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hannibals-favourite-meal · 7 months

Text

.⋆｡Gone But Here All The Same｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Being a military wife could be quite lonesome especially being a military wife to a ghost but he knows exactly what you need to make you feel less alone

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (m&f), some reference to death and PTSD but not really, dom!Simon, sex toys, bit of voice kink, size kink

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew what you were getting into when you married Simon. He was a member of the special forces who technically didn’t exist- you were used to the long months when he was shipped off, the anxiety that John Price would show up on your doorstep with a frown and a letter from the military, the anger and the fear that your husband carried on his chest every moment of the day.

You knew all of this and yet you still married him because he was the best thing to ever happen to you and besides that, he was the best lay you ever had.

Simon had ruined you for any other man (and toy) the moment that his thick fingers slipped between your soft thighs and into your panties under the bar table on your third date. He drove you insane with the smallest of touches, playing with your body with a finesse that only a seasoned soldier could.

You constantly ached for him, feeling so hollow without his thick cock stretching you to your absolute limit. Sure the reunion sex was absolutely mind-blowing every time he came home but with Simon leaving for sometimes months at a time, your need for any sort of pleasure drove you insane.

But luckily, he was going to call you today.

Simon called when he could, usually it was from a private number or some foreign phone, a different number every time. He had created a system with you, he would always call on the 13th of every month and if he missed it, he would call you on the 23rd.

You sat on your shared bed, staring intently at your phone. The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as the sun cast a warm orange glow over the large bedroom. You sighed when the clock hit 8, you doubted that he would call today.

A groan slipped from your lips as you rocked forward to slip from the bed, but just then the phone screen lit up, displaying a cute photo of you and Simon on your honeymoon as a random number rolled across the top. You snatched it up and quickly answered.

“Simon.” You breathed, relief flooding your body. His chuckle crackled through your phone’s speaker.

“Hello to you too bunny.” Your smile grew even wider if that was at all possible. He only ever called you bunny when he was in a good mood. You flopped back against the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard, keeping your phone as close as you could in lieu of your husband’s massive body.

“Are you coming home soon?” You tugged the collar of the shirt you were wearing up to your nose, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.

He was silent for a moment. “No, not yet love.” ‘Love’, that’s what he called you when he was trying to let you down easy. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he quickly spoke again. “I do have a present for you bunny.” He purred, his voice dropping down an octave to that deep baritone that haunted your wet dreams.

“But nothing was delivered to the house?”

“Oh bunny.” He said mockingly. “Your present is already in the house. How ‘bout you check my nightstand.” You practically dove over to his side of the bed in your excitement, Simon’s broken laughter following after you.

The drawer slid open and you gasped. Sitting on top of one of his many spare balaclavas and a book he was in the middle of reading was an enormous dildo. There was a suction cup on the bottom where the balls should have been and with a little bow sitting on the head, it made you laugh a little under your breath. “Got it?”

Simon’s voice broke you out of your trance. You snatched up the toy and gasped at the weight of it. “Simon what is this?” You settled back into your original spot, your fingers flexing around the purple silicon almost unconsciously.

“I would think you know what it is considering how often you beg for it.” He said right as your middle finger brushed against an incredibly life-like vein towards the base of the fake cock, a vein you knew very well.

“Is this- is this your cock?” Molten heat pooled between your thighs as you held the toy even tighter, now realising that you were indeed holding a replica of your husband’s generous gift. Already you were using your free hand to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

“Damn right it is. You think I would let another cock near you?” He snarled, sending another wave of arousal right to your core. You moaned softly into the air as your fingers brushed against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the sedative bundle of nerves. “Oh you like that don’t you.”

“Si.” His groan echoed through the room and you could faintly hear the sound of a zipper.

“Go on bunny, get that cunt nice and stretched for my cock.” You were dripping onto the comforter beneath you, desperately eager to follow each and every one of his orders. Excitement began to curl in your stomach as two of your fingers easily slipped into your cunt. It wasn’t nearly enough for you, your fingers weren’t as thick or as long as your husband’s but they were warming you up well enough.

“Can I put it in now?” You pleaded into your phone, needing your husband’s cock nestled inside you once more, even if it was only a replica. He let out a sniffled groan and you could just picture the way he was biting his lip to keep his voice down, his blue eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the base of his dick to stave off his end. He always got noisy when he was about to cum.

“I don’t think your little cunt can handle it.” He managed to get out through clenched teeth. You nodded frantically. “Words bunny.” He snarled, briefly jolting you from your haze.

“Yes Si, can handle you. Always do.” Your other hand practically flew between your thighs, the toy gripped so tightly you could feel the silicon give under the tension. The cold tip bumped against your hot skin as you notched it at your entrance.

Your cunt burned as it finally breached you, dousing the ache in your belly. You whined with pain and Simon moaned. It was no secret that he loved the size difference between you both, he revealed in the way you cried when he fucked you, his massive cock stirring up your guts in the most deliciously painful way.

You could barely breathe as you reached the halfway mark. “So big.” Your back arched and you forced another inch inside you. A wet slapping came through your phone’s speakers along with Simon’s muffled breaths.

An image of him flashed behind your eyes- fully dressed in dark clothes but with his fly open and his thick cargo pants shuffled down his hips just enough for his cock to be free. The ridged lines of his skull mask would hide the way his lips twitched as he got lost in the feel of his gloved fist around his aching length.

You cried out as you finally reached the hilt of the dildo, finally you were full of him once more. “Simon, you feel so good.” You pulled the toy out only a few centimetres before pushing it back in and sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

“Fuck bunny, keep talking.” He ground out as the wet sounds on his end picked up the pace.

“I can feel you in my belly, so big. Stretching me out.” Your hand began to move faster. It wasn’t the same as when your husband fucked you, you couldn’t feel his weight keeping you picked to the mattress or the way his cock would throb and twitch within you but the sound of his voice right next to your ear was all the same.

His groan resonated through your chest, lighting your nerves up with that familiar fire. “Take that fucking cock, bunny, be a good girl and fuck yourself on it. Let me hear you cum for me.”

