care of it.” 

The waiter came by again, and the two placed an order for a 12 inch pizza to share and some drinks.

Small talk was made, until it led to the topic of her novel. 

“I only just finished reading Firefly Trails a couple days ago and I must say that you're a brilliant author,” Simon praised, “I could not have expected a plot twist when Adelheid was betrayed by Elystran just to get a hold of the magical fireflies.”

The lady snorted proudly and jokingly patted herself on the back. “You can count on me to make a good plot twist.” 

“No, but seriously. I really didn't see it coming,” Simon leaned forward slightly with eagerness twinkling in his dark eyes, “You see a friend betraying someone all the time in the media, yeah? But this one was so unexpected, especially when Elystran stole the bottle of captive fireflies from Adelheid. It's really awful how he had no remorse in potentially letting her die without a cure for her disease, just so he could save the kingdom he was going to rule. He was a very convincing actor.”

She found herself gazing at him as he went on with his long winded speech about Elystran, the anti-hero of her novel, who pretended to be Adelheid's close ally. It was heartwarming to her to see his enthusiasm for her work, but she also wondered if he resonated with Elystran in some way. 

Simon's pale face was a little pink with exertion after the speech and he finally sat back, tugging at his collar and flapping his shirt. “A bit hot in here, innit?” he asked. 

“The air con is working just fine. I think it's because of your passionate speech that you're feeling so hot,” she said with a grin. 

Simon's pink face turned a hint more pink at the observation. He was usually reserved with people he knew a little less, but he hadn't realised how passionate and talkative he had gotten about a fictional character. He could attest this to the fact that she wrote so well as to stir his normally taciturn feelings. Art never stirred his soul, but if hers did, he was damned. 

He nodded, admitting, “Well, it was because you write so well. Anyone who doesn't talk so passionately about it is missing a few bolts.”

The high regard in the compliment made her giggle. She rested her chin on her hand and looked teasingly at him, saying, “So, you told me that you're getting more into reading thanks to Firefly Trails.” 

“I never wanted to be a reader, but it's all your fault now that you're turning me into one.” Simon unconsciously mirrored her as he smirked, returning her look with his playful sarcasm.

“I'm honored,” she grinned at him, “Do you want recommendations for more books?” 

Simon pulled out his phone and opened the notes app. He handed the phone to her. “Fill my cup, darling.”

A wide smile graced her face as she excitedly snatched the phone and started typing away her list of recommended books. Simon watched her with wonder, smiling at her enthusiasm. He was truly interested in reading now, thanks to her, and to see her so excited about suggesting him more made him feel loved, in a way. 

And the love of a woman was truly something different, even if it was just platonic. 

He sighed as he stared at her, at how focused she was on typing out the list. When he thought of it, he couldn't really remember if he had a normal friendship with anyone of the opposite sex before, all thanks to his unhappy, troubled youth. 

“By the way, Simon,” she called, now lifting her eyes from his phone, only to be met with his thoughtful thousand yard stare directed at her.

“Simonnnn, can you hear me?” she called again, snapping a finger in his face. 

“Huh?” he blinked. “Oh, fuck. Sorry, I was just thinking of something.” 

“It's alright,” she smiled, wondering what his stare meant. She asked, “I was wondering why you call me darling and love so often.” 

His eyes rolled off elsewhere as he tried to think of an answer that wouldn't give away what he felt for her. “Well,” he began, voice quivering slightly, “It's just something I call the women in my life, yeah? Female friends and maybe family members. I think it’s also a British thing.” He shrugged. 

It was only the partial truth. 

“Hmm. I see,” she nodded, her eyes still glued to the phone. As she moved her hand to get a sip of the water, her finger accidentally swiped to the home screen of his phone, and she couldn't figure out where to go back to the notes app. The little mishap allowed her to take notice of his phone background, which was a closeup photo of a German Shepherd looking directly at the camera with its large, inquisitive eyes. She gave him his phone back, asking him to help her get back to the notes app. 

“I just happened to see your home screen. Is that dog yours?” she asked as he gave the phone back to her, now displaying the notes app. 

“My uncle's.”

“He's beautiful. What's his name?” she questioned, now getting back to typing out the book list. 

“It's a female. Her name’s Riley.”

“Riley! Like your surname?” 

“Yeah. I found her starved and thrown in a dumpster as a puppy, and I called my uncle to help me get her out. He adopted her and named her after me,” he said with a chuckle. 

She smiled as she finished typing out the list and handed the phone back to him. “That's really nice, and really strange too, because my ex has a female German Shepherd named Riley too.”

Simon raised a brow as he took the phone and glanced at the list before keeping the device aside. “Chalk that off as a coincidence. I guess many people have German Shepherds named Riley. The name is quite common… I think,” he said. But the mention of the ex intrigued him. “You mentioned your ex. So, you've dated before, then?” he asked directly but casually, hoping he wasn't being too nosy. 

She shrugged. “Yeah, one guy.” 

“What happened with your ex, if you don't mind me asking?”

He saw that she stiffened slightly and looked away for a moment, clearly looking uncomfortable. He was so close to backing off when she answered him, “Well…” she paused to suck in a sharp breath through her teeth, “He was an older guy, and I happened to keep bumping into him at my local grocery store.”

He raised a brow, first of all at the fact that she dated someone older, and second of all, she met him at the grocery store, the least romantic place to find a boyfriend. But he didn't say anything and listened anyway. 

“The first time we met, he mistook me for an employee and asked me where he could find the dog food,” she chuckled, “He was new to the area and didn't know where to find it in the grocery store, and I was also wearing something similar to the uniform of the store employees.”

“So you two hit it off then?” 

“Yeah, after that, we'd have small talk, and he was actually quite charming. He asked me out on a date, we liked each other, and then we dated for two months.”

“Hm, that's not very long, innit?” he murmured, “How old were both of you?” 

“I was nineteen and he was thirty-five.” 

“Holy fuck,” his eyes widened slightly, “Nineteen? That's really young.” He then paused to count, “And you guys had a sixteen year age gap.”

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Yeah, I know, it's crazy.” 

“You prefer older blokes then?” asked Simon, fiddling with his fingers as he leaned forward on the table, hoping she would refute it. 

“Well no, but I was…” she sighed, “I was trying to figure out what sort of man I liked.” 

“And your first choice was an older man,” he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud. “Wasn't that potentially dangerous though? Sure, you weren't a minor, but you were still young.” 

She sighed again, but heavier this time. “Yeah, it kind of messed me up a little.” 

“It did? How?” 

She told him about how he could get a little demanding when it came to spending time with him, as she was a budding author at the time, and was busy with writing a good piece that was worth publishing. 

“Of course, even though I was busy, I tried my best to spend time with him. But he just wasn't satisfied. And since I lived at the dorm in uni, I had a curfew, but he would disregard it completely and beg me to stay and spend the night with him, when I wasn't comfortable with it yet. Thanks to that, just being around him ramped up my anxiety, and our relationship that was once enjoyable wasn't anymore.”

Simon felt tempted to ask if she had done anything intimate with her ex, but bit back, not wanting to come off as rude and intrusive. He listened with narrowed eyes and keen earnestness. “And so you broke up then?” he asked. 

“Yeah, and it surprisingly went well. Both of us mutually agreed that the relationship wouldn't work out, and we parted ways.” She paused for a long time and Simon didn't break her spell of silence, sensing a struggle in her to say the next words. She finally continued, “I thought that that was the end of it, but lately he's been calling me again, asking me if we could get back together.” 

Simon raised a brow again. “What? How daft is he? He has no shame groveling back to you.”

“Yeah… I spoke to him once to clearly tell him I wasn't interested anymore, but I don't think he understands.” 

As if on cue, her phone started ringing. When she checked who was calling, she recognized the unsaved number immediately, having seen it several times. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, feeling the same old anxious feeling rise from her chest to constrict her throat. “It's him,” she said, her voice quivering. 

Simon held out his hand. “I'll speak to him.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked frantically. 

“I'm sure. Give it here before he cuts it,” he urged. 

She hastily placed the ringing phone in his hand and he immediately picked it up. 

“Hello, mate. ____’s boyfriend here. What do you want with my missus?” he asked calmly. 

There was a brief silence. 

“Simon?” asked the deep, rumbling, yet gentle voice on the other side. 

The colour drained from Simon's face as he recognized the voice he knew and loved. 

“Uncle John?” 

Plot twist?

End of Part 5.

Part 6

-

I'm making a taglist btw. Leave a comment if you want to be included!

#aoioozora writes #call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #Simon series

[aoioozora]

Flight to Dreamland.

Character: Johnny Cage

Content: fluff, sleep deprived fem!reader, cuddling, banter, slight sexual suggestion, sleeptalking.

Photo credit: CVclaire

Note: I'm new to the MK fandom and this is my first MK fanfic! I hope you enjoy <3

“What do you do when you can't fall asleep?”

Johnny blinked his sleepy eyes at you as he leaned against his open door. He let out a yawn and then a low grumble escaped his lips as he hung his head down lazily to process and ponder your question.

“Can't sleep?” he asked in a raspy voice, now forcing his eyes open to look at you.

You looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“Come in,” he opened the door further and moved out of the way as he violently yawned again.

You walked in, dragging your long blanket behind you and pulling it against yourself, almost feeling like a princess wearing a heavy cape. Johnny closed the door and immediately fell stomach down on his bed. You sat down on the edge and saw that his arm was stretched out parallel to your thigh, with his hand hanging limp over the edge. Even in the dark, you could see his muscles and you had to fight the urge to touch them.

“How to fall asleep… How to fall asleep…” he murmured, as if chanting. In the dim moonlight, you could vaguely see that his brows were furrowed.

“They say…” he started, “You gotta sit in another room and do stuff until you're tired.”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Well, for starters, I am in another room.”

“Since you're in my room, I deduce you want to do something with me,” he, now clearly wide awake, said in a teasing, suggestive tone.

You blushed at the suggestion. You felt movement on the bed, and heard the sheets rustle. Glancing behind you at his shadow, you saw that he was laying on his side, supporting his head up with his hand and arm.

“Not what you're thinking,” you said through grit teeth, trying to make yourself sound like you weren't affected by that suggestion.

You heard a scoff. The bed dipped slightly behind you and you heard him ask, his voice now slightly louder, coming from behind you, right next to your ear,

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden proximity. His breath tickled your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice, low, quiet, and intentionally seductive did not fail to send your heart on overdrive.

It came to your realization that you were alone in a room with a man- not just any man, no, no, but one who was charismatic and oozing with pure testosterone, no less, in the middle of the night.

You cursed yourself for choosing such a time to be so vulnerable around him.

There was a pause. While the quiet whisper of his words lingered in the cool night air, he waited for an answer, and you could almost hear him smirking. You sucked in a deep, sharp, annoyed breath.

Taking that for an answer, he said with a guffaw, “You have one hell of a dirty mind, sugar,” and made no conscious effort to move away from your ear.

“I do not!” You protested, unable to hear yourself over how loudly your blood was throbbing in your ears.

He laughed again, clearly amused by your annoyance. His laughter normally was loud and obnoxious (some haters would even go as far as to say that it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, which was not true), but was still oddly endearing. With you, all the time, it was just a quiet chuckle, sonorous and sweet. Every time he laughed in your presence, you felt like he became a little boy, which perfectly encapsulated his occasional childlikeness and childishness.

“Hey, are you mad at me?” he asked, trying poorly to stifle his laughter.

When he got a huff for a response, he put his arms around your waist and nuzzled his cheek against your neck. Although you were mildly upset by his teasing, you didn't oppose this action. The proximity now decided that making you tingly seemed fit.

“Come, lay down with me,” he invited, sounding apologetic, “With my superior singing skills, I'll have you packed and ready for dreamland in no time!”

This earned a giggle from you, and Johnny was relieved to hear it. He may have been an actor, but he could never act contrary to his own feelings. Besides that, he casually dabbled in singing, and you knew he sang extremely well.

