#simon said it himself: they’re a family

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon hadn’t been this nervous since his baby girl was born nearly two years ago now. His palms were sweating as he glanced over at his daughter, who was waiting with excitement by the window.

“Are you okay, Si?” You asked, flashing your husband a warm smile, before wiping down the kitchen table for the fifth time that afternoon. “You seem nervous.”

“Think we both are.” Simon gave you a half smile, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of his precious family. “Just nervous for the boys to finally meet my girls.”

You walked over to him, and were about to press a reassuring kiss to his lips before the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of your guests.

Your daughter squealed with excitement, and ran to open the door, her little arms barely able to reach the handle. “Daddy! They’re here!”

The door swung open revealing the 141 boys, each of them wearing matching smiles. Your daughter beamed up at them, and each of the men noted how similar she looked to her father.

The boys filed in, and it took all of a few seconds before your daughter was chatting away, clearly very excited to be meeting her daddy’s friends.

She had Johnny and Kyle’s full attention, showing them her newest collection of toys her daddy bought her, while John made his way over to you.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Riley.” John smiled, politely pressing a kiss to your cheek. He extended his hands to you, revealing a bouquet of flowers. “I would’ve insisted on meeting you sooner, but your husband has done an impeccable job of keeping you and the little one a secret from us.”

Simon wore a proud smile as he watched the encounter, suddenly very much liking you being referred to as “Mrs. Riley”. “For good reason, didn’t want to put them at risk.”

“Nonsense, Simon. I’m so happy to meet all of you. It’s about time I’ve met the men who my husband trusts with his life.” You waived away your husband’s concerns, prompting John to chuckle. “I’m glad you all could make it tonight. These flowers are beautiful by the way, thank you!”

Johnny and Kyle eventually made their way over, each of them greeting you with bone crushing hugs.

“Daddy! Uncle Johnny said that he’d babysit me one day!” Your daughter exclaimed, moving to hang onto Johnnys leg tightly.

“Did he now?” Simon asked, quirking a brow as he looked in Johnnys direction. “Uncle Johnny, eh?”

“Thought it was fitting, no?” Johnny laughed, petting your daughter’s head playfully. “Gotta say, L.T, she’s a spitting image of you.”

Simon felt a flush rise to his cheeks, the sentiment causing a warmth to spread through his bones. “I’d say she’s got her mother’s looks.”

When dinner rolled around, your daughter insisted on sitting in between her uncle Johnny and Kyle, relishing in all the stories they could tell her about her daddy.

You took note of the permanent smile etched onto Simon’s lips- though he was relatively quiet you could tell that he was enjoying himself. You only wished you had done this sooner.

As he looked around the room, Simon felt his heart flutter as laughter filled the air. Any nervousness he had felt before was gone, and Simon felt undeniably happy. He had everybody he loved and cared about, finally under one roof.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: not super happy with this one- so planning on doing another version shortly☺️❤️ (ideas are welcome!!)

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

[ragingbookdragon]

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #cod imagines #cod imagine #cod #call of duty imagines #call of duty imagine #call of duty #price #captain price #john soap mactavish #soap #kyle gaz garrick #gaz

[heritageposts]

A Jewish prayer shawl worn by Levi Simon, a British man fighting for the Israeli army in Gaza who filmed himself rummaging through women’s underwear in an abandoned Palestinian home, belonged to a celebrated Holocaust survivor who warned of the dangers of hatred and racism. Social media footage posted in November shows Simon wearing the shawl, known as a tallit, in a building in Gaza. “This tallit I am wearing belonged to a Holocaust survivor by the name of Zigi. I am right now inside of Gaza writing ‘Am Yisrael Chai’ to make sure nothing like this will ever happen again,” Simon says in the clip, drawing a Star of David and writing the Hebrew phrase meaning “the people of Israel live” on the wall. According to the accompanying text, the tallit was donated by the family of Zigi Shipper, a survivor of Auschwitz-Birkenau and other Nazi camps from Lodz, Poland, who moved to the UK after the Second World War and died last January aged 93. But a close friend and fellow survivor told Middle East Eye he believed Shipper would have been "astounded and upset" to learn of the way in which his tallit had been used in Gaza. “He would have been as heartbroken as I am because neither of us imagined anything like that would be witnessed by us,” Manfred Goldberg, who met Shipper in 1944 when both were working as slave labourers at a camp in modern-day Poland, told MEE. Asked whether he would have been concerned by the conduct of Israeli forces, Goldberg added: “How can you ask such a question? Who is not upset? Zigi was a very outspoken person. He made a lot more noise than I did. He would have been beside himself.” [...] “Zigi and I had an unbreakable bond because of our experience in the camps. I know him better than I know more or less any person on earth,” said Goldberg. In his later life, Shipper was renowned for his decades of work promoting awareness of the Holocaust in countless talks to schoolchildren and through media interviews. In 2017, he was among 112 Holocaust survivors whose testimonies were recorded as part of a United Kingdom Holocaust Memorial project. “I want young people to know, especially young people, what happened because of racism and most importantly, hatred,” Shipper has been quoted as saying by the Holocaust Memorial Day Trust.

and, more on what simon has been posting . . .

In one clip, Simon waves an Israeli flag in a school where, he says, “they teach terrorism”, adding: “We’re here, we’re here to stay, we’re not going to take your terror, and they’re going to start teaching Hebrew in this school soon." In another clip, he says he is going through “terrorist houses” looking for guns and explosives and then opens a drawer and starts pulling out and displaying women’s underwear, which he describes as "exotic lingerie".

. . . full article on MEE (26 Jan 2024)

#palestine #israel #gaza

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THANK YOU FOR THIS #i could go on for hours ;; #gladiator au #gladiator!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[ghcstao3]

ghost doesn’t talk about his family. he just… doesn’t. maybe he doesn’t feel a need for it, maybe it’s to keep that part of his life private (which would be understandable, if soap didn’t already know every other part of his life), or maybe… maybe there are other reasons.

so when ghost asks soap if he’d like to meet them, soap feels that he’s understandably nervous.

it’s a long enough drive from ghost’s flat. there isn’t much indication as to where he plans to go, how long he plans on driving—and it certainly doesn’t help that soap is unfamiliar with the region. but he can’t find it in himself to be bothered, not when he gets to spend time with ghost anyway.

soap had wanted to dress a little more formally, make a good impression—but ghost had just shook his head and said it wasn’t necessary. that his current outfit of jeans and a t-shirt would be plenty fine. soap concedes, but it doesn’t ease his anxiety in the slightest.

then they’re turning into the parking lot of a church.

it’s not quite the middle of nowhere, but it’s not busy, either. the church itself is simple, small, but well-kept. it’s graveyard, too.

which appears to be where ghost is leading them.

soap’s anxiety is immediately replaced with a sort of… melancholy.

his heart aches when ghost sits himself down in the grass, in front of four gravestones all paired with the surname riley. it hurts even more when he sits beside ghost, seeing the forlorn expression on his face.