You thrashed on top of the bed, hips rolling down to meet your hand with each thrust. “Simon!” You clumsily strummed your clit with your other hand so wishing for the rough fingertips of your husband instead. “‘M close.” You mewled.

“Cum.” The connection crackled with the depth of his voice but the effect was still the same. Your body seized suddenly as your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Pleasure rippled through you like a tidal wave, both easing and fuelling your lust.

As soon as your breath returned to your lungs, you chanted his name over and over again as you rode out your high. “That’s it, good bunny.” Simon cooed, his breath hitching as he thrust into his fist with an added fervour. You were delirious with ecstasy, the toy inside of you now only keeping you full while your orgasm began to fade.

“Simon. Need your cum.” You begged softly into the phone. “Please Simon. Need it so bad.” He gasped and then moaned deep in his chest.

“Shit.” He said breathlessly after a moment. “Shoulda brought a towel with me.” He grumbled and you laughed.

As gently as you could, you eased the dildo from your cunt. You winced at the stretch, now feeling sore and satisfied for the first time in two months. “How much longer do you have left on the call?” There was a grunt and then the sound of a zipper.

“Not long.” You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. Simon always got quiet after sex, his pillow talk was practically non-existent.

“I love you.” There was a beat and then.

“Go take a shower and have a snack. Don’t forget water.” He never said it back but you felt it all the same. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was muffled shouting in the background and he sighed. “Stay safe out there. Don’t worry about me.” Your fingers curled around your phone and tucked it closer to your body.

“Always do bunny.” He replied simply. “Always do.”

You held onto the device long after he finally hung up. It was hard being Simon’s wife but it was also the easiest thing in the world because you knew that he would always be right there, even when he was thousands of miles away.

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rainybubbles · 2 months

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141 coming back to you after a eight months mission

Plus size reader :) !

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC)

G H O S T

-Eight long months, every fiber of his being yearned for a hot shower, his eyes struggled to stay open.

- Yet, it wasn't his shabby apartment that the taxi drove to.

-Simon, buried beneath the Ghost's mask, still held a glimmer of humanity within him, a breath hidden beneath Ghost's blood, death, and violence.

-But on that evening, what he ardently desired was them: their gentleness, their scent, their warmth.

-Like a wild animal slowly tamed by food, he returned to them whenever possible.

-Under the pouring rain, he advanced, hastily thanking the driver, the heavy bags weighing on his shoulders.

-He stepped into the still slumbering pastry shop, and the bell rang.

-And there they appeared.

- Covered in flour, with a pastry cap and apron, they were surprised to find someone there at five in the morning.

-"Simon," they murmured.

-The sound of his name was so sweet, so soothing.

- But he wanted more.

-He wanted them to whisper his name over and over again, filled with desire, until they could only utter it, clouded with pleasure.

-His bags fell to the ground, and his arms enveloped them in an instinctive movement.

- Their hair smelled of sugar and butter, the flour staining their black sweater. Simon wanted more.

-"Y/n"

-" I missed you," they whispered.

-He couldn't bring himself to respond, to admit this longing, but they could sense it.

-His arms didn't let them go.

-"Scone?" they asked.

-"No. "

-"Muffin?"

- "No."

-" Croissant?"

- "You," he finally said.

A silence stretched between them.

-"I have to finish my batch, I open in an hour. Do you think you can wait?"

-No, he couldn't. But reason prevailed, and he nodded.

-"I'll help you," he murmured.

-"You barely know how to fold a dough."

-"I can follow orders."

-"Sorry, soldier."

-Their laughter echoed, and a sense of relief washed over him.

- He wanted to hear that sound again and again.

- In silence, they worked. Simon followed every move, ignoring the pain, stretching each muscle. He was ready for anything.

-When the last batch was ready and the saleswoman arrived, Simon breathed a sigh of relief.

-Y/n gave their final instructions and left.

-Alone on the street, they walked together.

-Like a starving beast, Simon jumped at every crumb of affection, grabbing their hand, his fingers brushing theirs through gloves.

-"We need to talk, don't we?" they finally admitted.

-"Yes," he replied.

- "About what happened before your deployment…"

-The kiss. A hurried kiss, without thought.

- Lips so soft, erasing the bad news of his deployment and eight long months of silence.

-"I… "

-'Don't say you regret it," he finally said.

-"No, I don't. I mean it. But I don't want it to destroy us."

-"It won't."

-"I know you avoid people, Simon. Attachment."

-"Yes."

-But not them, he thought

- Since the moment his feet led him to that pastry shop. Simon knew he was doomed.

- A stupid cake for Soap's nephew, and he found himself charmed by a baker making incredible scones.

-Simon had become a regular there, a man of habit enjoying the good things, he told himself.

- It was close, he said.

-Close to his shabby apartment, to his gym.

-Just a daily stop for coffee and scones, he reasoned.

- But every morning, his eager eyes searched for their silhouette.

-Their rolls, their belly, their thighs, that smile.

- Every crumb he could get, he took.

-They eventually noticed him.

-A mountain of muscles, hidden by a mask, softened by scones, it wasn't the most discreet.

-They greeted him.

-Always the first customer at dawn.

-In reality, Simon came so early out of military habit but also to avoid the saleswoman.

-Simon desired the baker, not the small, slim saleswoman.

-Slowly, they spoke to him, and everything fell into place.

- They had become his anchor, an anchor in reality.

- A tough mission, and he came to them silently, without needing to place an order, without having to face the crowd, slipping to the back and watching them work.

-No questions, just comfort.

-The smell of sugar, flour, and eggs permeated his clothes in the most exquisite way.

-And now he dreamed of a life where this scent would be constant.

-"I don't want us to drift apart," they said.

-"We won't," he assured them.

-"So, what do we do, Simon?"

-"Kiss me."

-It was a prayer, a barely audible order, a cry for help.

-Slowly his mask fell.

- Their eyes met, hesitant but filled with desire.

-And they kissed him.

- In that dark street, under the pouring rain.

-"Again," he murmured.

-"We have to go back," they said.

- "I don't care about going back," he replied.

- "Simon, you don't want to spend your leave sick."

-"If I stay with you, I do."

-"Idiot."

- "For you."