As he pulled his arm away slightly to allow you to move, his fingers traced lightly against your shirt over your stomach, over your waist. This sent a strong flurry of butterflies and sparks flying and flitting all over the place in your body. You felt the air hitch in your throat, but you tried to play it cool.

You soon lay next to him on his bed which was meant to hold only one person. The space constraint had to push you closer to him, and he was more than happy to accommodate you by wrapping you in his large, muscular arms, closing further the already measly gap between you and him.

Your blanket was forlorn on the floor, but you completely forgot about it. With one of his arms still around your shoulders, Johnny kicked up his own blanket with his legs and brought it over both of your bodies.

The warmth of his body, and of the lingering warmth on his bed and on his blanket, made you feel like you were a lightly toasted marshmallow on an open fire. It was mighty cold outside, and the chilling breeze that blew in through the netted open windows seemed to go unnoticed.

After he had adjusted the blanket, he turned to look at you. “How do you feel, princess?” he asked with a little smile.

“Warm.” You shyly sunk your face under the blanket.

“Hey, I'm not going to send you to dreamland unless I see your face,” he said in a tone of mock sternness, “For security reasons, I need to know it's you, the real deal.”

You giggled. “What are you? Airport security?”

“Of course! I even had a small acting gig as a flight attendant once in my early days so I know what I'm doing.” he exclaimed softly, “I won't send you unless I see your lovely face.” His voice turned softer and he tugged the blanket down a little, simultaneously brushing the tips of his fingers against your cheek.

You looked at him, shy as can be and mustered a smile. Johnny let out a chuckle of approval and put his arm around you again, allowing his hand to make its way to your hair, tangling his fingers in them. You felt his hand gently pushing your head towards his chest, and you welcomed it. The tip of your nose touched his chest, right above his heart, and you could feel it faintly beating. You could smell the flowery lavender, possibly of detergent emanating from his night clothes, mixed with the earthy pine.

The smell, the warmth, and the man cuddling you, had lulled you to half-sleep already.

Noticing this, he whispered, “We shall now begin takeoff. Fasten your seat belts.”

In your half-sleep, you moved closer to him, obeying the instruction. Johnny would have combusted at your cuteness, but he held himself back. He was on an important mission.

He was glad that it was dark, because his own cheeks were starting to turn pink. Taking in a deep breath to compose himself, he started rubbing you back and singing softly,

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you.”

There was no denying he felt exactly what the song said.

“It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage,”

To your half-conscious self, though his voice sounded slightly muddled, it was melodious as the voice of a nightingale; gentle and soothing like a loving touch, like gentle rain pattering against glass windows.

“But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.”

The short chorus of this ancient song was enough to lull you into complete sleep, and he soon found you softly snoring, your breath fanning against his chest. He sang the chorus a second time and gradually quieted as he reached the end, but continued rubbing your back.

He felt your body twitch slightly, and thought you were still awake, but upon closer inspection, you were indeed fast asleep.

“I must've put her on a rocket to dreamland. She reached there so fast.” he thought to himself with a smile.

“Johnny… Johnny…” he heard you murmur.

“Sleep talking?” he wondered.

“Yes papa?” he answered, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

You mumbled something under your breath. Not being able to hear you, he leaned closer, asking you to speak up.

You were quiet for a long time, but Johnny wasn't the one to give up. Hoping that you would repeat yourself, he stared at you, waiting.

“I love you…” came your faint whisper.

The womanizing Johnny was used to such words, be it from past lovers or from adoring fans, but the quiet voice, the quiet confession of the lady in his arms was enough to make a man of his caliber melt helplessly.

He wondered if you were dreaming about him, and was flattered to know that you liked- no, loved him enough to show up in your dreams.

“I love you too,” he answered, pressing his lips gently on your forehead.

He saw a faint smile on your face, and wondered if Dream Johnny did the same thing. If her interpretation of him was right, he could expect it.

“Sweet dreams, princess.” he finally said, now closing his own eyes.

End.

Read Part 2 here.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #johnny cage #mk johnny cage #mortal kombat johnny cage #Fluff #fanfic #Fanfiction #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage x you #aoioozora writes

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9

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

Note: Reader and Alejandro interactions that make Simon jealous and a wee bit insecure. Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

____ pulled into the underground parking lot of the apartment complex, sighing. She had just come back from an underwhelming meeting with her editor. 

She had proudly submitted the first few chapters of her manuscript, hoping they would be a hit, but was instead bombarded with the many suggestions of changes that should be made; while the plot itself was alright, the main complaint had to do with the male lead. 

“Frederick is not captivating or interesting enough. He needs more depth and personality… Definitely something different from Elystran,” the voice of the editor echoed in her thoughts as she killed the engine of her car and stepped out of the car. The thought of it once again made her shoulders slump with disappointment. 

Just as she did, out of the elevator across her parking spot came Alejandro. He spotted her and smiled. “Hey,” he greeted, twirling his car keys around his finger. 

“Hey, where you off to? I thought you were at work already.” 

He shrugged, “Took a day off for a doctor's appointment.”

“What happened?” 

“Nasty back pain,” he sighed. Then noticing her dull spirits, he asked if she was okay. 

“Yeah, I just came back from a meeting with the editor and apparently, I have a lot of stuff to change in my manuscript.” 

“Ah,” he nodded solemnly, “I'm sorry to hear that.” 

She shrugged. “It is what it is.” 

Alejandro was silent for a moment, unsure whether to ask whatever he had on his mind. He decided to just go for it. “Do you mind if I read the manuscript? I'd like to see what it's all about. Maybe get a sneak peek into your next book too.” He winked at her. 

“I was actually thinking of asking you just that.” She beamed, happy that he asked. 

Alejandro raised his eyebrows. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Actually, most of the problems in my manuscript are with the male lead, so I think your valuable input as a man would really help me out. And your general opinion as a reader too.” 

The man couldn't help but feel flattered. “Is that so? Then I'd be happy to help you out. Just send me the manuscript and I'll read it soon.” He threw his car keys in the air and caught it in his rugged, tan hand and smiled. 

“Perfect.” Just as she was about to say something else, she got a notification on her phone, which she immediately took out, hoping it was a message from the editor changing his mind about the manuscript. 

But it was Simon. Though a little disappointed, she still smiled, and he noticed.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, raising his eyebrows teasingly at her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, grinning. She kept the phone back in her pocket, deciding to answer him later. 

Alejandro found it a little odd that she wouldn’t reply to Simon immediately, but he figured, “Maybe it’s just me,” and decided to let it be. 

“I’m offended you didn’t tell me you started dating,” he smirked, playfully putting on a tone of feigned offense as he put his hand on his chest. “How’d you two meet?”

She laughed at his dramatics and then briefly related the incident to him. 

“So you two started dating only a month and a half after meeting each other? That's… quick.” Alejandro remarked, raising his eyebrow. He knew people could fall in love at first sight, but that wasn’t the case with everyone. 

“Yeah,” her voice squeaked and her gaze faltered; she cursed herself for it. “We found a lot in common and… hit it off.” 

“Hm…” he exhaled, noticing the vagueness and lack of conviction in her voice and body language, but decided not to comment on it, not wanting to jump into conclusions too soon. “Well, good for you. I’m glad you found someone,” he said with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He then looked at his watch. “I should get going. Don’t wanna be late for the appointment.” 

“Alright, see you later!” she said with some eagerness, wanting to end the conversation, for she didn't know how else she could cover up. 

“See ya, muñequita.” 

Simon had recently followed ____’s spam/personal account, and saw that the skeleton plushie made a very frequent appearance. It showed up even on her main account to her tons of followers. 

The story on her personal account posted late in the morning showed the skeleton perched against her laptop screen along with the caption, “Serious writer’s block rn. He’s cheering me on!”

The next image, posted three hours later was of Alejandro in front of a laptop that looked like hers, captioned, “@-alevargas is giving me some pointers. He's ruthless 💀”

Simon grunted, feeling a spurt of jealousy. He rolled over on his side on Gaz's sofa, nearly kicking Johnny– who was seated on the floor– on the back of his head. 

He didn't hear his friend's yelp as he was too busy feeling bummed that she didn't ask him, especially after the two shared meaningful conversations over her novel before. 

“It's not like I can control who she chooses to share her work with,” he told himself resignedly, “Besides, we're just friends. I'm not supposed to be feeling jealous like this.” 

Yet he couldn't help it. 

Simon decided to scope out his competition by paying a visit to Alejandro's Instagram page. Upon reaching there, he found that the man was an up-and-coming part time model with a fair amount of followers. Even though Simon saw him in real life and found him to be a handsome man, his modeling photographs rendered him dangerously handsome; he had perfectly tanned skin, thick glossy black waves styled gorgeously to suit his masculine features, straight pearly whites for teeth, a near perfect five o'clock shadow, an athletic and muscular body, and a dazzling smile characteristic of motivational speakers. He was Mexican, to top it off, which meant that he most definitely was an outgoing and energetic guy. 

Simon felt his confidence fade into insignificance. Here was a man perfect in every respect like an expertly cut diamond, and compared to him, Simon felt like an ugly, misshapen rock. His own features contrasted with Alejandro's in his brooding, glaring eyes, his pale skin, thin lips, crooked teeth, his somber and quiet outward personality, and most of all, his marred face and body. 

He immediately exited Instagram and dropped the phone on his chest, sighing. “Yeah, with a bloke like him as competition, there's no way I'm winning,” he thought to himself, now resting his arm over his forehead. 

“Oi, Ghosty,” Johnny nudged Simon's leg with his elbow. 

The familiar nickname irked him all of a sudden, as it felt like a reminder of his flaws. “What?” he asked, trying not to sound snappy. 

“Did ye ask ____ if she wants tae come for our one night camp?”

Simon grunted. “I'll ask later.” 

“No. Yer gonna forget. Also, tell her that Lindsey is coming too.” 

Lindsey. Simon remembered Johnny telling him about her soon after he confessed their stalking. A short, freckled, ginger girl; Johnny spoke about her a lot and with excitement too, even calling her ‘Jolene’ in reference to the Dolly Parton song. Simon wasn't particularly surprised that Johnny was gallivanting with yet another lady; that's what he had always been doing since high school. His wit, charm, smiles, energy, and particularly his Scottish accent recommended him greatly to the opposite sex. He only hoped that Lindsey wouldn't take him too seriously. 

Simon picked his phone back up and sent a quick text to ____  about the camping trip and its general details. No sooner was he about to throw his device aside on the coffee table to pay more attention to Gaz who was playing his electric guitar nearby, her reply came. 

Author Girl: of course I'd love to come!  Simon Riley: great. I'll let you in on more details later Simon Riley: Johnny has invited your friend too apparently Author Girl: Really? She didn't even tell me. Simon Riley: u better ask her about it then. 

There appeared to be a slight delay in her reply even though she was online, and he wondered what she was up to. Finally, a reply came after two minutes. 

Author Girl: I'll do that :)  Simon Riley: Are you busy?  Author Girl: yeah kind of. Alejandro is giving me some suggestions for my story

He felt a twinge of jealousy again. “He's still there? At this point, maybe they make a better pair than she and I,” he thought despairingly. 

Simon Riley: yeah, I saw ur Instagram story. How's it coming along?  Author Girl: it's coming along great. We're almost done here Simon Riley: he's at your place?  Author Girl: yeah, he came over to give me some enchiladas he made and I invited him to come in. 

Another twinge of jealousy, and another skill to add to Alejandro's repertoire. 

Simon was so close to typing, “I wish you invited me instead,” but immediately deleted it. 

Simon Riley: cool.  Simon Riley: I'll leave you two then, I got other things to do Author Girl: sure. I'll text u back soon :)  Simon Riley: alright. Cheers

She noticed how he went offline so quickly and stared at her phone for a moment. “Is it just me or did he seem a little off?” she wondered to herself, hoping she wasn't reading too much into it. She shrugged it off, thinking it had to do with whatever he was busy with. 