“they’d have loved you, i think,” ghost says. it’s the first time he’s spoken since they’d left his flat. “‘specially jo. he might’ve actually appreciated the mohawk.”

soap laughs quietly, gently bumping ghost’s shoulder with his. “finally, someone with taste.”

ghost snorts, then they’re settling into a new silence as they sit pressed together, observing the headstones.

soap’s head falls onto ghost’s shoulder as he lets out a soft sigh.

“tell me about them?” soap requests.

after a moment, ghost shrugs. “s’pose i didn’t bring you here for nothing.”

it’s almost as sad as it is heartwarming, watching ghost’s face as he describes his loved ones. and while soap would have loved to have been able to properly meet them like he’d initially thought, and while he’s sure ghost wishes the same—it’s still enough, seeing and understanding their importance to ghost, to simon, through his stories alone.

maybe in another universe, the world is kinder to the man that deserves so much peace.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

[lululandd]

not even fate;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 784

warning: fluff? ish? ghost is a coward :3

note: funny thing; i met a dude that reminds me of ghost at the airport and we got onto the same plane and i got seated behind him while this fic was in the works jddhhssjj

summary: ghost wouldn’t even think of making a move on a civilian, even after fate (and his friends) pushed them together more than once.

He saw her hand hover by his bicep in his peripheral before feeling a light tap after. She was pointing at her phone, showing him a google map direction that has the track they’re waiting on. Why on God’s bloody earth would she approach a 6’3 fellow in all black—complete with a black facemask and a matching black wool cap—to ask for directions, he would never understand.

“Hi, sorry, is this the right track?” She meekly asked, if he had less honed senses he would’ve asked her to speak up, but he could hear her just fine over the hustle and bustle of the train station. He noted her neatly brushed and slightly curled hair, the makeup on her face, and the clothes she was wearing.

Would.

He nodded, “Right platform too.” He pointed at the sign a little way away.

Ghost had always scoffed at true crime for describing someone’s smile as ‘lighting up a room’ but that’s what’s he’s seeing right now. With big beautiful doe eyes to complete the set. If he was still fully Simon Riley he would’ve chatted her up, but sadly, he’s no longer.

The woman thanked him as she waited a little bit behind him. Had he known at that point in time how things would go, that night he would’ve turned the other way and go the fuck home. But he didn’t, so he stayed.

He met up with Soap and Gaz at a pizza bar—that in their opinion served undeniably the best pizza and also offered unlimited drinks—which they visited almost everytime on leave. Price was occupied with family activities and said would join them later on, which they knew largely meant he would be skipping this outing.

Noting the man sitting alone next to them checking his phone every few seconds made him thought he got stood up, until the girl from earlier showed up, looking sheepish as she made her way. Her gaze moved over to Ghost, so she waved at him, with a surprised look mixed with recognition. He nodded at her and of course Johnny immediately gassed him.

“Ooooo, who’s that el tee?” He started, nudging his upperarm with his shoulder, “Lass’ mad cute.”

“Don’t know.”

“Tae fock ya mean ya dinnae ken?” His voice a half whisper as she sat down. “She waved at yah.”

“English, Mactavish.”

“The. Fuck. You. Mean. You. Don’t. Know. She. Waved. At. You.”

“Mistook me for someone else, probably.”

“Ya nodded back.” He prodded.

“Didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ah piss off, ya shitebag.” Johnny barked, harmlessly.

Ghost couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, which drove him mad. He kept talking about himself while she just kept nodding and asking more questions, and not single time had he asked something about her. Even when the poor girl did find time to slip in information about herself—which he thought was interesting—he found a way to swerve the conversation back to himself again.

The night went slowly, with soap ordering more pizzas while upping their drinks from pints to shots, and the girl’s date still going on and on and on about himself. Ghost was glad she excused herself and politely denied a second date. He had to make sure he went the opposite way she was going before paying full attention to his friends again. Price showed up abhorrently late, clothes faintly smelling of baby powder and shit, and in his tipsy stupor Soap mentioned the girl from earlier.

“He nodded, cap! Tae da hen!”

John nodded solemnly at Soap’s ramblings and nursed his single drink, not opting for the unlimited drinks. Price had confided in him on his ongoing argument with his wife about his obsession with work, and Ghost listened intently as he took mental notes.

That would never happen to him. He couldn’t relate as he would never let anyone get close to even have such an argument.

He saw her again as he got to the station, a bag of fish and chips in hand. And as he was about to walk a little bit farther so they wouldn’t be in the same wagon, his phone buzzed three times in a row to reveal texts from Soap.

TALK

TO

HER

He froze for a moment and looked around to see where this menace of a Scot could be.

Y R U LOOKING FER ME

HENS RIGHT THERE

💀🖕

Soap’s laugh was loud enough that it could be heard from where he stood, which subsequently made the girl turn around. He saw her scan the room for a little bit before her gaze landed and she smiled, making toasting motions at him with a battered fish.

Ah, fuck.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing #ngl i took a pic of that man like a reprobate

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Forming the Pack - Part 1

Autumn Embers Master List

Pheromones aren’t everything, of course, but you’ll get more cohesive group dynamics if everyone has scents that go together. Scent blockers and diffusers are everywhere in common spaces, so it’s not like people who’s scents don’t mesh can’t be around each other. Lots of people with subtler or hard to pin down scents only go au naturel on special occasions with family and their special someone.

Of course, the military is a whole other beast.

Almost every person serving active duty is an alpha, which lends itself to clashes. And alphas, who already tend to have stronger scents, put out even more aggressive pheromones in close proximity with one another. Industrial strength scent diffusers can only do so much. It results in proximity packs forming, alphas who are scent compatible spending more time with each other.