-Their laughter burst out, and Simon kissed them again to capture it.

-Slowly, they finally arrived at their place.

-Their dog welcomed them, barking happily at Simon. And after eight long months, Simon could finally breathe.

-"I'm home," he murmured.

- "We were waiting for you," they replied.

-Nothing surpassed this feeling, he thought as he kissed them again.

-Simon was a man, and like any man, he had finally found his long-desired home in their arms.

__________

P R I C E

-In an emotionally charged atmosphere, Price let the water flow slowly, carrying away the remnants of blood under his nails.

-After eight long months, he felt like a ship drifting without a course, without a real destination.

-At least that's what he claimed to anyone who would listen, but the ring hanging under his uniform whispered different truths to him.

-Staring at his own reflection, Price read the inscription inside the ring, a name he hadn't uttered in years.

- Like enchanted by a spell whose charm he feared, he hesitated to whisper it again.

-Yet, his heart demanded it.

-He knew it was the longing that drove him.

-Without those eight months, he wouldn't be here, longing desperately to have them back in his arms.

-(It was false; since the divorce was signed, he dreamt of them.)

-Since the day their marriage ended, he had wanted to throw himself at their feet and beg them to come back.

- He desired their warmth, their ridiculous work stories, their cooking, their scent, their fingers, their kisses.

-They were the oasis in the desert of his life, and through negligence, he had let them evaporate.

- It all dated back to before his promotion to captain.

- Back then, he was just a young lieutenant full of ambition, willing to sacrifice anything to obtain that coveted title.

-But the long hours at the office had gradually poisoned his time with them, an absence they had signaled to him, one he had ignored, one he had maintained until everything exploded like a grenade.

-Now, he stood there, on the minefield of his emotional life with a ring they had probably forgotten, longing to hear them say yes once again.

-As he dried himself off, Price settled into his office.

-He told himself it was just simple nostalgia, but the bitter taste of tobacco wasn't enough to distract him, remembering how much they hated that smell. He extinguished his cigar.

-To take his mind off things, he decided to go to the nearest bookstore. A good book would be welcome, he thought.

-"John?"

-That voice, which had haunted him for three years and eight long months of divorce.

-"Y/N."

-It had been so long.

-Too long, he thought, seeing them so different.

- He admired their new haircut, their new clothes. What a lucky man he had been.

-"Yes. Still teaching?"

-"Yes. And you, did you manage to become a captain?"

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched, their eyes avoiding his.

-"But it wasn't worth it," he admitted.

-"Too much work?"

-"Not enough of you"

-"John," they interrupted.

-"I'm not trying to get us back together, far from it. I know it won't happen, but I wanted to be honest with you. I think this divorce has been the biggest failure of my life, and you deserved better than me."

-Hesitantly, they opened their mouth, a mouth he had kissed so many times, one that had shared all their troubles, all their doubts.

-"Thank you, John. But I'm also to blame. I should have told you everything that was going on in my head, everything that wasn't right."

-"You couldn't, when all I listened to were orders."

-"Maybe…"

-"Good person, wrong time, it seems."

-"Nothing prevents us from correcting the timing, right?"

-John raised an eyebrow.

-"It doesn't mean we have to start all over, but… you've been a pillar in my life, John. I missed you. Whether as friends or more, it doesn't matter."

-"Thank you, love," John murmured.

-They approached him, and during this long absence, John could finally feel human warmth again.

-To just be John again, not Captain Price.

-Their hands wrapped around each other.

-They both knew it wouldn't be purely platonic, but like a suspended promise, for now, they would stick to it, hoping that one day the rings would find their respective places again.

-Theirs from their drawer to their finger, and his from his neck to his hand.

-"I missed you."

-"You too. Tell me what I've missed."

-And John could only smile.

-If these eight months of hell, these three years of desert led him back to them, then it was worth it, he decided.

- So when he packed for his next return, the soldiers watched him curiously because for once the captain had a home where he really wanted to be.

_________

S O A P

-Immersed in an ocean of turmoil, Soap returned after eight months of absence, longing to celebrate his return with his family.

-His thoughts, drowned in alcohol and his mother's reprimands, were rocked by the cheery laughter of his nephews and nieces.

-Between the urge to scream and the desire to simply savor their presence, he oscillated.

-When the festivities finally came to an end, he could finally breathe.

-Eight months.

- Alone in his flat, memories flooded in, evoking strategies, bombs, deafening tumult, and lingering smells.

-Everything was an attempt at distraction; the television, the rain, a run, a cup of tea, messages on his mobile.

-He longed for something, even if he didn't know exactly what.

-But it was missing, creeping under his skin little by little, scratching at the door of his mind.

-"Again, really?'

-His eyes fell on his neighbour.

-The same one who had endured his screams at three in the morning, his hurried departures on missions, his heavy suitcases dragged at seven in the morning.

- And now, at four o'clock, they stood before him, a mischievous gleam in their eyes, the result of an incident involving dumbbells in his hands.

-"Sorry.", he apologized.

-"I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

-"On purpose…? "He raised an eyebrow.

-"So that we see each other. You know, like in those cliché romances where the noisy neighbour ends up seducin' the complainin' neighbour."

-Incredulous, he couldn't help but laugh.

-"Ye wouldn't need that."

-A teasing smile stretched across his neighbour's lips.

-"I know. But you seem to need it. Not an adventure, but a distraction."

-They referred to the dumbbells.

-"Aye."

-"I make cookies." they said.

-"At 4 a.m.?"

-"I know how to keep myself busy in silence."

-"…"

-"Interested?" they asked.

-The latent feeling under Soap's skin resurfaced.

-He nodded and followed them. And then he realized.

-The warm atmosphere, the decor, the unstacked dishes, the soft carpets.

-That's what he had missed, a heaven of peace.

-"They won't be the best cookies in the world, but they'll do."

-"Ah'm good at it." he said.

-"Pastry chef?"

-"Military."

-"Hm, that explains a lot. "They gave him a complicit look.

-"Like what?" Soap asked.

-"This horrible haircut."

Laughter erupted in the kitchen.

-"Ma haircut is incredible."

-"For a 6-year-old."