“Muñequita?” Alejandro's voice interrupted her reverie.

Her eyes snapped back to the man sitting across her. “Yes?” she smiled, not realising she had been engrossed with Simon. 

He looked at the clock on her wall. “I should get going now. It's gotten late,” he said, now placing her laptop on the coffee table and rising. 

“Oh right, I've kept you here long enough,” she chuckled as she rose too. “Wait here for a moment.” 

Alejandro, confused and curious, stood by the coffee table as he watched her disappear behind her kitchen door. She soon appeared with a can of soda, which she put in his hand. 

“That's for you, as thanks for the enchiladas and helping me out,” she said, grinning at him. 

He chuckled and playfully gave her forehead a gentle knock with the edge of the cold can. “Thanks, muñequita,” he smirked, opening the tab of the can with a single finger and taking a long sip of the soda. “Well,” he began as soon as the sip was drowned, “I'll be off now. Good night.” 

“Good night, Alejandro. Take care,” she said as she walked him to the door. 

“You too, nena,” he gave her a little smile. “Call me if you need any more help, alright? I'll be at your beck and call,” he said only half-jokingly, giving her a wink. 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “You don't need to do that, but I'll let you know.”

As soon as he left, she breathed a heavy sigh. The conversation with Alejandro was fruitful, but she was exhausted. She decided to decompress and wind down for the night by taking a nice, long shower and a soak in the bathtub. She then had a simple dinner and just before bedtime, she was found on her bed in her satin pajamas and her phone, cuddled with the cushions and plushies; Little Simon, the most preferred and well loved, was tucked under her arm and pressed against her breast. 

Her cute animal video marathon was interrupted by a message from (Bigger) Simon. 

Simon Riley: wyd? Are you busy?  Author Girl: watching videos. Hbu?  Simon Riley: [photo]  Simon Riley: watching a film with the lads. It's boring 

The photo showed a glowing television screen in a dark room, and a little cameo of Johnny's familiar mohawk at the bottom as he was seated on the floor in front of Simon. 

Simon Riley: I'd rather talk to you

She felt her heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: I hope I'm not disturbing you btw Author Girl: no no you're not Author Girl: tbh I'd rather be talking to you too 😂

It was now Simon's turn to feel his heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: good, because I'm in for a conversation  Author Girl: what do u wanna talk about?  Simon Riley: hmm Simon Riley: how did it go with Alejandro? 

Unbeknownst her, Simon had to revise that text several times so as to not make himself sound unnecessarily overprotective, prying, and smothering. He hoped that he sounded casual and carefree enough. 

Author Girl: went well. He gave me a lot of pointers for my male characters. My editor wasn't so happy with my male lead so I had to consult an actual guy to help me out Simon Riley: you could've asked me Author Girl: yeah well Alejandro was the first guy I came across so I thought I'd ask him. I was going to ask a bunch of different guys too so I'll be asking you next 😁 Simon Riley: good. I'll be glad to help.  Simon Riley: btw about the trip Simon Riley: I need to fill u in w the finer details. Can I call you rn?  Author Girl: sure

She sat up straight on the bed with bated breath. Though he had a few phone calls with him, she still felt a little bit nervous. She was about to get lost in her thoughts when the blaring of her ringtone made her jump with fright. She scrambled to pick up the call. 

“Hey!” she squeaked in a high pitch, and immediately cleared her throat. 

“Hi darling,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate; she could hear him smiling. “You alright? You seem a little… I don't know, surprised?”

“No,” she said breathlessly, “No, no, I'm fine.” She chuckled. When she heard the faint sound of traffic on his side, she asked, “Are you out already?” 

“Just the balcony,” he answered.” How could you tell?”

“I could hear some traffic.” 

“You're sharp,” he complimented. 

She smiled. “Thanks. Now, what did you want to discuss?” 

“Right, yes,” his voice immediately turned serious. He gave her all the finer details of the trip for a few minutes and at the end of it, he asked, “We're planning on using a car to get there since it's gonna be the five of us and it will save on petrol. Do you think we could use your car?” 

“Well if my car is in good enough condition for you, then I don't mind,” she said, a hint teasingly. 

He chuckled. “If I check it and find anything wrong, I'll give you a bollocking,” he teased back. 

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes, smiling, “You gave me enough of a bollocking the other day when my battery died. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

She heard him laugh, and like it always did, her heart melted. 

“You deserved it,” he scoffed. “But anyway, batteries and bollockings aside, you're okay with your car being used?”

“Absolutely.” 

“And you're comfortable driving long distances? Like I said, it will be a three hour drive, which is quite long by European standards.” 

“I'm okay with it. It's been a long time since I've driven that long though.” 

“Don't worry, if you're tired, I'll take your place.” 

“You? But didn't you say you were a bad driver?” she smirked. 

He could hear her smirking and thought he'd try to make her laugh. “If I try really hard, I can avoid hitting a tree.” 

She burst out laughing. “You're banned from the driver's seat!”

He smiled, gratified. “Whatever shall I do,” he said sarcastically, smiling and shaking his head. 

“If you can prove that you won't hit anything within the first five minutes of the drive, then maybe I'll consider letting you drive for longer,” she challenged, shifting in her seat on the bed and running her finger over the contours of Little Simon on her lap. 

“Challenge accepted,” he said with a self-assured snort. 

She smiled at his confidence and willingness. “So where are we all meeting again?” she asked. 

“At my place. I'll send you directions for it after this.”

“Okay,” she exhaled, now thinking of what his place looked like. What sort of decor and aesthetic he preferred, what sort of colors he liked, and if he kept house plants. 

The two continued to converse a little more until their eyes felt heavy and they started yawning. 

“Are your friends still watching the movie?” she asked, by this time half sitting up and half laying down on her bed. 

“I think it's almost over,” Simon, who was still seated in the balcony, looked over his shoulder at Gaz and Johnny who had their eyes still glued to the television set, despite them having melted into the sofa. “You sound sleepy, darling. You should go.” 

“Hmm…” she sighed. “But I don't want to go,” she whined in a soft, sleepy mumble. 

“Why not?” he questioned smilingly, not wanting her to hear how her sleepy whine was making him melt. 

“I like talking to you,” she replied in a tone that was trying to convince him to stay. She rolled over on her side, holding Little Simon close to her chest. 

The man's distant eyes softened as he heard this and he felt a little tickle in his stomach. His voice deepened, quietened, and mellowed as he replied, “Same here, my darling, but we'll talk again soon, alright? You sound like you're gonna fall asleep right now.” 

He heard another little whine, and he chuckled, unable to stop finding her cuteness so endearing and sweet. “Go on now,” he encouraged gently. 

She finally relented. “Good night, Simon,” she said in a half-whisper. 

“Good night, my love.” 

There ended the call, and Simon kept his phone on his thigh, feeling his face turn warm against the cool, damp air of the outdoors. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. 

“Fuck me…” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. 

This phone call was a huge boost to his earlier insecurity. Their banter, her acting cute, her not wanting to stop talking to him was evidence enough that she preferred him over Alejandro. He could only hope that his hunch was right and that she wasn't doing the same thing with the other man. 

When the sound of her puppy-like whine echoed in his mind again, he groaned, wishing he could punch a wall so he could feel manly again. 

Any more, and she was going to be the death of him. 

The same woman, blissfully unaware of how her unintentional cuteness affected Simon, was now half-asleep on her bed, fingers curled loosely around her phone, and Little Simon nestled under her arm. 

“Elystran, from your first book, was bubbly and energetic. So I think that it would make sense for Frederick to be a little more reserved and aloof, but someone with power and authority, unyielding, and kind to nobody but Adelheid. Maybe if you knew someone with similar traits like these, you could use them as a model.” Alejandro's words from their earlier discussion echoed in her thoughts. 

Like lazily floating clouds on a clear summer's day, her thoughts drifted, trying to think of who would make the perfect model. 

Her thoughts settled on one man: 

“Simon.”

End of Part 7.

Part 8

Thank you all for your love on this series! I enjoy writing this and all your wonderful likes, comments, and reblogs fuel my passion some more. It's sm fun to write fluff; too bad I don't see a lot of it on tumblr lol. But anyway, thank you all once again. Remember, if you enjoyed this and want to be notified for updates, leave a comment so that I can add you to my tag list. x

#call of duty #aoioozora writes #Simon series #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

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

Note: I still can't believe that I've written 8 whole chapters for a oneshot that I never planned on making into a series! But I'm glad it's coming along well and that you're enjoying it :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @iimichie

@mxtokko

“Morning, Simon!” 

____ and Lindsey arrived at Simon's door at seven in the morning as planned. His crush was the one who excitedly greeted him, while her friend looked disgruntled and ticked at having to be up so early. 

“Morning,” he greeted them civilly as his hand instinctively ran through his hair, trying not to appear even the slightest disheveled or flustered at the sight of ____’s smiles, and moved away from the door to let the two in. 

“Have a seat. I'll bring you some tea,” he said, promptly moving towards the kitchen. 

The ladies, particularly the author, took in the surroundings of his little flat as they entered and sat down. The entire place as a whole was simple. The walls of the living room were empty and unpainted except for a singular, ancient grandfather clock that hung alone near his curtained balcony, filling the quiet room with its rhythmic ticking. She saw that he was concerned more with pragmatics than aesthetics; if it didn't serve a purpose, then it wasn't needed. 

She saw that he favored dark colors of blue and black, and neutrals, but found that bright colors were speckled throughout the room in his red floor lamp, the gold painted knobs of his brown television stand, and the red and white chevron patterned cushions on his grey couch. The simple state of his room made her wonder if his bedroom was more personalised. 

A hint of green caught her attention and she turned to the balcony. A few potted plants of mint, tomatoes, and coriander, all of which were healthy and green, swayed gently in the morning breeze. She smiled at this. “He’s a gardener,” she thought to herself, not quite expecting it.

The smell of lemon and mint wafted through the air, bringing her thoughts back. Simon brought out a tray of three mismatched teacups and a glass teapot filled with what smelled and looked like lemon tea. 

“Have some tea,” he set down the tray on the coffee table and poured out the tea for them. 

She, wanting to use Simon as a model for her character, Frederick, watched keenly as he poured with a thoughtful, concentrated look on his face. She wondered why he used a glass teapot over porcelain or any other material, but that was probably not important. However, she was not going to let even the smallest things about him and his choices escape her scrutiny. 

“When will Johnny come?” asked Lindsey as soon as she had her sip of tea. 

Simon glanced at the grandfather clock. “At six forty-five, he said he'd be here in ten minutes. He's picking up our other friend, Kyle too. Maybe there's some hold-up,” he answered. He felt a little strange; it was his first time properly speaking to Lindsey, and she seemed to look judgingly at him, as if to find a fault. 

____ was silent, as she was more concentrated on the taste and temperature of her tea. It was lightly sweetened and refreshing thanks to the lemon and mint. A mental note was already taken that Frederick too would be good at brewing tea. 

Simon's ringtone tore the silence and he immediately slid the phone out of his jeans. Thinking it was Johnny, he looked expectantly, but it was his mum. Looking back at the ladies, he excused himself and went out to the balcony to talk. 

“What do you think of him?” ____ asked Lindsey, who took slow sips of her tea as the two watched the man pace around the balcony through the partially drawn translucent curtains. 

“He makes good tea,” she answered, “I think I'll approve of him a bit.” To Lindsey, a man who could brew a good tea was worth marrying, because, according to her, it meant that he cared about the little things, like making tea taste good. As ____ smiled, she paused for a moment before quipping, “He seems nice so far, but I don't trust him just yet.”

____ shook her head, chuckling. Lindsey was always so skeptical of everyone and everything, both a vice and a virtue. 

Simon soon emerged from the balcony into the living room, brows furrowed with concern. He looked straight at ____ and said, “I need to have a word with you, darling,” and then promptly stepped into the kitchen without waiting for an answer, expecting her to follow. 