The 141 doesn’t form because of scent compatibility. When Price finds Simon and forms the task force, he doesn’t much care about what they each smell like. Their scents being on wildly different parts of the spectrum is better than if they were too close, Price reasons. His gear smells a bit spicy, Simon’s always has an earthy undertone. It’s easy to avoid squabbling, and only made easier by the way Simon readily assumes his position as John’s second. No muss, no fuss.

The first year passes. It’s hard work, but Simon makes it undeniably simpler. The Ghost has a presence that demands deference from the temporary members of the task force. And because Ghost follows his captain, that deference extends to Price. The two times someone had tried to upset the balance, Simon had reacted with such swift ferocity that Price hadn’t known there was a problem before it was resolved with a neck under a boot.

“Stand down, Ghost,” Price says around his cigar, the third time.

“'S soon as he acknowledges his superiors, Skipper,” Ghost rumbles, staring down at the sergeant who’s face is going an interesting shade of purple with shame and a lack of oxygen. “Yield, corporal.” The sergeant frantically taps Ghost’s boot. Ghost gives him just enough room to heave a breath, and snarls down, “Yield to the Captain.”

“Captain, I yield,” the young man gasps.

“You ever flout orders again, I’ll kill you myself,” Ghost growls.

After that, the mission had gone smoothly.

Days later, it’s just the two of them again, walking home from the pub. It’s a nice enough night for it, and they’re both too jumpy to call a car. Simon follows without comment, just lights a cigarette and falls into John’s wake, like always.

Four blocks from the base, Simon says, “Gotta piss.”

John snorts. “What, you didn’t go before we left? Hold it.”

“Alright,” Simon drawls. Without breaking stride, he lights another cigarette.

Of course, within another block, John becomes too aware of his own bladder. If Simon hadn’t said anything, he could probably have made it. Annoyed, he steps into an alley and behind a dumpster. His nose does not appreciate the assault on his senses, but he’s a soldier, he’s smelled worse. Simon stands guard at mouth of the alley as he does his business.

When he emerges, he tips his head. “Goin’?”

Simon quirks an eyebrow and exhales a cloud of smoke. “Am I?”

Price hums, takes in Simon’s relaxed posture. Without the skull covered balaclava, he’s softer. Not civilian soft - he’s still almost 2 meters of alpha, hardened by military training and torture. But where most military As balk at taking orders when they’re not in the field, Simon looks for ways to let Price lead.

Simon will do what ever John tells him. It’s a realization that probably shouldn’t thrill him the way it does.

John waves him into the alley. “Be quick about it.”

Without comment, Simon hands his half-finished cigarette over and steps into the alley. John contemplates it as Simon does his business. He prefers cigars, but he takes a drag and tells himself it’s just to keep it lit.

But when Simon re-emerges, John doesn’t hand it back. And Simon doesn’t ask.

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #simon ghost riley #captain john price #manic pixie dream ghost #price is right #(in my heart) simon likes a hierarchy #but he never wants to be at the very top of it #(this was part of a larger document that has been sitting in my files for some time) #(posting to remind myself that I don't have to be perfect) #(i'm allowed to put my own stuff on my blog even if it's not finished)

[tiddygame]

ghost’s civilian wardrobe is nothing but hawaiian shirts. soap is in utter disbelief the first time he sees it. ghost says they’re good bc:

it’s so fucking ugly, no one can stand to look at it for too long so he doesn’t draw attention

No one thinks the ghost would wear something so bright and stupid meaning he’s completely under cover every time he’s on leave

they’re cheap and an easy thrift

but he just really fucking likes how goddamn ugly they are

…

at least, that’s what he tells soap. and himself. in reality, they were always tommy’s thing. he always wore them to the point everyone knew that the safest gift to get him was the ugliest patterned shirts they could find. in every family photo, tommy was the easiest to spot with the brightest eye sore worn proudly with a smile.

after that cold night in december, all of their stuff was either donated or thrown away.

one day, ghost was thrift shopping (because even though now he had more money, habits from being raised in a poor home die hard) and saw one of them. he froze. at first, he thought it was just one that looked similar. but when he inspected it, it even had that old tear tommy had gotten simon to fix and sew up for him.

he grabbed it in a daze. he searched every rack in that store and found a few more hawaiian shirts. if they were tommy’s or not didn’t matter. he bought them. for days, he hunted through every thrift store in town buying every stupid patterned shirt he saw.

knowing that the few shirts he collected was the only thing he had left of his baby brother finally broke him. he probably looked insane, sitting in his old beat up pickup truck, surrounded by shopping bags from different stores, crying into a yellow and orange button up with flowers on it, and one sewn up tear on the sleeve. but it was tommy’s. and it was all he had.

at first, they were hidden away in a box. he lied to himself that it was because he wanted to keep them safe, but in reality, he couldn’t look at them without either wanting to cry or punch holes in the wall.

but, one christmas, he finally pulls his head out of his ass and grabs them. visits the cemetery in a stupid yellow and orange monstrosity of a shirt and complains that tommy couldn’t have had a better fashion sense.

he wears another when he has to go grocery shopping. and again when he runs errands. and again. and again. and again.

the first time one of them got something on it, he almost cried and pulled every trick his mother taught him about removing stains. the shadow of it persisted but the pattern covered most of it.

eventually, they became a staple of his wardrobe.

years later, soap watched ghosts careful routine he had for washing the shirts. they were always washed separately on delicate and air dried with routine inspections for any holes or tears. it would click later, when finding an old family photo, one with a young boy on simon’s shoulders and another man next to him in a familiar yellow and orange shirt, that perhaps simon hadn’t been entirely truthful when he said he just liked them.

simon was scared the first time soap did his laundry, but johnny always washed them with the same level of care, following the exact same routine. he still made fun of him (lovingly, of course), saying that crimes against fashion must run in the family.

…

and further down the line, years later, they will be old and graying with wrinkles, wearing matching hawaiian shirts. johnny will complain about how ugly they are yet will still wear it happily (and tune out simon reminding him that it was johnnys idea to start matching)

#he also wears those skull and wolf shirts tucked in with a studded belt purely for the despair in soaps eyes #soap fell in love with a fashion disaster and ghost will spend the rest of their lives making him regret it #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #i can’t tell if this is nice sappy or hallmark cash grab sappy #sorry if it’s hallmark cash grab sappy

[hobbit-historian]

Prompt: “you’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.”

Character: Simon “Ghost” Riley

Warnings: none really, fluffy, tooth rotting sweetness. Not as proof read as it should be.