-"Ah look handsome with it."

-"Even without it."they said.

-"Good at flirtin'?"he asked.

-"With the right person, yes."

-Soap smiled.

-"Ye would be bonnie with a mohawk."

-"No thanks. But, well, I understand the muscles and the irregular movements now."

-"Aye, Ah don't choose my hours."

-Too bad, you'd think criminals can't be punctual, huh? "they joked.

-He smiled.

-"Exactly."

-Hands in the dough, Soap couldn't help but let his gaze drift over his neighbour's curves.

-He admitted that sometimes his door slammed a little louder in the hope of catching a glimpse of them, like a good luck charm before a mission.

-Curves he longed to explore, letting the eight long months fade from his memory to be replaced by love for them.

-"Ah should hae made more noise if it means havin' cookies."

-His neighbour smiled.

-"Maybe. I was worried about this silence, you know."

Soap felt touched by their concern.

-"Ah'm sorry."

-"Don't apologize, you didn't decide on that. It's just… maybe I could give you my number? If you ever have plants or stuff like that, I'll take care of them."

-"Okay." he acquiesced.

-He took the paper feverishly, keeping it as a precious treasure, and continued cooking.

-At the end of that day, returning home, Soap could finally close his eyes.

-The creeping feeling had come to an end.

-That longing, that emptiness, it was them, the sound of a life together.

-He brushed the paper, a smile on his lips.

-Getting up, he decided to drop a dumbbell loudly.

- A noise at his door rang out, and he smiled. Nothing was worth his neighbour.

-So slowly he opened the door, and dinner followed to apologize.

-Then another to repay.

-And slowly, they erased from his mind the eight long months that had haunted him.

G A Z

-After eight long months of absence, Gaz finally found a moment of respite in his humble accommodation on the base.

-The deafening noises of the base's incessant activity, the hurried faces, the soldiers' rushed departures, everything seemed to dissolve into a chaos filling his ears.

-Everything seemed to fade away as soon as he could cross the threshold of his room.

-Here, in this haven of tranquility, he could finally silence the external turmoil.

-His pulse slightly quickened as he reached for his phone, his fingers instinctively finding his favorite contact: them.

- He felt this visceral need to reassure them, to feel their presence through the voice that was so dear to him.

-In this suspended moment, he longed to hear nothing but their soothing breath, to lose himself in their tender words.

-His ears buzzed, every beep deafening his eardrums and…

-"Hello?"

-"Y/N," he murmured, relieved and tender.

-The echo of their voice provided him with a welcome comfort, a balm for his weary soul.

-"Kyle. Back among us?"

-"Yes, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you."

-"No, I'm on break. I have a shift tonight."

-A silence stretched.

-"Is everything alright?"

-Kyle hesitated before speaking.

-Is everything alright? The blood, the bruises, the cries, the deaths… Everything seemed to still be on his skin, vivid in his mind.

-"I don't know," he admitted.

-"You didn't break an arm, did you?"

-Kyle smiled at the memory.

-After a rough mission he had rushed to his flat ignoring the pain in his arm and the medics.

-Yet he ended up to E.R days later with a blue arm and broken bone.

-Y/n was one of the nurse who was in charge of him and his cast, they kept contact.

-"No, I don't know how I managed to cope without hearing from you."

-"Charming," they laughed at his attempt at flirting.

-"Maybe."

-"More seriously?"

-"Tired," he admitted.

-"I would tell you to sleep, but I imagine you don't want to."

-"I can't."

-Not when he knew the nightmares awaiting him.

-"…I finish at 1am, if ever. I'm not implying anything, I know your base is super far, but I know that company can help."

-"Hmm, I don't know, will there be food?"

-"My company isn't enough for you, Kyle?" they joked.

-"I fear not."

-"Damn," they exclaimed, laughing.

-Ah, there it was.

-A tender smile stretched across Gaz's lips.

- In this exchange, he found comfort, a precious connection.

-His body relaxed slightly.

-"I missed you," they confessed.

-"You too."

-"You know, I bought those awful biscuits you talked about so much, hoping you'd come eat them at my place."

-"I'll take it as a declaration at this rate."

-"Shut up, I know you'd never buy them because 'no time'."

-"I like speed."

-"Even in bed?"

-A mischievous smile formed on his lips.

-"That's for you to find out."

-"You always say that."

-"I mean it."

-"About?"

-"Us."

-"Kyle…"

-"I know, after eight months of absence, it might just be the longing speaking, but… the only thing I wanted was you. Coming back to you, holding you in my arms, making you laugh one last time. And… staying friends… it's worse."

-"Worse than eight months without me?" -"Yes."

-"You're horrible for doing this."

-"I know."

-"At a distance, over the phone. I can't… I can't guess anything."

-"I guess I'm a coward."

-"Shut up, I… I swear I'm going to hit you and then kiss you."

-"Kiss me?"

-"Of course, do you really think I answer all your calls at any time out of friendship?"

-"Y/N…"

-"Last time there was an eight-hour time difference."

-"You told me…"

-"That there were only two, yes, because… I didn't want you to worry. You're a stubborn idiot always thinking of others, so I wanted to be selfish for once that you are."

-"I am. I want you, Y/n."

-"Then come get me."

-Kyle smiled and hung up.

- In his car, stress, fear, adrenaline surged. But for once, the enemy wasn't to be fought.

-Once in front of the hospital, hours of driving later, he stood at the entrance and saw them come out.

-Their name spoken from their lips, and he embraced them.

-"Never again," they whispered.

-"I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

-"I swear I'll kick Price's ass if he does that again."

-"I'll help you."

-"Promise?"

-"Promise."

-And he kissed them.

-Suddenly the eight long months evaporated on Y/n's couch, his fingers sliding through their hair, and his lips on theirs.

-The silence returned and Kyle could finally breathe.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Ghost & König x Plus-Size Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Implied/meantioned smut, some 18+ content (vague), bodily insecurities mentioned, fluff, a whole lot of love, two men being so down bad for you that it's no laughing matter, implied physical assault (not on Reader), Fem Reader, Jealous Ghost is implied, Jealous Konig (for different reasons)

Ghost:

He is absolutely, indisputebly, so atrociously down bad for you.