She instantly set down her teacup and followed Simon into the kitchen. “What's the matter?” she asked as soon as she entered, finding him leaning his back on the kitchen counter, arms crossed. 

He turned to her, almost opening his mouth to speak but cautiously glanced at the open door; he looked back at her, beckoning her to come closer. When she did, he said, “I don't know how you'll react to this but I need you to hear me out, alright, darling?” 

Her curiosity heightened and she nodded.

“Y'see, my mum just called and they're going to have a family reunion soon since my old man's come back home for a holiday from his military service,” he paused, sucking in a sharp breath, unsure about how she would take his next words, but continued anyway, “And my mum asked me if I found a girlfriend yet because she's worried I'm going to die single…” he paused again, “and I may have accidentally told her that you're my girlfriend.” 

“You what?” she stared incredulously at Simon, although she wasn't quite opposed to what he did. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head, embarrassed with himself, “I'm really sorry.” 

“Wait, does your mum know about me?” 

“Yeah, I told her a few weeks ago that I recently made friends with this lass,” he paused to sigh again, “And when she asked if I finally found a girlfriend, I accidentally said yes, and when she asked if it was you…” he paused again and shrugged. 

The lady paused. Now that he said it, it couldn't be helped and she had to play along. Not that it bothered her. She chuckled. “Well, it's alright. You take the trouble of pretending to be my boyfriend, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be your girlfriend for a bit.” 

Simon looked back at her, visibly relieved. 

“Now, what do you need me to do?” she asked. 

“That's the hard part. We'll have to make up a story of how we met and how we hit it off. And I'll have to bring you home and introduce you to my family. And not just that, you know who else will be there.” He pursed his lips tight. 

She immediately knew. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and nodded. “Right, yes.”

He could see the apprehension on her face and in her body as she crossed her arms. Feeling terrible that he dragged her into this, he said, “Darling, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. If going there and meeting him again will make you uncomfortable, then I'm not forcing you to come with me.” 

She drew in a shaky breath and pondered for a moment. Simon watched her, gulping harshly. 

“No,” she finally said, resolute, “I shouldn't be so scared all the time. If I'm going to be there as your girlfriend, I shouldn't be afraid of some ex of mine.”

Simon blinked in surprise at this response. He appreciated her bravery, and felt his admiration for her increase. However, he didn't show it, and kept his facial expressions neutral with a little smile. “I guess, yeah,” he nodded. He paused for a moment, wanting to say something else, but she beat him to it.

“If anything happens, you’ll stick up for me, won’t you?” she asked smilingly, “Since you’re my “boyfriend”.”

He felt his heart leap. That was the exact thing he wanted to assure her of, and it flattered him greatly to know that they had been thinking of the same thing. Even though he knew this was going to be a pretense, it rubbed his male instincts and ego right to be depended on for protection. 

He answered with a wide smile, “Of course, my love.”

“Why d’ye drive a manual?” asked Johnny as soon as he took the shotgun seat, watching ____ take her place in the driver's seat. 

“Tut tut,” she shook her head, bringing out a mini sombrero from her pocket which she placed on the gear stick, “It's Emmanuel.”

The three passengers in the back, from left to right– Simon, Lindsey, and Gaz, watched as Johnny burst out laughing, also making ____ laugh as she got the car started. 

“Ghosty, she's a woman of culture!” Johnny exclaimed, looking back at his best friend. 

Simon made no answer as he was upset that he couldn't sit next to ____. Lindsey felt similarly, but for Johnny. Regardless of that, the drive began with gusto, with Johnny and Gaz filling the time with their singing and jokes, while the other three listened. 

____ drove for the first hour, and Johnny took over for the second and the two switched seats, exchanging jokes and quips with ease, making both Simon and Lindsey at the back miserable and jealous. Simon drove for fifteen minutes in the third hour until he nearly hit a tree, but swerved back to the road right on time to avoid damaging both the car and his crush's esteem. Gaz took over for the remaining forty-five minutes, and Simon was banished to the back seat. 

Thankfully for him, ____ sat next to him to console him, “Don't worry. After all, you did say that if you tried really hard, you wouldn't hit a tree. You did great for fifteen minutes at least!”

Simon chuckled out of embarrassment. It didn't make him feel any better, but he appreciated her effort. 

The camping spot was soon in sight. It was around ten in the morning when Gaz parked the car in the shed of a little cabin. The ladies learnt that the spot belonged to one of Gaz's relatives, who was happy to lend it out to anyone who needed it. And from how the three men scampered around the place relaxedly, it was evident that they were regular visitors. 

The fenced piece of land was right next to a little lake which afforded a view of the distant green hills speckled with heathers and daisies. A lonely little dock hung over the surface of the water, which, as Simon informed the ladies, “made a nice fishing spot”.

The group first decided to begin their hike as planned before unloading the car. England's weather was notorious for being fickle and since the skies were currently clear of all rain clouds, the hike was chosen as the first activity. 

The trail was an easy one, chosen for the benefit of the ladies who were partially accustomed to walking on rocky, uneven terrain. The end of it promised a little waterfall, which Johnny was excited about showing them, as was evident in his constant singing of sea shanties while they hiked. Gaz happily joined him, while the ladies and Simon chose to be their audience like earlier. 

“Johnny sure loves to sing,” observed ____, who trudged between Lindsey and Simon. 

“He's a born singer,” replied Simon with a sigh, sounding both proud of and annoyed with his friend, “And he was a theater kid too. Acted in tons of musicals and plays, mostly musicals. Put him together with Gaz and they'll be singing and dancing all day.”

She chuckled. “How long have you guys known each other?” 

“Johnny's my childhood friend. We've known each other since we were ten years old. As for Gaz, both of us met him in university and we quickly became friends,” he explained, kicking a rock out of the way. 

The two ladies looked at each other. “That's a long time,” remarked Lindsey, “You all must be really close then.” 

“Too close,” Simon said dryly, but there was a hint of affection in his voice. He then turned to the ladies to ask, “And what about you two? How long have you been friends?” 

“Since high school,” ____ answered, smilingly linking her arm with Lindsey's, “She's basically my sister now.” 

Simon smiled. He could tell, for the moment he saw them together, they stuck to each other like glue and didn't leave each other's side for more than a few moments. 

Johnny looked back at the calm trio behind him and Gaz. “Jolene!” He called Lindsey by her nickname. When he had her attention, he beckoned her to join him in singing. 

“I don't know any of the songs you're singing!” she protested. 

“Dinnae ye worry, wee lassie!” he retraced his steps, put an arm around her shoulders, and dragged her ahead with him, making her squeal and stumble. “Gaz and I will teach you!” he promised, and kept his arm around her as they hiked up the hillock. 

While the two men busied themselves in teaching Lindsey to sing ‘Bully in the Alley’, ____ and Simon were left to themselves. The lady smiled at Lindsey's attempts to sing, though she was no singer. 

“Lindsey hates singing,” she whispered to Simon, “It's crazy how she's doing it for Johnny.” A girlish giggle escaped her lips at the thought of a romance blooming between the two. Her authorly brain couldn't help but conjecture all the sweet moments they would have, worthy of a novel of its own. 

“And I'll tell you what, Johnny's never been this fixated on one woman for this long either. He's normally a huge flirt, a ladies’ man, if you will. I'm just as surprised as you are,” answered Simon. 

The mention of Johnny being a flirt worried her. She knew Lindsey to almost easily give her affections to anyone who would look her way, starved for love as she was. But she decided to stay out of the way and watch the two for now. If Johnny ever did anything that would hurt Lindsey, she would not hesitate to confront him. 

The hike was now proving to get a little tiring, and ____ let out a sigh as she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. Simon stopped too, looking down at her from the slightly steep ascent. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” 

He bent his knee and lowered himself slightly, holding out his hand. “Come on,” he encouraged, “Just a little more and we'll be at the waterfall.” 

She took his outstretched hand, and no sooner they made contact, a jolt of electricity ran down both their spines. Simon gulped harshly at this reaction, and she felt an additional tingle in her stomach. His larger, more rugged hand held her softer and smaller hand in his, and he pulled her up the ascent with ease. She thanked him as soon as they were next to each other, Simon, eager to be of further assistance, held out his arm to her. 

“You can hold my arm if you want to,” he offered, trying to sound as casual as he could, though his thoughts begged her to give him the honour of accepting him. 

Her hand practically flew to his arm in an instant, wrapping just below his bicep. Simon never felt more depended upon than now as the two began walking together. And she was completely flattered by his kind offer, trying to suppress her smiles and blushes. The two were, without doubt, over the moon. 

The lady was sure to make mental notes about everything Simon did. Frederick would be tall and brooding, but a kind-hearted and observant gentleman with a soft spot for Adelheid.

“This reminds me of the Jane Austen novels where the men would offer their arms to the ladies when they got tired as they walked,” she commented with a bright smile and a certain twinkle in her eye as she moved closer to him, allowing her hand to curl tighter against his arm. 

He noted the expression on her face and the movement and instinctively flexed his bicep so that she could feel it. He smiled in response to her comment and said with a chuckle, his cheeks overspread with a light pink, “So it was a custom back then? Interesting.” He hadn't read a lot of Regency era novels to know of past English social customs, but he seemed intrigued by this one aspect that she mentioned. Wanting to know if she really approved of it, asked, “Do you like it?” 

She loved it, but for the sake of being mild, said, “I think it's nice, especially now when I don't see men doing this sort of thing.”

“So you like gentlemen then?” 

She giggled. “A lot.” 

Simon took note of this immediately. If she liked a gentleman, a gentleman he would be. If men of his day didn't do the things he did, like offering their arm, or pulling out the chair for her at a table, he most certainly would do it, for he didn't want to be like other men. He wanted to be special and singled out by her. 

They began descending down a slightly slippery, gravelly path that led to the waterfall, and Simon took hold of her upper arm this time as he led her down so that she wouldn’t fall in case she slipped over the loose gravel. He was reminded yet again of how much smaller she was compared to him, and it only heightened his desire to keep her safe. 

The gurgle and rush of water from the distant waterfall was soon heard, and a few meters of walking on level ground finally brought them to the waterbody familiar to the men. Johnny cheered like he never saw a waterfall before, loud enough for his voice to echo in the wilderness, and for Lindsey to cover her ears and curse under her breath.

“We're here!”

End of Part 8.

Part 9

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[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 6

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

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

Note: Plot twist resolves, Reader and Simon enjoy the rest of their evening, more sneaky Johnny and Lindsey, Alejandro makes an appearance, and a doorframe lean 👀 enjoy!

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

“I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby, snap out of it. Snap out of it,” sang Johnny as soon as Lindsey had finished narrating the tale of her best friend's failed relationship. 

“Exactly, he needs to snap out of it and stop bothering her,” agreed Lindsey, by this time used to her new friend's random bouts of singing. 

They were sitting in the same restaurant as their friends, far enough to be undetected and near enough to spy. Lindsey's eyes moved from Johnny's face towards her friend's table and saw that she gave her phone to Simon. 

“I reckon he's playing the boyfriend again,” Johnny spoke, also following her line of vision, “Ain't that no’ nice of him?” 

Lindsey huffed; she didn't like being proved wrong, but she had to admit it, and nodded slowly. Her eyes still remained on the duo they spied. 

____’s face paled and her gut wrenched and writhed when Simon had uttered the name, 

“Uncle John?” 

Simon looked at her with wide eyes, his jaw clenched tight. While it wasn't a look of malice or disgust but of pure shock and horror, she still winced at it and looked away at her trembling hands resting on her lap.

If she had a shovel, she'd already be digging a hole to bury herself alive. 

He raised his hand up to her and stood, indicating that he would return in a few moments and asking for her to wait. Without waiting for her approval, he hastily stepped out of the restaurant to speak to his uncle further. The watching spies saw the agitation and anger on Simon's flushed face as he strode out. 

Johnny let out a low yet solemn whistle as he turned to Lindsey. “This is no’ gonna be pretty,” he said, taking a slow sip of his drink. 