Y/N sat outside, feet dangling over the edge of the balcony, eyes to the sky. She sighed. Night time seemed to be the only time for peace lately. Mission after mission she had gone on with the 141st.

Price had extended the invite a couple months ago.

She had said yes.

Never would she have imagined that it would’ve kept her this busy. But for the time she lost she gained a family much tighter than she had ever expected.

So when she took a minute to catch her breath and stargaze, it’s no wonder that one found her outside.

“Stars talkin to ya, lovie?”

Y/N clicked her tongue. “They stopped talking as soon as you got here, Ghost.”

She lowered her gaze from the heavens but didn’t turn to look behind her - if Ghost didn’t have his balaclava on, she didn’t want to invade his privacy. From day one, even while they had been fighting, she had respected his privacy. It wouldn’t change now.

The balcony quivered as Ghost traipsed across it. It shuddered ever so slightly as he sat next to her. Y/N kept her gaze on her feet. She smiled; they were clad in only a pair of fuzzy blue socks.

“Look at me, Y/N. Tell me what they say.”

Slowly, her gaze crept up to Ghost’s. He wore his traditional black hoodie and skull mask. His brown eyes were calm, steady.

Y/N felt her shoulders relax. She needn’t worry about making sure she didn’t accidentally see Ghost’s face.

Once their eyes clicked, a tingle shot up Y/N’s spine.

She tore her gaze away quickly, wondering if Ghost had felt that too.

“They don’t say anything. They’re quiet. Unlike the rest of the 141st.”

Ghost let out a chuckle. “Tell me about it,” he grumbled. “Nobody shuts up around this place.” He shot a glance at Y/N. “You’re included in that.”

She feigned hurt, placing a hand over her heart. “Simon Riley. Why I never. One would assume that I talked nonstop with that kind of talk.”

He said nothing, but the corners of his eyes wrinkled.

“I see that smile, Ghostie. Looks good on you.”

Ghost snorted. “Don’t call me that.”

Y/N shoved his shoulder. “Shut up. You know you like it.”

Both sat in a comfortable silence as they turned their gaze up towards the stars. Y/N breathed in deeply. She could feel the starlight shining down on her. She drank it in, breathed it out.

Inhale,

Exhale.

In,

Out.

Ghost shifted next to her, but Y/N let him be.

She was focused on the stars and the peace they offered. Y/N closed her eyes but kept her face turned up. As her breathing slowed, she could feel her heartbeat strengthen. This, this is what she needed.

A wind sprang up and swept her hair across her face, but she paid no mind to it. She focused instead on the leaves rustling in the trees and the grass whispering beneath her.

But as the wind continued, it picked up intensity. It brought a shiver to her skin.

She cracked her eyes open and looked down at her treacherous skin. Goosebumps pocked her arms.

Y/N tried to shove that off and focus back on the stars, but the cold was seeping deeper into her.

The shivering didn’t stop.

“You’re shivering.”

Leave it to Ghost to state the obvious.

“Yes, L.T. I am.”

She finally swung her gaze away from the stars around to face her friend.

He was already staring at her.

Not at her eyes, but down at her arm, which was still trembling.

Her eyes remained fixed on his face, however.

At how soft his gaze was.

At how worried he seemed to be at her shivering.

At how his hands twitched as he restrained himself from taking her arms in his hands to try and share his warmth.

“Simon?” She whispered his name, his government name strange on her lips.

“Look forward, Y/N.”

She did as he asked, confused.

Ghost stood, hovering just behind her. There was a rustling noise and then something big, black, and heavy landed in her lap.

“Here. Take my jacket.”

She stared, astonished.

“Simon, I…”

“Stay out here, enjoy the quiet. You can give it back in the morning.” With that, he walked off, the balcony conveying each step he took.

She knew he was gone when the wood was finally silent and the silence felt heavy.

Y/N looked down at the hoodie in her hands. There was a lingering warmth from Ghost. She slipped it on, unsurprised when it swallowed her up.

Y/N inhaled.

It smelled like Simon, clove and sandalwood and cinnamon.

A smile crept on her lips as she looked back up at the stars. She leaned back until her back was resting flat on the balcony.

Inhale, exhale.

In, out.

Peace.

And warmth.

“Thanks Simon,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and breathed in the night.

She could’ve sworn she heard a gruff “you’re welcome,” but maybe that was the breeze through the trees instead

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

[marksbear]

So I don’t know if you still take commissions (even though it literally says it’s open by the time I’m typing this lmao) but I was thinking of Ghost from COD modern warfare 2 with male reader who is mute? Also male reader is like a total sweetheart, pretty shy.

Maybe it’s winter and Ghost invites his friends to his house for dinner for some reason (maybe male reader wanted to meet them but ghost said no cause he wanted privacy) , and on the car ride there Ghost accidentally mentions his househusband which suprised the team since he never talked about him. (Let alone he was into guys)

Ghost says that he wanted their marriage to be private and makes a quick recap of what male reader is like, who is a photographer and has 3 Barbie dolls (I like Barbie dolls don’t judge me 😂) and gave them their own personalities and stuff on social media to look like they’re traveling the world.

They reached home, male reader welcomes them and quickly heads to the kitchen cause he’s making the food. The crew all sit at the table eating (the food is delicious) and Soap asks how they met and Ghost just says that it’s pretty boring.

Idk what happens next, (maybe they play a board game? Or they continue chatting with Ghost and male reader, ur pick) but after that the crew stays for the night and Ghost and male reader sleep together.

(Also, small detail, male reader is wearing a sweater and sweatpants)

thank u for your time

This has to be one of the cutest requests I've had in a while! Ngl. The barbie doll part honestly took me out.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X MUTE photographer MALE READER

Finally winter break in task force 141 arrived. It's one of the few times they get off for holidays and to be with family.

So the team made a tradition. The first day of the break everyone takes turns to take the team to their home for dinner, since it maybe the last time they'll see each other in a while.

This time around it's Simon's turn.

At first Ghost didn't want to be the host. He didn't want the team all up in his personal business. Simon already had an excuse in mind as to why he couldn't host, but sadly his husband found out about the tradition and begged Ghost to meet them.

But the cold hearted man said no at first, but his husband had convinced him to host.

So this leads into now.

Ghost was driving to his house with Price in the passenger seat while the others were in the backseats. The car was blasted with loud music because of Gaz. and conversation.