He seriously can never get enough of you.

If you were EVER insecure about any part of you, and he found out about it, he'd just give you a look of pure confusion.

What do you mean your thighs make you sad sometimes??

They don't make him sad.

On the contrary, they bring him nothing but joy!

Especially when they're wrapped around his head.

Seriously though, he loves you regardless of your size, shape, weight, etc.

Loves cuddling you because you're always so warm.

Calls you his "perfect pocket heater." Usually rasping it in your ear when he's pressed up behind you in bed during the winter months.

Whenever he's called back on duty, he says he wishes he could just pack you into his bag and take you with him to keep him company (and warm).

His other nickname for you is "Muffin" (you'll see why later).

Loves squeezing you.

And cuddling you.

Anywhere and everywhere.

Wherever there is skin to grab and hold, by god, he'll hold it.

He doesn't poke or squeeze you in ways that can be construed as teasing, though, especially if you're self-conscious about yourself.

And if by some sheer act of ignorance or cruelty somebody else makes you feel bad about your weight.

💀

Next time you see them, they're an assault statistic on the evening news, one who is in "critical condition", at that.

Ghost loves having you on top of him btw.

Regardless of the intent, whether sexual or not, he loves feeling your weight on him.

It grounds him.

Reminds him that you're here, that you're real. That Ghost is capable of love and is allowed to be happy.

Also, quick note, Ghost ADORES seeing you in stockings.

Loves how the elastic squeezes your thighs and makes them spill over the fabric.

He always calls them his "little muffins".

He thinks it makes you look even more beautiful (if that's possible).

He's had to reprimand some of his colleagues for staring at you.

Though, he can't blame them: they all know you're gorgeous.

Feels like it would be a crime not to watch you.

Like visiting every other painting in a gallery except the Mona Lisa.

König:

Man is huge and built like a bear, but the second you sit on his lap, his spirit is GONE.

He loves when you lay in his arms like The Pietà; makes him feel strong. Trusted.

His favourite thing about you is your waist.

He just can't stop looking at it.

He loves the shape.

Is fascinated by it, watching it change shape slightly when you sit down.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"How...How does it do that (perform basic biology)?"

Truly, the female body is an enigma to König.

Though yours is not.

Like Ghost, he will grab onto any skin, fold and crevice he can get his hands onto (or into).

Worries if he's too big for you sometimes (in more ways than one) :-(

He lives for the weight of you on his thighs when you ride him.

Makes him feel secure, like he's paper and you're the paperweight.

And it makes him feel dependable 💪.

Also feels safe whenever he gets to play with your hands.

Loves your skin so much.

The texture, the veins, the wrinkles, the stretch marks; he goes feral for everything that is you.

You compare proportions sometimes.

König is strangely competitive when it comes to his thighs.

If you have bigger thighs than him, you're going to have to reassure him that yes, he is still your big bear, and yes, he is still very handsome. And yes, of course he's not too weak for you.

Proves it via the aforementioned riding sessions.

Is your #1 fan.

No dispute.

Oh, btw, if you wear any kind of leather or latex around him, he's hard until you take it off (or he takes it off you).

He just can't handle your silhouette.

Just does something to a man.

This man in particular.

That memory will haunt him in the best possible way for as long as tiem exists.

Proves kind of troublesome during missions though ngl.

You know, during times when König really needs to not be hard.

Would hammer anyone into the ground who made you feel insecure about yourself.

"König...when did you buy those red gloves?"

König, looking down at his blood-drenched hands: "Uhh...last week at the market?"

His nickname for you is "Cake."

Short and sweet. Just like you.

Unless you're tall. In that case tall and sweet lmao.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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ponyosmom35 · 4 months

Text

birthdays

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter thirty three

synopsis: reader celebrates Simon's birthday, refusing to let him ignore his day.

Liability series

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as Simon awoke to find himself alone in his apartment. It was his birthday, a day he had become accustomed to treating like any other—without fanfare or celebration, as there were no family or close friends to share it with.

As he wandered into the kitchen, expecting just another ordinary day, hoping to get through it as painlessly as possible. Simon was met with a heartwarming surprise. She was adorning the room with colorful balloons and carefully setting up a beautifully decorated cake on the table.

Simon couldn't help but stare, a mixture of confusion and delight playing on his features. "love, what's going on here?" he asked, a touch of panic in his voice.

Turning around with a beaming smile, she exclaimed, "Happy birthday, Si!"

His eyes widened as he took in the sight. Balloons of all hues danced in the air, and the aroma of the freshly baked cake filled the room. Simon felt a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to find words.

"love, I... I didn't expect..." he began, the vulnerability in his voice apparent.

She, sensed his emotions, cut him off with a surprised yelp. "I wanted your day to be special, Si."

As the realization sank in, Simon's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Thank you, baby," he managed to say, the weight of her gesture lifting the familiar darkness that shrouded his birthdays.

She approached him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "You deserve all the happiness today and every day. So my first gift to you is that I am all yours all day, whatever you want to do, we do!"

Touched by her understanding and kindness, Simon nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She encouraged him to unwrap his gifts, each one carefully chosen to reflect his interests and passions.

The first package revealed a soft, stylish sweater. "I thought you might like something cozy, the winters here can be rough" she said, a twinkle in her eye.

Next came a set of sleek cooking knives and a 'kiss the chef' apron. "For your culinary adventures," she remarked, knowing how much he loved to cook.

A pair of high-quality running shoes followed, acknowledging his commitment to staying fit. "I saw your running shoes and noticed how sad they looked, so I did some research and saw a lot of really good reviews. So you’ll have to try them out and let me know if they work" she added with a playful grin.

As the gifts continued, Simon's heart swelled with love. A massive package of his favorite Oreos, a fancy bottle of olive oil, and a handcrafted crochet blanket for the cold nights on base—all thoughtful reminders of her consideration and care.

The final gift brought a blush to Simon's cheeks as he discovered intimate Polaroid pictures of her. "A little something personal," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"love, these are... wow," Simon stammered, both surprised and touched.

She smiled lovingly. "Happy birthday baby!"