This only worried Lindsey as she looked at her friend, who was now forlorn in her seat, looking embarrassed and helpless. Lindsey longed to run to her and comfort her, but she sat still, not wanting to blow her and Johnny's cover. She anxiously gnawed at her lip and fiddled with her fingers. 

“Hey, dinnae ye worry,” Johnny offered her a reassuring smile, “That might look like a complete disaster right now but it'll all work out.” 

She raised a brow. “You sure are confident.” 

Johnny smiled as he looked out the glass doors of the restaurant, watching Simon face the road with the phone held up to his ear. He remarked, “Simon's the typa guy who wouldn't let anything get in the way of what he wants tae enjoy. He'll deal with it and call it a day.” 

Simon, outdoors by this time, was slapped by the cold wind and the spray of rainwater that it brought along. He turned sideways so that her phone wouldn't get wet. 

“Uncle, you cannot be serious,” he began with some difficulty. 

“First of all, how do you even know her? I never even told you about her… or anyone,” said John, sounding bewildered by this turn of events. 

Simon told him about it in brief. 

“And she told you about our relationship then?” he asked at the end of the account. 

“Just now,” Simon answered, inhaling sharply to keep his composure, “I can't believe you'd date someone so young. You're lucky she wasn't a minor when you dated her.” 

“I know, I know,” John sighed, “Look, when you're thirty-five and still single, it's hard, alright? I'm forty-something now and I still haven't found someone. At this point, I'm desperate.” He was unusually honest, but only because it was his nephew he was speaking to. 

Simon understood the point his uncle was trying to make and did admit that it was a tragedy, but that didn't stop him from snapping. “Desperate to the point that you'd bother your ex who clearly told you she wants nothing to do with you? And even back then, she was young and you were the adult. You should've known better than to date her! The fact that you told no one about this relationship is enough proof that you knew this whole thing was wrong! And who gives a fuck if you're desperate?” Simon inhaled sharply, his voice now sounding both pained and disappointed, “Don't you have morals, uncle?” 

Simon paused, now breathing heavily from his fiery speech, feeling his face burn. John, stunned by his usually quiet nephew's outburst, was silent on the other side, not having anything to say in argument. 

The young man continued, saying with a tone of stern protectiveness, “And besides, she's off limits now.”  

He could hear his uncle's pause even in the silence. He asked after a moment, quietly, “She really is your girlfriend then?” 

Simon's jaw clenched again. It was a lie, but he had to protect her. “Yes,” he said in a quiet growl, his voice resolute and firm. 

“I see,” he sighed, but it came out as a weary groan. “But it's a bit odd that she made no mention of her having a boyfriend when she refused me.” 

Simon paused at that. “I don't know about that but I think she didn't want to use me to get you off her back.”

“Hmm. It didn't even occur to me to ask her if she was taken.” 

Simon had to fight the urge to let out a sigh of relief. John was normally sharp, but occasionally forgetful, and Simon could thank him for that, or else she could've unintentionally blown his cover. He said, “Well, now you know she's taken.” 

John let out another sigh, a defeated one. “Alright, I won't bother her anymore.” 

Simon's lip twitched at this. He asked, “So you'll back off only when her boyfriend tells you to, but not when she tells you to?” 

John sighed the third time; Simon could almost see his uncle pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was desperate or frustrated. “Simon, my boy, it's my mistake and I won't do it again. Look, you're my favourite nephew and I don't want to be on bad terms with you because of this, alright? I promise not to bother her anymore and we'll end it at that.”

Simon exhaled heavily, feeling his anger abate just slightly. “Fine,” he spat. 

“I hope it's not too much to ask but…” John began, but paused, unsure. 

“What?” 

“Since she doesn't want anything to do with me or talk to me, will you just pass one last message from me to her?”

Simon was about to refuse, but with how pathetic his uncle was sounding, he just couldn't. “What is it?” 

“Tell her that I wish her happiness in her relationship with you and that I'm sorry for troubling her so much.” He paused and then addressed him, “I know that you're more the man than I'll ever be, and you'll keep her happier than I have.”

Simon felt his heart melt at those words. “Right,” he said through his teeth. 

The call soon ended and Simon stood watching the rain for a moment, the phone clenched tightly in his hand. 

He felt a knot in his throat. Did his uncle ruin his chances with his crush? It was too much. He was tempted to blame his uncle, but it was partly unreasonable; how would either of them know about a future like this? And besides, if Simon really ended up dating her, how awkward would it be if he had to bring her to family gatherings and the exes met? 

He sighed heavily and ruffled his hair. “Thinking too far into the future,” he reminded himself. He stayed out a little longer to allow the cold weather to cool his warm face and then turned to enter the restaurant. 

He breathed in and out to compose himself, reminding himself to speak calmly, as he didn't want to worry her. When he finally neared the table she was sitting at, he saw the frown on her face and her furrowed brows as she stared at the pouring rain outside the windows. She immediately started when she noticed him approaching. 

“Simon, what happened?” she asked, her eyes eagerly following his every movement. 

“I spoke to him,” he said, sighing as he sat down, “He won't bother you anymore.” 

He might've sounded calm, but she could see the tenseness in his face. 

“He has a message for you. He's sorry for bothering you and he wishes you happiness in your new relationship.”

She nodded to acknowledge the message, and the two sat in brief silence. 

“This is the third time I had to pretend to be your boyfriend,” he began in a matter-of-fact tone, “My uncle had noticed that you didn't mention me when you refused him, but I managed to cover that up.” He paused, allowing her to let that sink in. “Tell you what, darling,” he shifted in his seat, “Let's make this consistent, alright? I'll pretend to be your boyfriend whenever you need me to. If anyone asks, you say my name. Do you understand?”

She nodded, pursing her lips. Simon had hoped that his logical suggestion would ease her worries somehow, but he saw that she still looked sullen with her downcast eyes and thoughtful look. “Are you very close to him?” she asked carefully, pulling Simon's jacket closer to herself. 

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. 

She felt her heart sink. Would her presence sour the good relationship the two had? His shock was enough for her to know that he was probably deeply pained by this. 

She was now also plagued by the same worry as Simon. Would he even consider a possible relationship with her given her past? She always believed that the past never mattered unless it had a lesson to teach, but in this case, it seemed like a vital decisive factor. 

The lady groaned and put her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.” The awkwardness of this whole situation cut so deep that she could feel tears threatening to spill. 

Simon truly felt sorry for her. He reached across the table and gently pried her hands off her face. One look at her glossy eyes gave his chest a painful twinge; he discovered that he hated to see this look on her face, and he'd do anything to wipe it off. 

“Yeah, it is, but try not to dwell on it, alright? If you think that I'm going to let your past relationship with my uncle ruin our friendship, then think again, because I won't,” he said firmly, gently holding her hands away from her face so she wouldn't hide again. 

Her interest in him made her hyper-aware of everything he did. The warmth and gentleness of his hands against hers. The intense, determined look in his eyes as he stared at her. Though her body internally reacted with excitement at this, she was also eased by his consolation. 

When he saw how his words had driven away the shadow of doubt from her face and allowed a gleam of hope to shine in her lovely eyes, he gave her a reassuring smile and let her hands go. “There we go.” 

She smiled involuntarily, although it was an embarrassed one. 

“Chicken tandoori pizza?” The waiter appeared by the table at the right time, holding the freshly baked pizza in a tray. 

The savory, spicy, and buttery smell of the pizza filled the air and the two watched eagerly as the waiter placed it on the table along with two plates, a bottle of ketchup, and little bottles of seasonings. Thanks to the sight and smell of the food, the embarrassed smile on the lady's face turned into one of utter, unbridled joy, as if nothing happened at all. Simon was relieved to see this and he smiled to himself, admiring her unintentional cuteness.

They served themselves the pizza slices and she began to eat daintily and carefully so as to not make a mess, but the deliciousness overcame her and she began scarfing it down ravenously like a dog that hasn't eaten for days, all the while singing its praises. Simon was amused to see how much she enjoyed the food, and his relief settled in firmly. Truly, there was nothing good food couldn't fix. 

After eating, Simon footed the bill despite her protesting, but he proposed a compromise where she could pay the next time they hung out. He was very persuasive, and she had to relent. 

They went to the arcade as planned, since Simon wanted to introduce her to his favourite games. And of course, their two spies followed them there swiftly, as Lindsey was keen on seeing this whole thing through. 

He taught her to play Counter Strike, first on single-player before the two tackled multiplayer together. She lamented about it being very hard, but Simon encouraged her and they played a few more times. 

They then played a racing game with actual steering wheels, and the lady bested Simon completely, which came as a surprise to both. 

“How are you so good at this?!” exclaimed Simon, staring at the ‘YOU LOSE’ slapped on his screen just above his crashed car. 

“I'm good at driving.” She winked at him, or rather attempted to; it came out as a blink. 

He chuckled. “Good at driving me crazy.” He thought to himself, finding it cute that she couldn't wink. “Well, I admit that I'm pretty bad at driving.” 

She laughed at this confession. “Really? Then it's ironic that you're a car mechanic.” 

He shrugged, smiling, “That's exactly the reason why I am one.” 

After playing a few more other games, the lady spotted a photobooth and pulled Simon with her to take some photos together. Simon wasn't much of a photo person, but he didn't need pulling; he was more than willing and happy to do what she wanted to do. 

They took four photos, all of them printed on a single strip of photo paper the size of her hand. Two copies were made for each of them, and she looked at them fondly. 

“This commemorates our first time hanging out,” she said with a grin as they stepped out of the booth. 

“We should visit a photobooth every time we hang out,” he jokingly suggested, only half serious about it. 

But she actually took this into consideration. “That's a good idea. I really like having photos like these to look back on, you know.” 

Simon immediately took mental note of that. 

“The only problem though,” he flapped the strip of photo paper to see what sound it made, “If we hang out a lot then we'll have too many photos.” 

“You're right,” she chuckled, “So, how about for special occasions then?” 

“Sounds good,” he smiled.

As they walked around the arcade looking for something else to play, the claw machine caught the lady's attention. Yet again she excitedly dragged Simon to it, and yet again, he didn't mind at all. 

While she looked through the glass box for her target plushie, Simon leaned his shoulder against the machine slightly, gazing and admiring her side profile and the focus in her darting eyes in the soft yellow lights. He watched as she put in a coin and started directing the claw to the farthest corner of the box, trying to pick up a little skeleton plushie. 

“Ugh,” she grumbled when the claw dropped the plushie so close yet so far away from the depositing hole. “I'm so bad at this,” she said with a frown, “I'm not spending another dime.”

“Here, I'll try,” Simon offered. 

She was about to move away to give him space, but he stood behind her before she did, and placed his hands on the joystick and buttons on the machine in front of her, essentially trapping her in between. 

“You want that skeleton doll, right?” he asked, leaning down slightly so that his mouth was just a little above her ear. 

She nodded, feeling her heart pounding in her burning ears. The closeness of his voice instantly reminded her of the “Good night, love” voice message he sent her only earlier that week. She breathed in and out to compose herself and not appear as though she was heavily affected by him. 

She would've watched how he controlled the claw, but she was far too distracted by his hands. They were huge, but that was to be expected of a tall, burly man who went to the gym six times a week. His nerves and blue-green veins popped out over his pale skin as his thick fingers managed the controls. The very controls were on her mid-waist level, and she couldn't help but consider what it would feel like if his hand accidentally brushed her waist as he pulled it away, or better yet, what it would feel like if he actually held her waist, circled it with his arm, trailed down to her hips and- 

“Yes, got it!” Simon exclaimed, interrupting her reverie. 

She blinked away the distant look in her eyes and heard the soft thump of the soft toy falling down the deposit hole. She watched as he brought out the skeleton plushie she wanted and handed it to her. 

“There you go. Got it on my first try,” he said with a proud, boyish grin. 

She accepted the plushie and grinned. “You're good at this.” 