"Hey Simon!--" Soap shouts trying to catch the male attention. But sadly the music went over his words. "Ghooost!~" Gaz drags out as well. The pair try over and over again trying to catch Ghost.

Soap taps Price on his shoulder. Price turns his head to the side looking at Soap. Soap signals with his hands to turn down the radio even using his hand as an example. The captain immediately understands and turns his head back around facing the radio and turning it down.

"Fuckin hell finally. Ghost!" Soap says finally being able to hear himself. Simon hums in response.

"You got anything or anyone at home? Like dogs, cats..." Soap trails off with Gaz finishing the question. "Secret girlfriends?" Ghost lets out a groan and an eye roll.

"No Johnny. I have no one there." Ghost says clearing lying shooting down the question.

The car grows silent with only soft music playing in the background.

"Any kids? Since theres a little barbie back here with brand new packaging." Gaz points out picking up the box. "Don't tell me you play with dolls L.t?" Soap teases with a smirk.

"No. I don't have any kids. And the box is a gift for my husband..." Simon trails off as realization slowly sets in.

Price eyebrow raises looking away from the window and to the soldier next to him. "You liar!" Soap shouts point his finger at Simon. "Husband?" Price repeats looking at Simon. "You like guys!?!" Gaz says looking around wide eyed.

"Fucks sake." Simon says slapping himself mentally.

"Well who is he!?!"

"What is he like??

"What's his job?"

"Does he treat you right?"

"Why didn't you tell us about him!!"

Question after question comes from the group.

"I wanted our marriage to be private. It's none of y'all's business about me and my husband's love life. But i'll only give you a small recap about him, but that's it..." Simon breathes out with his tone full with annoyance.

"His name is Y/n L/n. He's a mute photographer with three barbie dolls he gave their own personalities and background stories with verified social media accountants about what's going on with their lives. Like them traveling the world, their boyfriends, mental health updates and so on. The girls names are (___) (____) and my favorite (___)"

Simon says getting his phone and goes to one of the dolls social media accounts clicking on the newest photo of the girl and shows his team.

The picture is (____) looking outside the window looking for someone while the other girls are trying to confused in the background.

The caption read:

"(____) waiting for her husband to come home from the military."

After everyone sees it Simon takes his phone back and likes the post.

After a few more miles Simon sees his house in a couple more feet away. "Were here." Simon says waking up Gaz. Simon parks the car in the driveway and turns the car off.

Ghost looks in the backseat snatching the brand new toy from Gaz's hands before leaving the car with the team following close behind him.

"Don't make me regret taking y'all here." Ghost breathes out mostly talking about Soap and Gaz.

Before Ghost could unlock the door, the door swings open.

A pair of arms wrap around Ghost's body hugging him tight. Almost causing Simon to fall.

Insistingly Simon wraps his arms around his husband back hugging him tight bringing him closer. "I miss you too..." Simon says into the crook of Y/n's neck.

Y/n is first to pull away before giving Simon a quick kiss on Simon's covered lips. Y/n's head looks over Simon's shoulder looking at the men behind him.

Y/n gives them a bright wave before walking back inside the house.

Soap and Gaz lets out a few giggles thats quickly shushed by Price glaring at them.

"Well don't just keep standin there cmon." Simon groans out walking inside the house leading them into the dinning room.

TIMESKIP

After Simon gets the team all settled down in the dinning room he walks to the kitchen holding his husband's gift behind his back. "Y/n love, come here." Simon says looking at him.

Y/n turns his head to his husband and stops from what he was doing and walks over to Simon looking at him confused.

"Here. For you and the girls." Simon says showing the brand new barbie to him. Simon watches his husband's eyes become filled with joy and ideas.

Y/n takes the box out of Simon's hands before using his free hand to pull down Simon's mask to kiss him deeply on the lips. Y/n kiss him over and over again as thank yous.

"Your welcome." Simon says against Y/n's lips.

"How about you go show the girls while I take over cooking." Simon suggests.

Y/n doesn't need to get told twice as he goes upstairs to the dolls "personal" room.

TIMESKIP

After the food was done cooking Y/n and Simon began to serve the team with food and drinks even Deseret. The whole team loved the food. (Even got Gaz asking for seconds)

As everyone is eating and talking about whatever Soap finds something to talk about.

"Where did you two meet." Soap asks looking at Ghost and his husband.

"It's pretty boring..." Simon answers trying to shoot down the question. "I bet it's not." Price voice rings out. "Trust me it is." "I don't believe you." Gaz says already planning to ask Y/n if Simon doesn't tell them.

"It's just pretty boring how we met. Nothing fancy or cute just boring." Simon says once again.

As the team begins to argue about wanting to know they don't notice Y/n with one of his dolls and his photography camera posing her at the dinner table taking pictures.

Y/n even got to sneak some pictures of her staring at Price with love in her eyes.

It isn't until a while Simon notices he wasn't paying his husband any attention. Simon looks to the left of him to only get met with a doll in his husband's seat looking at price.

"Y/n." Simon calls out looking at his husband taking her pictures. Y/n looks away from his camera looking at Simon with a smile.

Timeskip

Finally hours past everyone is ready for bed. Y/n takes each team member to a guest room signing them "goodnight" before finally going to his own room with his husband.

Y/n strips out of his clothes and into one of Simon's shirts and sweats before crawling into the bed.

After a while Simon comes inside the room after washing the dishes. Simon takes off his shirt pants putting on sweats as well before climbing into bed.

Simon wraps his arms around Y/n bringing him close.

"I love you." Simon whispers against Y/n. Y/n kiss Simon on the cheek responding with the same love.

THE END

#simon riley x male reader #ghost x male reader #ghost simon riley #mw2 x male reader #mw2 ghost #call of duty x male reader #call of duty #x male reader #x mute male reader #male reader #the bear club

[fanficwriterlover]

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 2 (Part 1) : Big News to All

Summary : Hera has returned home, yet your absence has put a damper on the taskforce 141. Everyone is confused of your absence and it takes a lot of getting used to being a civilian now and being pregnant now.

Expectations: Confessions, Past Smut, Shooting, Cursing, Pregnancy, Reveals, Reconnecting, Smoking, Drinking, Assault, Google Translator etc.