She grabs his arm and stands on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. In that moment, surrounded by love and thoughtful gestures. He was unsure how to react, never seeming to be able to find the words to express how much it meant to him. As he looked down at her she smiles “I know”

She responds, as if she could read his thoughts. Confirming that he didn’t need to say anything. He picks her up and sets her on the counter, he kisses her gently and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “So you said we can do anything I want?”

“I did yes”

“Lets play a game” he murmurs against her lips

“What is it?”

“Simon says” he smirks

stay tuned for part two, simon says (18+)

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hayleybarnesx · 1 month

Text

18+ minors do not enter.

Cw, light topics of humiliation, throat fucking, possessive behaviour, cervix fucking (?), light bruising/marking, chocking, degradation, face fucking, mention of belt punishment at the end, orgasm control. (Let me know if I need to add more.)

Alright I know I say In almost all my writing that Simon isn’t a hard dom type BUT let me just ignore that for a second and let’s imagine he is.

Like, princess treatment in the streets, whore treatment in the sheets. (consensually)

He would be cruel, degrading and borderline humiliating to you. reminding you about every little mistake you made, even by doing something as simple as looking at another man for a moment too long or smiling just a little too wide for his liking.

His cock bringing out the sweetest little moans and cries of pleasure as your body aches and jumps with his movements.

Your mouth is dry and swallowing is hard, your throat fucked raw feeling like it has been clawed from the inside. His sticky cum being fucked down your throat, his rough hands planted firmly on each side of your face, working you down his full length until you were moaning like a whore around him.

His cock piercing into the tip of your cervix, pushing against it and causing throbbing fiery pain waves over your whole body.

His fingers dig in your hip bones, rings of light colour bruises left where his prodding hands were. Cooing In your ear as your body falls into his, too tired to hold yourself up anymore.

His hand coiled tightly around your throat, squeezing for a few beats before releasing- then repeating. Your eyes were rolling into you skull. He would hold your neck firmly and your head would feel lighter and more floaty, then he would release and all your senses came back.

You could barely hear your moans and grunts of pleasure through how cock drunk you were right now. His cock reaching places your toys or fingers wouldn’t go near. His face covered in his sweet girls juice, licking every drop from your plush thighs and sucking from the source itself.

And if you’ve been particularly bad? Get ready for the belt. And if you think those gorgeous little fingers are going anywhere near that sweet cunt when you haven’t listened properly then you are massively mistaken, sweet girl. Watch him slowly jerk himself off to the desperation on your face, your nipples so tight even a small kitten lick would have you gasping. Maybe that will teach you to behave. Hmm?

His perfect little slut, taking his cock like the good girl you are. <3

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rottingflowrs · 3 months

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GHOST BEAT TO THIS ONE

#ghost x you #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x plus size reader #ghost x y/n #c:simon ‘ghost’ riley

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reallyobessedwithyou · 4 months

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irl i feel like john price and simon riley like thicker girls. (they might not we’ll never know but i just like this HC a lot, bc i’m a smaller thicker girl.) him and simon give off that vibe and idk what it is. i might be wrong and people prolly disagree but you can’t tell me they don’t like a little chub??? i just get that vibe from them and idk why. like price will go to town between ur thick thighs for HOURS bro, simon would lose his shit if anyone body shamed you and he’d protect you with his life, price would worship your body like it was a master piece???? you cannot tell me other wise. (u can but i won’t listen.) anyways have a wonderful day.

#cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #price #captain john price smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon #ghost cod #simon riley x plus size reader

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agirlsrage · 3 months

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Ghost loves big girls. I'm not sorry for speaking the truth.

#simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x plus size reader #ghost mwii

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 7 months

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Your Husband Simon "Ghost" Riley (Scenario)

Credits to the creator of the photo @ave661, ugh the ghost pictures just keep getting me. She's too good at what she does. The photo is in this post.

(Chubby reader kinda???)

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

I've been thinking about what touch starved husband Simon "Ghost" Riley would be like;

Your husband Simon Riley who is always desperate to come home to you, every minute he spends in deployment is an eternity away from you.

Your husband Simon Riley who likes being held, him sprawled across the bed on top of you, head on your chest while you play with his hair. His muscular arms wrapped around you tightly, letting out soft moans at the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp. He taps on you whenever you stop so you could continue and groans when you giggle, knowing damn well you were teasing him.

"Lovie, stop teasing.."

"But Si.."

"Stop giggling-"

Your husband Simon Riley who loves it when you trace his tattoos with your nails, he's grown accustomed to the feeling. He doesn't even wait for you, he just asks you to do so. Rolling his sleeve up and letting out a short deep chuckle.

Your husband Simon Riley who's in love with the way you look at him, he doesn't notice it but his pupils dilate when looking at you.

Your husband Simon Riley who loves hugging you from behind, looking from over your shoulder to see what you were doing. "What are you up to lovie..?" He whispers, lips finding the top of your head.

Your husband Simon Riley who absolutely loves lifting you up to reach things, hoisting you up by your plump hips, so much so that he purposefully placing things high up on the shelves.

"Come on now Mrs. Riley, up you go"

"Simon..!"

Your husband Simon Riley who sometimes keeps the mask on, it melts your heart everytime you see his eyes squint from almost smiling ear to ear. He doesn't have to tell you that it's because of you, but you know.

Your husband Simon Riley who is still living in the honeymoon phase, definitely abusing his power to be able to call you his wife to almost anyone he talks to. Boasts about anything and everything about you, often makes jokes about how he loves you.

Your husband Simon Riley who finds any excuse to touch and hold you, everything feels so natural with him. Loves peppering kisses on your neck just to get a squeal and giggles from you. Especially in the bedroom, your pleasure is his priority.

Dad!Ghost x Wife!Reader drabble :)

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod headcanons #cod scenarios #cod mwf2 #cod mwii #ghost x plus size reader #simon riley x plus size reader #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 7 months

Text

.⋆｡Morning Voice｡⋆.