“Yeah, I've always been weirdly good with claw machines,” he bragged. He moved to the machine again to try his luck, and this time, she moved away to avoid another heart attack. 

Another dime in, and out came a Charizard plushie in no time. He smiled a celebratory grin, and then handed the soft, cuddly Pokémon to her. “That's for you.” 

“For me?” she blinked. 

“As thanks for hanging out with me tonight.” He nudged the soft toy to her, urging her to accept it. 

She accepted it, holding both soft toys close to her chest. “Thanks, Simon.”

He smiled gently, feeling his endearment towards her increase. “No problem, darling.” 

The spies watched from a distance. Johnny was pleased; he never saw Simon smile and laugh so much in the presence of a woman or even in general. He was all smiles as he stealthily took his photos. 

Lindsey, on the other hand, seemed a little sullen as she watched her friend give Simon an adoring look as she cuddled her new gifts. Johnny noticed this and nudged her arm. 

“Wit's the matter, lassie?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” She looked away from the sickeningly sweet sight. 

Johnny looked at the two and then back at Lindsey. “If it really was nothing, ye'd be smiling right now.”

Lindsey shot an annoyed glare at Johnny, who was smirking at her. He playfully rolled his eyes. “Ye lassies sure love the word ‘nothing’ like it does ye any favours. It doesnae hurt to be honest for once, ye ken?” 

Lindsey also rolled her eyes, further annoyed by his playful directness. She decided it would be better to spit it out. “They look… Happy.” 

“Aye, they do,” he smiled, “Are ye jealous?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Because ye want something like that?” 

She hated how he read her like an open book. Or maybe she wore her heart on her sleeve. She didn't know which one. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. 

Johnny saw his chance. “I can give ye that, if you'll let me.” 

She whipped her head towards him, making her long hair slap against his arm. “Uh, what?” She raised a brow. 

“I know ye heard me,” 

She narrowed her eyes at him and scoffed. “You're confident.” 

“Is my confidence a problem for you, wee lassie?” He asked with a smile. 

She looked away, as if considering it. “No… not at all.”

“Then what's stopping you?” 

“You're a stranger,” she said, knowing it was a weak argument. 

He rolled his eyes. “As if strangers can't be friends… or more.”

She shook her head and handed him her phone, the screen displaying the dialer. “Go on.” 

He grinned triumphantly. “Score.” 

Simon took ____ back to her place and offered to walk her to her door. It was late after all, and he didn't want her to go by herself. 

“Thanks for today,” she said as soon as they had stopped by her door. 

“No problem, darling,” he smiled, “So, here's where you live, huh?” His eyes turned to the door number to see what it was. 

“Yeah, you should come over sometime.” 

“Sure, I will.” 

The chime of the elevator echoed in the quiet corridors and out of the open doors emerged a slightly disheveled man in a suit. When he raised his head, he was met with the sight of his neighbor with Simon. 

“Hey, ____,” he greeted with a smile as he approached the two. He motioned with his eyes to Simon. “Your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, my boyfriend,” she said, remembering their agreement, “Simon.” 

The gentleness on Simon's face was replaced with annoyance at the entrance of her neighbor. He was just a little shorter than Simon, black-haired and brown eyed, and just as muscular as the other. He held out his hand, a cordial and friendly smile on his face as he introduced himself, “Alejandro. Nice to meet you.” 

Simon took his hand and shook it firmly, nearly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Pleasure,” he lied. 

Alejandro noted Simon's intensity, but only smiled wider. As soon as their hands let go, he gave Simon a pat on the shoulder. “Alright then, you two have fun. Good night.”

“Good night, Alejandro,” the lady returned, blushing a little bit at his last line. 

He walked past them to his apartment two doors away and disappeared behind it. The two looked back at each other. 

“Your neighbour,” he began. 

“My neighbour.” 

“Are you two close?” He glanced at Alejandro's door. 

She shrugged, leaning against her door to support her tired legs. “We're acquaintances at most.” 

“I see.” He raised his arm and leaned against the doorframe, allowing his shadow to fall over her, and for his honey eyes to darken. “If he acts weird with you, you know who to call,” he said in a whisper. 

Simon was naturally tall, but the gesture along with the shadow, his broad chest and shoulders made him appear larger and more dominant. Her stomach took no time to turn into a circus, her legs overcooked noodles, and her face a furnace. If she had any feminism at all in her, she could feel it evaporate. 

“He's fine, I don't think he'll do anything weird,” she finally answered, looking away shyly. 

“Hmm…” he paused, “But still, just in case.” 

There was a brief silence between them, and Simon stood up straight. 

“Also, don't worry about your ex. He won't be calling you anymore. I made sure of that.” 

She sighed, “I'm in your debt.” 

He chuckled, and ruffled her hair. “You don't have to be. I'm just looking out for a friend.”

“That means a lot.”

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, feeling a little fuzzy about what she said. “Now you better get back in and go to bed,” he quickly said. 

“Don't forget your jacket.” She took off his leather jacket, sad that she had to part with its warmth already. 

He took it and jokingly inspected it for any damage. “You've taken good care of it,” he said with a cheeky smirk. 

“Come on,” she rolled her eyes, laughing, “I know how to take care of other people's things.” 

“Good, because if you do,” he slung the jacket over one of his shoulders, “I'll feel like lending you my jacket more often.” 

“That's a win for me,” she now unlocked her door and attempted a wink again, but failed, making him chuckle. 

“Wait, before you go,” he paused and shoved his hand in his pocket, “Do you want a kiss?” 

She had to do a double take. “A what?” 

He pulled out a Hershey's Kiss from his pocket. “A Kiss?” 

She stared at the sweet treat in his hand and then burst out laughing. “Oh yes, sure. Thank you.” she said as she took the Kiss, her face burning with embarrassment for having misunderstood him. 

He smiled, also feeling his cheeks turn pink, thinking of the future possibility of giving her an actual kiss. “Right then,” he finally said, now stepping back, “I'll be off now.” 

“Alright, take care on your way back,” she waved at him, “Text me when you reach.” 

He chuckled at the role reversal. “Sure. Good night, my love.”

Her heart fluttered and a warm but shy smile pulled her lips. “Good night, Simon.” 

She closed the door and he walked away, both feeling more drawn to each other than ever, and relieved that her past relationship was not going to hinder what they already had and what they secretly wanted to have. 

As she entered her bedroom, she first took out the strip of photos from her bag and stared at it. While she was grinning and being goofy, Simon was more tame with his poses and smiles. When she had pinned it to the board over her desk with a magnet, she brought out the Kiss he gave her, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth, allowing it to melt on her tongue. It was a sweet way to end the enjoyable evening. An actual kiss would have been amazing, but this sufficed for now. 

She then took out the plushies she received and placed the Charizard on her bed, while the skeleton remained in her hand. She was glad that he didn't ask her why she wanted this particular one, because she wouldn't be able to admit that it reminded her of him. 

“My love, my love, my love.” His endearment echoed in her thoughts repeatedly, causing her another flutter. If his sweet words were a breeze, then she was a tree, ever fluttering and rustling gently, swaying hopelessly in love. 

“Don't take it too seriously,” she ended up reminding herself; he could have meant it cordially. It was only safe to assume that. 

She fell back on the bed, feeling the high she felt now settle down. Holding the skeleton plush high over her head, she stared at it, half wishing it was Simon who was hovering over her. She decided to name the soft toy,

“Simon.”

End of Part 6.

Part 7

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[aoioozora]

I just read your flight to dreamland johnny cage x reader fic and omg I love it! I was wondering would u do a part 2 about when they both wake up and confess their feelings officially and end up being bf and gf?????

Or would you still write johnny cage x fem reader fics? There's not enough johnny fics *cries*

Sure babes <3 Thanks for requesting!

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Destination Dreamland.

[Part 1]

Character: Johnny Cage Content: fluff, cuddling, confession, Kung Lao kameo Photo credit: clowning_kar Note: wrote this in a hurry, mb if it's goofy lol

Kung Lao threw open the door of your room without knocking.

“Wakey wakey, princess girlypop!” he announced. He had an odd habit of giving his friends cringy nicknames.

When he didn't find you in your bed, his brows furrowed. “Where'd she go? I didn't see her in the training grounds, nor anywhere else…” he murmured. He thought for a while at the door, but to no avail, and he shook his head. “Never mind. I'll wake Johnny up.” 

He headed to Johnny's room and quietly cracked the door open. Peering inside, he observed that the mass that made up his body seemed larger than usual under the blankets. Not to mention, he found your blanket on the floor by his bed. An eyebrow was raised. This meant only one thing. 

He inched closer and his suspicions were confirmed. You were indeed in Johnny's bed, fast asleep and comfortably and partially under his heavier body. Your arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, and his nose nuzzled in your neck. Kung Lao could guess that Johnny also probably had his arm around your waist. He also noted that both of your clothes were intact, which meant that nothing intimate had been done the previous night. 

“PG-13 night, eh?” he muttered to himself, disappointed to learn this. 

A mischievous idea popped up in his mind. He snickered quietly as he took out his phone and took a photo, which he sent to Johnny along with an equally mischievous caption. That being done, he hopped out of the room, leaving the two of you to continue cuddling. 

Not long after he left, Johnny stirred awake. As his eyes fluttered open, he was greeted by the sweet smell of your neck and its delicate skin against his lips. He groaned quietly and lazily and nuzzled his face deeper in your neck. He stayed still for a while, trying to get in a few more winks of sleep, but to no avail. 

Seeing that you were still asleep, he pulled away slightly and reached his arm out to the nightstand to grab his cellphone. A glance at the time told him he wasn't quite late for anything, and he sighed in relief. Just as he was about to keep his device aside, he noticed a message from Kung Lao, and from not too long ago either. 

“What did this guy send me…” Johnny murmured under his breath as he carefully moved your arm away from his shoulders and rolled over on his back just to give you some space. He brought the phone closer to himself to see what was so urgent that Kung Lao had to text. 

He opened the message and was greeted by the photo he had taken, along with the caption below which read, “Paps would eat this up 😉”. 

Johnny sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to scream, get out of bed, hunt down Kung Lao, and throw some hands. But with the little princess by his side sleeping peacefully, he didn't dare to even squeak. 

He took a couple deep breaths. When he had calmed down, he looked at the photo again and scoffed. “That bastard's not so bad after all. This picture is good. I look sexy, and she looks hot.” he thought to himself approvingly, “But Kung Lao still might have to catch my hands though. I wouldn't want this leaking to the paps.” 

As he was lost in his thoughts, he heard you groan quietly and roll over on your side, facing him. You also seemed to be trying to sleep in, and he smiled. 

“Hey, princess, wake up,” he whispered, tapping your cheek gently. 

You let out a sound that was a mixture of a groan and a whine, like you were being woken up early to go to school. He chuckled at this and now also rolled on his side to face you, propping up his head on his hand. 

“Princeeeess,” he called, tapping your cheek faster, “Wake up, I want to show you something.” 

“What?” You murmured in a soft croak. 

“C'mon, open your eyes.” 

You forced your heavy eyes open and Johnny's face was not too far from yours, looking at you with a smile. His hair was a little disheveled, but it looked cute. He held his phone screen up to you to show the photo. 

Upon looking at the photo, your sleepiness vanished. You stared at it with wide eyes and your cheeks burned hot enough to cook a sunny side up well done. “What? Who? How?” You sputtered in confusion, looking at Johnny, “Who took this?” 

“Kung Lao,” Johnny answered, shrugging nonchalantly but the corner of his lip reached his cheek, as he was amused by your reaction. “What do you think of it?” 

You blushed. “It's not right to take photos of others without their permission.” Even though you said that, you couldn't help but feel fluttery at the fact that your close proximity with Johnny was actually photographed. 

Johnny smirked at how conflicted you looked. “C'mon sugar, just admit that you like it,” he said, as he briefly looked back at his phone to forward the photo to you, “Sure, Kung Lao was an ass to sneak up on us like this, but don't you think we got a cute photo out of it?” 