Call-Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 6.7k

A03 Version

Ghost’s POV

Quit ? You ? That almost seems impossible to believe. He composes himself once more looking at Price for any sign of misunderstanding. But who was he kidding, this sort of topic isn’t something Price would make up into the thin of air let alone joke about. He could tell this was taking a heavy toll on him, as if this was the last thing he would’ve expected. As he should, because he probably was unaware that it was due to him scolding her for making her quit. Least, that’s what he told himself. His eyes narrow seeing the paper before Price, it was your resignation form. You filled it out yesterday and gave it to him. He stood for the longest time processing, had his words been too harsh ? Should be have approached you yesterday and apologized for what he said to you. Yet, Price was the one to pull him from his thoughts… “I was hoping she wouldn’t go about it this way…unless you had a hand in the decision?” he cocks his brow at him waiting. But from the sound of it, why was he asking as if the two of you talked as if you both needed approval from another ? “Sir ?” he was confused, why would he make a decision for you ? Obviously this made Price eyes widen “She didn’t say or mention anything to you ?” he then narrows his eyes on Ghost, Ghost was just as confused as he cocked a brow, crossing his arms over his chest “Should I have been aware of a choice the Sargent had made on her own accord ?” Price huffs at that rubbing his forehead, something was eating at him… like he knew something that Ghost didn’t knows. However he seems to brush it under “Nevermind Simon…I thought you two may have discussed or something before she wrote in her resignation.” He sighs at this leaning back in his chair grabbing a cigar and his lighter. Stressed. This wasn’t at all what they were expecting from you. Out of everyone you were the most driven and dedicated to staying with the taskforce. You saw them as family, and felt accepted. Ghost couldn’t help but feel slightly, disappointed? When he said those words to you, he expected you to more prove him wrong…but guess you didn’t. Yet, why is it bothering him so much that you didn’t. He looks back at the Captain “Sir…was there something I should know" he asks curiously watching the Captains movement as he took a drag of his smoke yet eventually landing his eyes back on him. “Honestly, it’s not my place to say Simon. But, when the time is right, I’m sure you’ll get the answer.” He sighs heavily, Ghost could see traces of stress in his voice that the very idea they’ve lost another member would take a toll. And it would, being asked into this taskforce is no easy deal. You’d be a hard person to replace, and quite frankly it’s too soon for it.

Ghost takes his leave from Prices office, he lingers by the door for a moment processing his words and his own with you. This felt like horrible timing, he wished he knew where you live so he could snap some sense into you. Maybe Johnny or Gaz knows where you live ? Perhaps he should see how they’re handling the news if they know about it. Surely she would’ve said goodbye to her best friends ? Though it’s odd that she didn’t even give Price a chance to coax her otherwise, and why wasn’t Price making efforts to get her back? For her to even leave would’ve required a signature approving her reason to depart, therefore someone higher rank has given it to her. But who ?

He trudges down the halls of the bunkers then sees one of the doors wide open, deep down he knew exactly who the room belonged to, well had, as he stands in front of the doorframe, your room. He can see that the room is a bare state now. The bed perfectly tucked and made, with an extra blanket laying at the end, folded neatly, with the pillow at the top fluffed up. From the desk cleaned with even some new pencils and pens in a cup and blank sheets of papers laid neatly, obviously done for the next person to inherit this room. He couldn’t help but be reminded of how the two of you spent that night together. It was a moment he let himself go, let Ghost go, and brought out Simon. He felt vulnerable to your touch yet felt the power that always coursed through you spread through him. Yet now, as he stands in the middle of your room, it’s cold, empty, lifeless. It feels more as if you were killed off never to be seen again. That made it feel worse. The fact that you made a room warm would be loss now. But most of all, he didn’t realize how dark his vision had become without your energy . You bright aura that shined so dominantly, it gave Ghost a headache sometimes because he was never used to such a sight. No matter when you’ve been shot at, stabbed, nearly blown up (as he still remembers the incident like it was yesterday). Every hellish moment, he was there with you during them saving you at the last minute or finding you. Even then, you never, ever, let it diminish your light. He takes in his surroundings once more, before silently leaving the bunker as he walked out the door he could hear the familiar footfall patterns of two Sargent’s obviously coming down probably to collect you. Instead they are faced with a skull mask.

Gaz curses in a mumble and Johnny practically jumps when Ghost steps out through the room. They both were obviously not expecting the looming man to step from your bedroom, but Gaz quickly recovers. “Afternoon sir, is y/n up ? We hadn’t seen her in a while and thought she was cooping herself up in there.” They both look at him expectantly he frowns a bit, it was a fleeting moment one neither would’ve caught as he now knew, that not only did you leave somehow with approval and never told himself or maybe the captain but you didn’t even tell your closest friends. The Sargent’s. He looks away from them glancing down to the other way of the hall saying gruffly “You won’t find ‘er ‘ere. She resigned from the taskforce.” He could hear the sharp intake of Soap and as he glances at them with his arms crossed now, they both are wide eyed and shocked. Soap is the first to speak “What ?! I don’t fuckin’ believe it !” he peeks into your once room, seeing how bare it is, he start rummaging through everything as if looking for any sign that just maybe, maybe, you left for a bit and would return. He flung open your closet where your clothes used to hang but it was empty, except for extra hangers on the pole and extra blankets, towels, etc laying on the top shelf. Gaz stands there stunned yet, sadden as Soap still seems to refuse you’ve left as he curses “Fuck !” his efforts are to no a vail. You had cleaned out your bunker spotlessly, there was no practical evidence of you living here for all these years. And that’s what hurt more. Gaz mumbles softly. “She didn’t even say bye…nothing…” he almost whispers it. Ghost could tell it was tearing the inside of Gaz. You two were hip and bone. He remembers when the two of you found out that you were part of the same taskforce exclaiming how you both met on a mission in Paris and you were aiding Gaz’s team to collecting more Intel. So seeing that not only were they not told of your soon departure but you had left without a word to your friend. Ghost breaks the annoying silence, in some cases he would’ve enjoyed it, but it was painful now, usually you were the one to break the moment with your cheerful demeanor and made everyone forget what they were glooming or stressing about. Now you were gone. The effects obvious now. “Soap, Gaz, you two are needed to train the privates. Should get to it Sargent’s.” He watches as they both seem to straighten up at the order, walking out of your once room slowly, Gaz lingering last as Ghost observed him. “Did she not say anything to you Lt ?” he still looking at the room but glances his way as Ghost meets his eyes, “No.” Gaz nods his head painfully, almost having to accept the reality, he took his leave of the room leaving Ghost last. He takes one last look, a reminder of the place he seen her so many times, before leaving. He shut the door to your room then went to his office to get some work done. Maybe, just maybe, he hoped they’d see you again. Maybe you would come back ?