König x plus size reader

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Just imagine their morning voices

Warnings: Lou is thirsty again, implied smut, secret relationship, mutual pinning, injuries, fluff, little angst, itty bitty bit of smut, might be ooc König, mention of stitches

WC: 970

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

König

It was the voices that woke you up. They were muffled behind the door to your private room but just loud enough to rouse you from a surprisingly restful sleep. You blinked your eyes open but the warmth that surrounded you and the heavy weight across your soft stomach urged you back to sleep.

Just as your eyelids fluttered shut once more, a thought occurred to you. You shuffled backwards just slightly and your ass came into contact with something hard and teasingly hot. There came a deep groan from above your head and the weight around your stomach tightened, drawing you even further back into them.

“Stop moving, liebling.” (darling) His voice rumbled through you like an earthquake, shaking you down to your core. It was breathy but not weak, no, you could hear its power waiting just below the surface. The German rolled off his tongue in a way that made your eyes roll back into your head.

“König.” You whimpered. “You have to go, they’ll find out.” But you made no effort to pull away from his protective hold, in fact you snuggled back into the colonel, putting your right hand on top of his own much larger one.

He laughed softly into your hair before planting a kiss to the crown of your head. “I think you would rather me stay spatzi.” (little sparrow) Long fingers danced down your plump stomach, drawing closer and closer to your core. “I think you need me right here.”

You gasped as he finally cupped your mound, the butt of his hand brushing against your overworked clit. “König.” You bit your lip, trying to keep your voice down.

“That seems to be all you can say this morning.” He teased and rolled his hips into your ass, forcing his hardening length between her cheeks. “How about I make you scream it?”

Ghost

The words on the report in front of you had stopped making sense about 2 paragraphs ago but you continued your attempt at reading the action report just to distract from the sight only a few feet away from you. The room was silent save for the quiet beeping of the heart monitor and the almost deafening sound of your own breathing.

With a groan, you threw the folder of papers onto your cluttered desk and looked back up to the bed in front of you.

He was only wearing a tight black shirt and tan cargo pants but you had insisted that the old skull balaclava remain firmly on his head. His wide chest rose and fell consistently, giving you peace of mind even as your hands still burned from stitching up so much of his body and the smell of blood still overpowered that hospital smell you had grown so used to.

He looked so small laying on the infirmary cot, his normally overwhelming presence now dwindling down to an ember and it broke your heart. Not because you were in love with the man! You cared out of professional obligation given you were the only doctor for the 141.

As the clock struck 3 am, you stood up from your desk and approached the bed. You told yourself that you were just going to check his stitches but you never even touched his bandages. Instead you sat on the rickety folding chair that Gaz had found in one of the broom closets.

Simon’s hand was devastatingly cold as you took it into your own. You cradled his palm, tracing over the various silvery lines of scars with your fingertips. Exhaustion hit you all at once and you couldn’t help but slump over the huge man, your head coming to rest on his thick thigh. “Only for a second,” You muttered, “Just need to rest my eyes.”

His whole body ached as Simon slowly slipped back into consciousness. His mouth was dry and parts of his skin felt stretched to its limits. But as he opened his eyes, all of that faded away. You were dead asleep on his lap, holding his hand as small snores escaped your lips.

He tutted at the huge dark bags beneath your eyes and he vaguely wondered how long you had been awake for. With his other hand, he cupped your head, marvelling at the way that he almost covered your whole head. You grunted softly and nuzzled into his touch.

Simon would love to let you keep sleeping especially since you were using him as a pillow but your neck was at a weird angle and he didn’t imagine that the metal folding chair you were sitting on was particularly comfortable.

So with a considerable amount of hesitation, he spoke up. “Doc.” His voice was broken and husky, just barely louder than the machines attached to him. Your brows scrunched and you burrowed further into his thigh, clutching his left hand even tighter.

He smiled beneath his balaclava.

Pain ripped through his body as Simon bent forward. He slipped his hand from your hold carefully in order to slip them both under your armpits. You were a dead weight in his arms, exacerbating the tight stitches on his sides but he still pulled you up easily, laying your soft body down between his legs.

Your head fell to his shoulder, nose immediately pushing against his throat. “Si?” You asked sleepily, attempting to sit up but a hand on your shoulder and another one on your wide hip prevented you from moving.

“Go back to sleep doc, I’ll still be hurt in the morning.” Heat crawled up your neck with the deepness of his voice and you found yourself unable to disagree, even though you were probably causing him even more pain. You nodded against his skin and Simon squeezed your hip gently. “That’s my good girl.” He purred.

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rainybubbles · 2 months

Text

10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

---------------------

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x plus size reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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lxvvie · 25 days

Text

Couples Shit with Simon Riley (Part 2):

Having a giggle/chuckle fest almost every time you are intimate. It first happened at the beginning of your relationship when you would giggle every time you two kissed. It opened the floodgates, had let that nervous energy out, and Simon was right there chuckling with you. ("Heh—aw, fuck me.")

Swearing up and down that you're gonna fuck each other's brains out but as soon as you hit the bed, you and Simon are out like a light. The last time this happened, he was supposed to go down on you, but the next thing you know, you woke up to him fast asleep with his head on your stomach.

Kissing the bridge of his crooked nose and Simon turning into putty every time. Hell, kissing any and every dent, bruise, and scar, and making your man melt.

A nice round of horizontal tango turning into a cuddle session after you comforted Simon through a charley horse. Poor baby.

Initially making the telly watch you two make sex but turns out whatever you're watching was pretty decent after all so you guys are back to watching the telly again.

Getting hot and heavy one time but you were so intrigued with the mole you discovered on Simon's inner thigh that you spent the next half-hour or so trying to find other moles on his body.

Telling Simon that you "always wanted to do this" and when you get him hot, bothered, and hard, it turns out what you always wanted to do was measure him. His disappointment was immeasurable... even if he was interested to know the number.

Twinning in some way, shape, or fashion whenever you're out together.

Talking mad shit about his snoring but let him tell it, he doesn't say shit when you take up about 80% of the bed, covers, and sleep under him.

Speaking of talking shit, having disagreements like every couple does and when you go to bed, you're angrily cuddling each other. And yes, Simon still wants your kisses in the morning, even if you two are still mad at each other. Simon doesn't give a shit, you're still gonna love on him, dammit. And him on you.