You sighed, stuffing your face back in the pillow. “I guess…” You finally admitted. The thought of the picture flashed in your mind again, and you smiled against the pillow. 

He fiddled around with his phone a little more before throwing it aside on the bed and turning his full attention towards you. “Now, princess,” he started in a whisper, “Did you have a nice flight to Dreamland?” 

He heard your muffled giggle, and smiled again. You turned your head slightly so he could see your eye, and a hint of your smile. “Very nice. I didn't know you put me in business class.” 

“Business class?!” he said incredulously and scoffed with exaggeration, “Sugar, I put you in princess class.” 

Your giggles increased. “Is it better than business class?” 

“Astronomically better.” he said, almost like a politician, “Now, as your flight attendant, I need to conduct a survey. Will you participate?” 

“Of course,” You chuckled, amused by this role play. 

“Okay, let's begin,” he pushed up his imaginary pair of glasses, “Question one: did you find the bed and seating comfortable enough?” he asked, opening his arms to expose his chest to you, reminding you that his body was your bed for a time the previous night. 

“I found it very comfortable. More comfortable than my own bed.” You answered, smiling gently, thinking back to how his chest and arms made fine pillows. 

He caught the dreamy look in your eye and smiled, feeling a little giddy that you enjoyed his cuddles. He cleared his throat to compose himself. “Perfect. Question two: How did you find the temperature of your surroundings? Was it too cold? Too hot? Or just right?”

You paused to think of how toasty you felt cuddled up with him under the blanket, and you could feel your cheeks warm again. “Just right.” You replied. 

His curious brown eyes watched your reactions with careful curiosity. He moved a little closer, looking at you through slightly narrowed eyes, the corner of his lip tugged into a half smirk, half affectionate smile. His hand reached out to your face, and his index finger brushed lightly against your cheekbone, allowing a stray strand of your hair to be tucked behind your ear. “And question three,” he said in an even quieter whisper, “Describe your experience in Dreamland. What did you see there?” 

“Is this a roundabout way of asking if I had any dreams?” You asked in a voice that you fought hard to keep level and calm. 

“Yep.” 

While his hand amused itself with now lightly stroking your jaw, you paused to strain your memory. His touching sure was making it hard, thanks to all the butterflies it provoked to excitement in your stomach. After a few moments of thought, you shook your head. “I don't remember anything I saw in Dreamland.” 

He raised his eyes in mock surprise. “Positive?” 

“Positive.” 

He inched closer, now pulling his hand away from your jaw to snake it around your waist. He leaned close to your ear and whispered, “That's not what your flight attendant witnessed last night.” 

His hand slid against your waist and moved to your lower back. His whisper, the breath tickling your ear, made your stomach about as wild as a circus. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you asked, clutching the mess of sheets beneath you in your hands, “What do you mean?” 

“You were dreaming, sleep talking even,” he said, “Do you know what you said?” 

“What?” 

“You called me by name and said…” he said, dragging it out a little longer for effect, “ ‘I love you.’ ” 

You felt your heart stop. Those words instantly brought to memory the dream you had, where you saw a hazy mirage of him, and did clearly and audibly say those words. But you never imagined you would say it out loud in your sleep. Your cheeks burned again, and you looked away, your own words giving you second-hand embarrassment. You replied, “I said that?”

He nodded, smiling. “I was going to end the survey there, but now, thanks to that, I feel like I must ask you just one more question.” 

“Okay, go on.” You gulped, nervous, hoping he wouldn't ask you what you dreamed about, because you couldn't even remember it properly. 

“I know we throw around ‘I love you’ a lot, and we're just friends, but I can't help but wonder, do you maybe like me more than just friends?”

The way he asked it so directly made your heart drop to your stomach. You knew he was always straightforward to a fault, but it always caught you by surprise. You could feel his thumb rubbing against your waist as his hand rested there, almost as if it was a request to you to be honest. 

He saw your hesitation, and his thumb continued to rub your waist gently. “C'mon angel, even if you give me a negative, I'm not gonna bite.” he encouraged, “But I know for sure that it's not a negative.” 

He said it with such unwavering confidence that it compelled you to admit it. But you asked, “How are you so sure?” 

He rolled his eyes. “We're practically cuddling like lovers right now. I have my hand on your waist and you're not exactly opposed to me touching you like this.” his thumb started to rub a little more slowly, and you could feel your breathing deepen. He noticed this, and smirked. “Look, you're proving me right.” 

This was your chance to tell him, but you didn't know why you were so hesitant. 

“Why are you scared? Everything's in your favor. Just admit it and I'm yours to keep.” he whispered. 

The encouragement worked. “Okay, you're right,” You sighed, blushing, “I do like you more than just a friend.”

He chuckled. “I knew it. Saw it coming from a mile away. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist such a charming man as me,” he said, nose in the air. “So tell me, what sold you? This Greek god bod? This Adonis face? Or was it my sexy voice? My smile? My charisma?” 

“None of the above.” You said with a proud smirk. 

“None? No way, that's bullshit.” 

“Okay, they had a part to play, I admit, but they weren't the main things that sold me.” 

“I'm waiting.” 

“Your silliness.” You explained, “You're silly enough to pretend to be a flight attendant just to put me to sleep. That's actually really sweet.” 

“Oh,” he chuckled, smirking, “That makes sense. So, that means you like a nice guy, huh? What happened to girls liking bad boys?”

“I don't know about other girls, but I like a nice guy.” You replied. 

“Mmhmm. Tell me what else you like about me.” he grinned, continuing to rub his thumb on your waist. 

“You're really funny.” You said immediately. 

“I could tell,” he nodded, “You always seem to be laughing at the jokes I make, no matter how awful they are.” 

“But you make some good jokes, though.” 

“Either that, or you're so in love with me that everything I say makes you laugh.” 

You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes. “Shut up.” 

He took hold of your hand before you pulled it away, brought it to his lips, and kissed your palm. You felt fluttery again, and your cheeks turned warm. He pressed his lips on your wrist and glanced at you, looking for a reaction. He was pleased to see you looking so flustered, shy, and happy at the same time. 

“You like it?” he murmured against your wrist before kissing it again. 

You nodded. 

“You got a fine taste in men, babe,” he said huskily, now kissing your fingers, “You chose the right guy.” 

“Why do you say that?” You asked, smiling, intrigued by his confidence. 

“I got the looks and the personality, and I know I can make you feel so loved, much more than you can ask for. I can make all the jokes you want and make you laugh, and I can put your little insomniac ass to sleep whenever you like.” He took your hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb as he gave you a sly smile. “What d'you think of that?” 

“I think that sounds great.” You squeezed his hand. 

Smiling gently, he squeezed your hand back. He bent down his head and lovingly and respectfully kissed the back of your hand, sending more butterflies in a delightful frenzy in your stomach. 

“Then I promise to make every single day together like Dreamland.”

End.

Read these next maybe?

🌸 Kenshi does your hair

🌸 Liu Kang tries the karaoke

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #johnny cage #mk1 2023 #mk johnny cage #mortal kombat johnny cage #johnny cage mk #johnny cage x reader #mk1 x reader #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage x you #johnny cage fluff #fluff #fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fluff #mk fanfic #mk fandom #aoioozora writes

[aoioozora]

Kanzashi.

Character: Kenshi Takahashi

Content: fluff, fem reader, Kenshi doing your hair.

Though he couldn't see it, Kenshi stood in front of Sento and had his head tilted upward facing its display, knowing exactly where it was. 

He reached out and stroked the smooth black sheath of the blade, feeling his fingertips glide. Though he couldn't see, he could remember how the lovely blade looked, color and embellishments. 

He brought his hand down slightly and touched the object below it. Though a lot smaller than the blade, this thing was just as precious, considering how it was on a stand of its own. It was a kanzashi, a Japanese ornamental hairpin that belonged to his mother. It was an heirloom passed down to female members of the family. If a mother had no daughters, it would be passed down to the wife of the eldest son. It promised bountiful luck and protection to the wearer. 

The hairpin was made of pure gold, decked with forged red camellias, flowers that symbolized love, humility, and loyalty. Golden rings and tassels hung from it's tightly twined black threads, making it a stunning and highly prized work of art. Its continual bequeathing did nothing to tarnish the beauty of the hairpin, and it remained as gorgeous as ever. 

“Kenshi!” 

An unmistakable voice called in the distance, muffled slightly by walls and doors, which garnered his attention. It was you, his girlfriend of three years. Smiling, he turned to the direction of your voice.  

The sliding door opened with a soft rattle and he heard your footsteps against the soft tatami mats. 

“There you are,” you sighed, now approaching him; he could hear you smile. “I was looking all over for you.” 

“What happened?” he asked with mingled curiosity and concern, holding out his hand in search of you. 

You moved closer to him and clasped his hand. “Nothing happened,” you assured, “I just needed help with my hair.” 

You had recently broken your arm during training, and doing menial things was really difficult. Kenshi tried to help you as much as he could, but you hated to ask a blind man to assist you. The only thing you allowed him to do was to tie your hair whenever you needed it, since he found pleasure in it. 

“Of course,” he smiled. 

You stood in front, your back facing him and guided his hands to your hair. He first felt your hair by stroking it and it was smooth, just like Sento's sheath. 

He took a moment to undo the tangles in your hair by combing it with his fingers. It felt like a great massage to feel his fingertips run against your scalp, and you leaned into his touch. 

“How do you want me to do your hair?” he asked, gathering your hair in his hands and twisting it around as if to try putting it in a bun. 

“Just a ponytail.”

Kenshi would not be satisfied with just a ponytail. He believed that such a beautiful lady like you ought to wear her hair intricately decorated. But he decided to go along with your wish. 

He let your hair go and combed his fingers through the strands once again. You could feel his fingers touch your neck, and despite the many years, his touch still made you feel jittery. He gathered the stray strands of hair at the base of your neck and gently tugged the tail downwards, making your head go up slightly. He ran his rugged, calloused hand over your head, and ran his fingers against your temples to tuck any remaining hair into the tail.

He loved how silky your hair was, and enjoyed the smell of shampoo wafting from it. 

“Give me the hair tie,” he said, holding his hand out over your shoulder. 

You placed the hair tie on his palm, which he immediately clamped between his pursed lips. He swiped his hands over your head, neck, and sides once again and then tied the hair tie around the tail. 

“Thanks, sweetie,” you said gleefully. 

He could feel a little breeze on his face, and could tell that you were excitedly swishing around the ponytail to test how secure it was, like you always did. Just as you were about to leave, he stopped you. 

“Hold on a minute. I need you to close your eyes.” he suddenly said. 

“Why?” He figured you turned to face him, considering how your voice seemed louder. 

“Just trust me.”

You obeyed and closed your eyes. Since Kenshi was still in front of the prized display, he turned around and took the precious kanzashi. Holding it in both his hands, he now asked you to open your eyes. 

“This… This is the hairpin your mother gave you.” you said as soon as you had opened your eyes. He could hear the surprise in your voice. 

“I'll put it in your hair. Turn around now.” Kenshi put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. 

“But Kenshi…” you paused but still allowed him to turn you around, and you told him about the rule of passing down the hairpin. “I'm not your wife. Why would you give it to me?” 

Kenshi was silent as he twisted your hair in a simple bun and secured it with the gorgeous hairpin. Though he couldn't see it, he knew it looked stunning on you, and enhanced your existing beauty. 

“Do you want to be my wife?” he gulped nervously, feeling his face turn hot as he busied his hand with adjusting your hair, when it clearly didn't need any. 

Without hesitation, you exclaimed, “Yes!” and said it so loudly that you nearly busted Kenshi's eardrums. 

“Hey, don't add to the list of my disabilities,” he said with a chuckle, obviously joking. He never considered his blindness a disability, but a blessing, and he was sure to say the same if he became deaf. 

You giggled. “Sorry,” you said cutely as you then took his rugged, tattooed hands and looked at the floor-length mirror on your right, “I can see myself in the mirror, and the hairpin looks really nice on me. I wish you could see it.”