Your Pov

Honestly it was scary leaving, the base was your home for so long. Wearing your military attire was all you’ve ever known., yet now you were dressed as a civilian in a cab heading back. Already you felt butterflies in your stomach, it was thanks to Laswell for making the changes and approving you resignation and to leave the base. Already driving home, you were about three hours from your home and already excited to see your mother. You had called ahead to let your mother know you’ll be returning home which she was ecstatic to know you’ll be home. She just didn’t know you were pregnant and you had to leave the taskforce because of it. That was a conversation you were dreading. Your mother being a single mother and raising you on her own, had always wanted you to do better than her. She made the mistake in dating your father who had one too many issues that your mother to this day refuses to share the details. All you knew was you mother hightailed as far as possible, dishonored by her own parents for being knocked up before marriage and choosing to keep you. Yet to her, you were a blessing. You gave her motivation to keep living and honestly embrace motherhood. You were never a complicated child, sure as you got older you rebelled but you respected your mother above all else. She inspired you to join the military because you saw her as fearless and determined as a soldier. The moment you hit 16, things were getting harder financially so you asked her, no pleaded with her to let you join the service. Of course emotionally she refuses but you had encouraged telling her how it was your wish, even though you simply joined to support your mother. Every paycheck you received went to your mother. And you made certain she was given it on time. This allowed your mother and you to look into a new home that was more suitable than a dingy old flat. You both ended up saving up on a nice townhouse that had more rooms than your old flat. It was a three bedroom two bath, a decent size kitchenette, living, and one office. One bedroom is upstairs and the other is upstairs next to the office.

You knew immediately that the third bedroom will likely become your unborn child’s bedroom. A part of you seemed excited to prepare for the baby but another part of you terrified, you left at a crucial time for the team. You would have gone on a mission to eliminate and it was a top priority but now with you out, and no reason to be allowed to return for a long while it broke your heart to think that you’ll be looked at differently. Definitely probably in the eyes of the Lieutenant, you knew he took betrayal seriously and to him you’re probably certain he believes you did just that.

Sighing heavily you rub your brows you draw closer and closer to home, passing by valley, meadows, woods, homes, farmlands and more each passing by in a haze. It’s almost hard to imagine that this world is peaceful when there’s war raging elsewhere. Knowing exactly your team will be giving their lives for this exact peace while you would not be there to see it through. You don’t realize how much driving gone by until you see a familiar street, as your driver turns down it. Your home, how it seemed unfamiliar, all the rows of homes lined up nicely in different shades it was emotional seeing it once more. When the driver finally pulls to the front of your driveway you nearly suck in a breath. Seeing your home digits on the door as you can seeing your mother’s car in the driveway. You smile to yourself, opening your purse you grab out the cash to pay the driver, adding an extra tip for the ride as he gets out to pull out your duffle bag. You travel light, you didn’t have much anyways. Taking it in hand you thank him as he then drives off.

Standing in your driveway it felt unreal, you never thought you’d come home honestly. With always being on mission you honestly thought you’d die on the field before you ever could be home again. As sad as that reality was, you were always away. From one base to another it never ended. And Laswell always needed your for a mission so it was impossible to be in one place for long. Which you didn’t mind, however, sometimes you were homesick or close to facing death. You don’t know how long you were staring at your apartment but the next thing you knew, the door to your home flies open, your eyes quickly snap in that direction, immediately thinking your mother must’ve seen you through the window. She was in pure tears rushing down the three steps as you began to get emotional to “Mom!” you cry as she tightly embraces you you don’t remember dropping your duffle bag you’re just overwhelmed, she’s crying holding you and it makes you feel so loved once again. “Oh my god ! Y/n !” She sniffles as she strokes your cheek looking at your face you had one tiny scar over the top of your brow nothing serious, least not compared to the ones on your body as she hugs you again “I thought you wouldn’t get here for another hour ?” she smiles at you happily taking in that you’re in front of her as you laugh softly “Well, that would ruin the element of surprise.” You wipe your eyes but she immediately begins to do so too before wiping her own. “Come ! Let’s get you inside ! Oh I just can’t believe my little girls home !” you smile bashfully, knowing it’s not the only thing you brought home. Yet you followed your mother waist to waist carrying your duffle as you entered your home.

Couple Hours Later

It doesn’t take you long to settle into your room, your mother insists on making you a grand meal upon your arrival and had even already contacted your Uncle Daryl to come see you. You were his only niece and favorite. He raised you as if you were his own daughter so hearing he’ll be arriving made you smile. As you walked around your place you couldn’t help but smile seeing the pictures hung of the two of you when you were much younger. It almost made you hope you could share the same experiences with your own child…This also made you come to the conclusion that you’ll have to tell your mother and uncle about your unplanned pregnancy. The thought made your stomach feel more acidic, but you kept it down in your stomach. Though the thought quickly left your mind when you nearly jumped from your seat upon hearing the front door open abruptly. Turning your head you see your Uncle Daryl, who obviously out of breath and eyes scanning the place until he sees YOU.