Being mad with Simon when he arrived too late to get the creepy crawler that was harassing you. Harassing you by doing what it does best: be a creepy crawler. Simon tells you you'll have to conquer your fear one day. You tell him to conquer the couch tonight lmao.

Agreeing to disagree about the superior ice cream flavor in the house. It's too bad there's not any of his favorite ice cream in the freezer. There's some of yours, though. Why? You didn't get any because it was so superior that you wouldn't "dare sully it with your hands". Cue the judgemental stare and him eating YOUR ice cream afterward. Rude.

Scaring the ever-living shit out of Simon on the rare occasions he gets to sleep in. He woke up to you sitting up in bed with his mask and paint on. Oh, and he calls bullshit. He did not nearly fall out the bed. Nor did he jump. Okay, Simon.

Chilling and drinking with Simon. Finding out he gets hot and sweaty pretty easily and off comes his clothes. Waking up hungover the next morning and you're the big spoon to a naked and equally hungover Simon. Choosing to do fuck all but sleep it off that day.

Playfully calling or referring to him as the Missus, especially in front of your co-workers. When they finally meet Simon and ask him who he is, he replies in pure deadpan Ghost fashion: "The Missus".

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swordsandholly · 13 days

Text

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

��Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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ponyosmom35 · 4 months

Text

family

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter thirty

synopsis: simon is meeting readers family for the first time. he's been keeping a secret from her, worried about how she might react.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of PTSD

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

He hasn’t done a good job of keeping his nerves under control. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants for the third time as his mind goes over everything that could possibly go wrong. The idea of meeting her family terrifies him. What if they don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like them? He knew a lot about her childhood and how she always felt that Emma was prioritized, he’d seen first hand how it affected her to this day. Of course he’d been told how close the family had become after the tragic passing of the eldest daughter. He was happy they were able to resolve their differences and come together.

Above all he was well aware that a massive secret he’d kept from her was about to come out. His stomach rolled at the thought, he felt as though he could throw up. The truth was that tonights dinner would not be the first time he’d met her parents. After Emma died, Simon and Price flew to the states and presented her family with an American flag, and sat down with them to explain what happened. This was something he’d done in the past, however it being her older sister made the task nearly unbearable. But he knew it was his responsibility. He was terrified that her parents were going to hate him due to his face being there to tell them their daughter was dead. The worst day of their lives, and he was the face of the person who ruined their family. Simon had no idea how she would react. Would she be upset at him for keeping this from her? Would it bring up the past and trigger her PTSD?

He’d tried to cancel, but he could only use so many excuses. He knew that this needed to happen. He couldn't avoid her family for the rest of their lives, especially when he planned to spend the rest of his life with her.

She notices his unease after she looks over at him to sing along to one of their favorite songs. She frowns as she could see the anxiety coming from him. She reaches to his hand which was placed on the gear shift and rubs his skin gently.

He instantly relaxes when he feels her touch. Her warmth, her tenderness, is just what he needed to calm down and remember that things will be fine. As he focuses on her and their journey he feels a sense of relief wash over him.

“They’re gonna love you” she promises

He sighs, this time feeling much better about things. He turns his head and looks at her with a smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so”

“What if I say the wrong thing?”

“You won’t”

“If they ask about work?”

“They know how we met, they aren’t aware of the details obviously but they know that you worked with me on base, and they know that the rest is classified. Why are you so worried about this? Simon they already love you”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been talking about you nonstop for the past year, they are well aware how much I love you” she explains.

He leans in close to her as he stops at a red light. He presses his lips to her forehead and closes his eyes. “Thank you baby”

“It’s just this house on the right” she points out, he pulls into the driveway and turns of the ignition, staring at her.

“I have something to tell you” he admits

“What?”

“This isn’t the first time-”

“There she is!” her mother calls out from the porch, she runs over to the passenger side door and opens it, welcoming her daughter in a hug.

Simon gets out of the truck and walks to where they were standing. He bows his head slightly as her father embraces her. She turns to introduce him to her parents when she notices their wide eyes staring at him. Her mother begins to tear up and she frowns.

“Mom? whats wrong?” she asks in concern

“Simon, I’m so happy to see you again” she says placing a gentle hand on his face, he smiles and she hugs him. Her mouth falls open in shock and she tries to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Been too long son, how are you?” her dad says, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

“Been well mate”

“I’m sorry, does anyone wanna tell me how you know each other?” she asks

“He didn’ tell you?” her mom asks as she pulls away from him

“Tell me what?” she asks, turning to him.

“Price and I brought the flag home to your parents after Emma” he admits

“What?” she asks

“Honey he’s been sending flowers every month for the grave” her mom adds

“You have?” she asks looking up at him with tears filling her eyes as her lips begin to tremble. Simon internally panics and places a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you”

“Why did you do that?”

“For Emma” he answers

She is unable to hold back her tears and he gently wipes them, holding her jaw in his hands. “I’m sorry love”

“Thank you for taking care of her” she answers

“Always”

She looks over to her mother who’s wiping her tears as well. Simon wraps his arm around her and kisses her forehead.

“Now that I’ve made everyone cry, should we get inside?” he asks. The three broken hearted family members laugh and lead him inside the house.

“Simon I made fish and chips, fresh halibut from our trip this morning” her dad states, wrapping his arm around Simon’s shoulder.

“Sounds delicious mate”

“Well we wanted to treat you, y/n mentioned that it was your favorite meal”

“Thank you guys”

“Its the least we could do, thank you for taking such good care of our daughters. We’re so lucky to have you in the family” her mom says as she leads them into the kitchen.

Simon pauses at the words, he smiles and swallows the lump in his throat. Family. A word he’d tried to hard to run from. A word that used to tear him to pieces. He swore to himself he’d never allow people to get close to him in order to prevent a similar fate to his family. He tried to fight it. But after a while he realized that the only thing he was protecting himself from was love. He’d been so miserable before she came into his life, he was a walking corpse. Living for the job and the violence.

Now Simon Ghost Riley was sat at the dinner table with the woman he loved and her parents. This was his family. He would never let anything happen to them.

Tag list:@vivi123abc

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