“I know what you look like, so I can imagine how you look, and I know you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.” He held your wrists and lifted your arms up to rest them on his shoulders. 

Understanding what he wanted, you moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands let your wrists go, and feeling your body up against his, his hands immediately found their place on your waist. 

“What if I become ugly and you didn't know? Would you still love me?” you asked in a whisper as your fingers trailed up his neck and combed through his short black hair. 

“No matter how you look, my dear, I'll always love you. I don't love you just because I find you beautiful…” he paused to gently rub your waist, making you sigh, “I love you because you have a pure heart, and you've been with me through thick and thin.”

He paused, feeling a sob choke his throat. It wasn't everyday he felt emotional like this, especially for a Japanese man of his caliber. It was only in front of you he could feel comfortable being emotional, and your arms were his hiding place. 

He continued, swallowing down his sobs to speak and try and speak clearly, only for it to still be slightly muddled with emotion, “I've had you when I had my eyes, and I thought you wouldn't stay when I became blind.” His voice was choked again, and you tightened your arms around him and rubbed his shoulder. 

“But you stayed. And you cared for me, helped me.” He responded to you by tightening his grip around your waist, pulling you still closer. Those were only a few words, but in them were condensed his memories of you, three years worth of your love, service, and patience toward him when he needed it the most. 

“I could not have asked for a better partner than you. I cannot imagine loving anyone that's not you.” 

You smiled at this, and snuggled your face in his neck. He paused again, and you didn't speak yet, sensing that he had more to say. His arms tightened further around you. 

“My love for you is blind,” he said with a chuckle,“and that's why I want to marry you.”

You smiled. While it wasn't everyday that he was emotional, it was also not everyday that he expressed his love for you in long winded speeches, apart from the usual and genuine “I love you”. You knew he was an awkward man who knew how to show his love through action and service, the typical Asian way. Yet you appreciated his often clumsy efforts to verbally express his affection for you, knowing that you loved to hear it, and that it would make the relationship sweeter. 

And this speech had such an effect. 

“Have I answered your question?” he asked, now feeling your hand caress his rough, stubbly jaw. 

You brushed your thumb against his lower lip so as to not give him a surprise, and in response to his question, kissed him. He eagerly kissed back, and held you tighter against him. 

His hand traveled up your back, to the nape of your neck, and to the back of your head, and he felt the cold metal of the precious kanzashi against his fingers. The threads and tassels twisted around his fingers as you two shared this special kiss. 

Thoughts and imaginations passed through his buzzing mind, thinking about what it would be like to be husband and wife, living together closer than ever, having children, growing gray together, in sickness and in health, through wealth and poverty. 

He sighed contentedly as he kissed you, knowing that down the line, it was only going to get better. Sweeter with age, just like wine.

Untarnished like the kanzashi.

End.

My other MK fanfiction:

🌸 Johnny Cage sings you to sleep

🌸 Liu Kang tries the karaoke

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat fanfiction #kenshi takahashi #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 fanfic #mk kenshi #mk kenshi takahashi #kenshi takashi x reader #Kenshi takahashi x y/n #Kenshi takahashi x you #mk fanfic #mk fandom #aoioozora writes

[aoioozora]

Liu Kang Tries Earthrealm Activities: The Karaoke.

Characters: Liu Kang, Johnny Cage

Content: singing, joking, memes, friendly LK and JC interactions

Photo credit: your mom

Note: Idk if anyone has done this before, but I thought it would be funny lol. Enjoy!

“Hey Liu Kang! We should totally go to the karaoke!” Johnny Cage exclaimed, barging into the room Liu Kang was in. 

The fire god, not quite bothered by the disruption, patiently looked up from the scroll he was reading and stared at confusion at the actor, trying to process what he just said. 

“What's a karaoke, Johnny Cage?” Liu Kang asked innocently, his glowing eyes gleaming with interest. 

Johnny was about to look at the god with a “are you kidding me bruh?” look, but remembered that Liu Kang was a deity and wasn't fully familiar with Earthrealmer activities. 

“You wanna find out?” asked Johnny, slapping his chest, puffed both with muscle and mostly pride, “Because,” he now sang, raising his arm in the air and slowly swiping it across him, “I can show you the world,” 

Liu Kang, not understanding the reference and taking it literally, smiled. “And I created this world,” he said. 

Johnny clicked his tongue at the other's incompetence in matters of cultural importance. “You say that, but know nothing of what Earthrealmers do in their spare time.” He taunted with a playful smirk. 

Liu Kang smiled again. “That's why I can count on you to help me.”

Johnny laughed. “You came to the right person! Now, off to the karaoke we go!” 

As the two men went, with Johnny leading, Liu Kang silently pondered and was intrigued by this strange sounding place that Johnny was so excited about. When they reached, Johnny booked a room for two hours and before they knew it, they were in a dark room with disco lights and a glittering above, a computer, and television screen. Across the television sat two couches and a table. 

“Well?” asked Johnny, motioning at the room, “What do you think?”

Liu Kang stared confusedly at the room. He had seen all these things separately before, but all of them put together in one room made him wonder how they all worked together. Johnny, seeing his companion's reaction, brought him inside and showed him the ropes. 

Johnny first chose a song; International Love seemed to be his first choice, since a video with the song and his face went viral on the socials, causing the song to be his unofficial theme song. 

“You put it down like New York City! I never sleep! Wild like Los Angeles, my fantasy!”

Liu Kang watched carefully as Johnny sang his heart out and busted out some of his favorite dance moves. The disco lights went crazy on their own, and even in this high strung environment, he was calmly observing the modus operandi of a “karaoke session”. 

When Johnny finished singing, he let out a heavy, but satisfied sigh and handed the mic to Liu Kang.  “Your turn.” he said.

Liu Kang looked curiously at the object Johnny was handing him and remembered that it was a microphone which was handy in amplifying one's voice. He took it, and then looked through the computer screen in front of him, looking at the vast array of songs, none of which he knew. 

After looking in vain for a song he knew, he asked, “Do they have Chinese songs?” 

“Yeah! They got songs in all languages!” Johnny exclaimed and then showed Liu Kang where to find them. 

When Liu Kang saw his native tongue on the screen, he felt at ease, and now put his all into searching for a good song. A lot of them looked like modern songs that hardly made sense to him, but one of them, an old song, caught his eye. 

He declared he would sing it and stood up in front of the television screen where the lyrics were now showing up. 

“Liu Kang! Liu Kang! Liu Kang!” Johnny cheered with a woop, egging him on to start singing. 

He soon did, and Johnny was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Liu Kang's voice was so melodious and soulful. When he had thought of it, he had never really heard Liu Kang sing before. 

Just as Johnny felt like he heard this song somewhere, Liu Kang sang the chorus with passionately, 

“Xuě huā piāo piāo běi fēng xiāo xiāo, tiāndì yīpiàn cāngmáng,”

Johnny chuckled, immediately recognising it. 

When Liu Kang finished his soulful number, Johnny asked him if it was his favorite song. 

“Of course it is. There are very few songs I enjoy and this is one of them.” answered Liu Kang with a wide grin, feeling ecstatic after singing. 

“I've a request for you to sing. It's also a Chinese song.” said Johnny with a mischievous smirk. 

Liu Kang, happy to sing some more, eagerly asked Johnny which song he had in mind. Johnny had to keep himself from laughing as he made Liu Kang listen to it on his phone first. 

“This is a good song! The singer is so kind as to make a song for sad people to feel happy again. Excellent choice, Johnny Cage.” Liu Kang said approvingly. “I didn't know you liked Chinese songs.” 

Johnny flashed an amused smirk, lying straight through his teeth, “Yeah, my recent obsession. I gotta promote my movies in China too, so, I gotta learn Chinese to up my social credits.” he shrugged, smiling. “You got the tune down?” 

“Yes, I think I can sing it.”

He started singing the first stanza, and Johnny sat with feverish excitement for his favorite part of the song to come. 

“Má hái guăn tā gàn má xīn lĭ yào jì de,”

Johnny smirked. It was coming. 

Liu Kang took a deep breath and started singing the chorus. 

“Nĭ shì nèi nèi gè nèi nèi, nèi gè nèi gè nèi gè nèi nèi,”

Johnny lost it. He started laughing hysterically, even falling over on the couch, holding his sides. 

Liu Kang, startled by Johnny's sudden laughter, stopped singing. By this time, Johnny was wheezing, laughing, and coughing all at once. The singer's confusion and concern only added to the other's hysterics. 

“Johnny Cage, why are you laughing?” demanded Liu Kang, now slightly annoyed. 

“It's nothing!” Johnny said through his coughs as he wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling. 

“Tell me why.” 

“Ain't nothing but a heartache!” Johnny returned, his hysterics starting again, now louder than the music. 

Liu Kang looked on, his confusion growing by the second. “Did I sing badly?” he asked. 

“No! No, no, you didn't.” Johnny coughed repeatedly. “I just remembered something funny.”

“I want to know what it is.” insisted Liu Kang. 

“Nah, I'm not telling you.” resisted Johnny. He was definitely not yet going to tell him that whatever he was singing sounded like a certain racial slur that started with the letter "n". He wanted to laugh at Liu Kang's innocence a little longer before revealing the truth.

Liu Kang sighed, deciding it wasn't worth his time to know. He was more interested in singing, and continued where he left off. 

When the two hours were up, the two left the karaoke center. 

“So, I see you had fun.” quipped Johnny in a slightly hoarse voice.

“I had the most splendid time, Johnny Cage. Thank you for showing me what a karaoke is.”

“Would you do it again?” 

“Indeed, I would.”

Johnny smirked. “Now let's get some bing chilling!”

“Bing chilling?” Liu Kang looked with confusion at his companion once again, before realising what he said. “You mean bīng qílín, if you're talking about ice cream.” he corrected, “Johnny Cage, your accent and pronunciation are awful. If you're going to promote in China, you should do better.”

“Okay, okay,” Johnny groaned loudly, making a mental note to teach Liu Kang about memes later. 

End.

My other MK fanfiction:

🌸 Johnny Cage sings you to sleep

🌸 Kenshi does your hair

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #liu kang #johnny cage #mk fanfic #mk liu kang #mk johnny cage #mk headcanons #mortal kombat johnny cage #mortal kombat liu kang #mortal kombat fanfiction #mk fandom #mortal kombat fandom #fanfiction #fanfictions #aoioozora writes

[aoioozora]

Guys so sorry for the delay on my Ghost fanfic. I'm rly writer's blocked rn but I'm making slow progress. Love u thanks for patience

#aoioozora writes #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #Simon series

[aoioozora]

aoioozora's fanfiction masterlist

Here's a list of my fanfiction across platforms for easier navigation!

Key:

🌸 - Fluff ⭐ - Comedy

___________________

Mortal Kombat

Series:

Johnny Cage 🌸 Flight to Dreamland 🌸 Destination Dreamland

Oneshots:

Kenshi Takahashi 🌸 Kanzashi

Random:

⭐ Liu Kang Tries Earthrealm Activies: The Karaoke (Liu Kang, Johnny Cage)

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Call of Duty

Series:

Ghost 🌸 Simon

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Other Fandoms

Wattpad - Hetalia, BTS, One Punch Man

Quotev - Jujutsu Kaisen and Slam Dunk oneshots

#aoioozora writes #mortal kombat #call of duty #Simon series

[aoioozora]

I see ff writers on here go "not proofread" and my perfectionist ass cannot fathom it. I literally can't post an ff here without editing and proofreading at least 4 times because if I can't put out my best work I'm automatically a piece of shit, even though I know people would enjoy it anyway, and that even I have enjoyed unedited works of fiction. I admire anyone who can put out an unedited work so easily like that without a thought

#Bruh even as I write this out I'm proofreading it wtf #aoioozora shower thoughts #writing #fanfictions #fanfic #writer #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #perfectionism #author