The tears prick at the corner of your eye as you stand up and he takes long strides to meet in the middle. Embracing you in a tight hug. You missed him. Your mother sneaks a peek seeing the two of you embracing as she also starts to get emotional and comes in to join the hug. Your family. One you sometimes forget because you’re so consumed in your job. You don’t know how long the three of you hold each other, or who was the first to withdraw but you sniffle wiping your eyes then smile “Good seeing you Uncle,” he huffs smiling back with the biggest one, showing his dimples. He was your mother’s big brother, so of course he looked after the two of you. He too was part of the military, the Air Force to be exact, and he was another inspiration for you to joining the military. Yet you never imagined you’d be in more dangerous situations than him. “Good seeing you again lil lumière.(little light)” He seems to do a quick scan over you, probably looking for any kind of wounds, which fortunately are in areas well hidden so you thanked your lucky stars. Otherwise he would’ve gone on a rant about how unwise you decided to join the most dangerous type of work. Honestly you were glad you could share a bit with him, of course not classified information but it helped to share her struggles and things only he would understand and handle emotionally better than your mother could. “Momma, is making our favorite tonight.” You giggle seeing his eyes widen with excitement “Oh you shouldn’t have Monica ! Hell, I’m trying to keep this old body still in shape and you trying to fatten me up !” he laughs at this which your mother playfully whacks him on the arm “Only thing fattening you up Daryl is your wine.” You couldn’t help but stifle a snort as he looks at you to her offended “Sorry Unc, she’s got a point.” He grumbles in French, which you caught a little how he says we disgrace the French tongue. However your mother rolls her eyes and goes on her way to continue cooking as you go to sit down with your uncle. “So…what brought you back ? And I don’t want to hear,” as he uses the air quotes incorrectly “That you wanted a vacay. I know you better than that.” He leans close as he was seated across from you in a lounge chair waiting for your response. You shift in your sheet, his narrowing eyes felt the same as your Captain. Which would make sense because your Uncle was once the Commander of his unit. “Well…I resigned from the taskforce…” his eyes shoot wide open, obviously shocked. Yet he goes straight back to composing himself narrowing then once again “Why ?” it came out gruff and you felt like you were on the pedestal being scolded by your homeroom teacher. “I-, I wanted to tell you both honestly…not just one of you.” He cocks his head to the side confused, what you didn’t know was your mother was ease dropping in the conversation as she steps out with concern written on her face “What is it sweetie ?” your uncle seems to be processing and calculating different reasons why you would have resigned from the taskforce, let alone been allowed to. You could practically see the gears in his brain churning with every possibility. You must’ve been holding your breath because you quickly blurted out “I’m pregnant.”

In a quick huff you take in both your uncle and moms facial. Complete shock. Your uncle seems to be going between your eyes and stomach almost probably finding it hard to believe and possibly questioning how along are you because you sure as hell didn’t look it “3 weeks…I’m three weeks pregnant.” Biting your lower lip you couldn’t help but feel anxious with the growing silence between the two as you spoke “Look, I know it’s horrible timing. It wasn’t exactly intentional… and I’ll be allowed back in the task force once the baby is born but the station chief made the call and got me out so no one would question my absence.” You pant out, you said it so quickly your mother must’ve been confused on some parts but her eyes were welling up and it made you more worry that it was because of disappointment “I- I know…I’m so-” your mother latches herself around your neck hugging you as your left dumbfounded as she speaks softly stroking your hair “Oh sweetie, if you’re happy with having this child, I’ll sport and help you. You have NOTHING to apologize for.” she looks you dead in the eyes and you feel a sense of warmth. You should’ve known, your mother would walk through hell with you and trust you entirely. You’ve done nothing but look after her and provide her a good life, so she was beyond willing to do the same for you and your child. You glance over at your uncle who seems to be processing, as he says lowly “I knew something was different about you kid…” you and your mom look at him confused as you never felt nervous until you saw him smile. “You’re glowing as much as your mother did when she was pregnant with you mi lumière” he stands up and comes over rubbing your back at you give him the most appreciative smile “Thank you… both of you” felt like a weight came off your shoulder. Telling them was a big deal and knowing they’d still support you made you feel so much better. You Uncle then looks serious at you “So, do I want to know who the âne (jackass) of a father to this baby is ?” You mother once again reaches over and whacks your uncle who curses “Qu’est-ce que c’est que Monica ?!(What the hell Monica)” you begin laughing as your mother giggles, with your uncle huffing in mild amusement. “Well ?” he cocks his brow looking at you as you blush a bit “I- I can’t tell you yet, but I promise he’s a good man…in his own way.” He squints his eyes at you questioning your choice of words “If that’s so…why isn’t he here ?” obviously your mother senses you tense from the subject giving a glare in your uncle’s direction “What Daryl means is ! As long as he’s a good man we’re happy” he grumbles a bit “Bien sûr Bien sûr (Of course of course) , but why isn’t he here with you meeting us ?” he cocks his brow again as you sigh knowing he won’t be letting go “Because…I didn’t tell him exactly he’s going to be a father…”he rubs his face with both hands obviously more stressed. Your mother seems taken back by this news as she tentatively asks “Why not sweetie ?”

A good question indeed, honestly the idea of telling them the father is your Lieutenant would sending your uncle to his grave early. And no, not from the idea but simply because you know he’d be yelling his hat off to Ghost and would likely get himself well handed to him. Sighing heavily “I didn’t get a chance, they were preparing for a mission.” You’d hope they’d buy it, your mother seems to have. But your uncle ? Hah, impossible he could read you like a book and as he should considering he used to be a commander. You mother claps her hands together standing up “Well ! This is a cause for pie then and I’ll need to run to store to collect some stuff. Write a list dear, I know those growing cravings will get to you soon.” She smiles with delight going back into the kitchen leaving you with your uncle.

He stares at you for a few moments as if waiting to make sure your mother was actually in the kitchen continuing to cook. When he’s satisfied, hearing the clattering of pots and pans against the stove or her bustling through the fridge for ingredients he then speaks lowly “So, what’s the real reason the father doesn’t know?” he squints his eyes at you, felt more like an interrogation then question, however you probably wouldn’t be surprised he’s using his Commander tone in order to get an answer from you. In all honesty it worked. “Because his my superior officer. I was told to tell him but quite honestly I don’t think he would’ve…” you bite your tongue considering your next words tentatively “I don’t think he could handle having a child. He barely knows himself.” You say softly. Hoping your uncle wouldn’t pry further. Which he wouldn’t. He understood every soldier has traumatic experiences in the military especially being in the SAS. He had no doubt you’ve seen things he would’ve rather your eyes never witnessed. With that answer he nods his head. “Well…one of these days you need to tell him. Perhaps you’d be more surprised by the outcome.” He pauses for a moment stroking his chin and looking out the window “If I’m being honest y/n, I think telling the father would make him better. I know when Monica told me, I was horrified for her. But then,” He smiles “Then when you were born it all changed. Before you I was short tempered and…” he grumbles “Not gentle with my choice of words which I got a firm scolding from Monica during his hormonal stages.” The idea your mother would have yelled seems hard to believe, even when you did wrong she never raised her voice at you. “Tell him one day y/n. I think your child deserves that chance at least.” Pondering on his words he leaves the room to go help your mother continue cooking with you contemplating on his words.

Maybe you should…perhaps ? What’s the worst that can happen ? He rejects you once again ? Tells you your on your own when you’ve already mentally accepted that fate ? Maybe your uncle is right, you don’t know. Ghost is still a mystery to you. Sometimes he’s snappy and harsh to others especially during missions. But you know he means well. Infact you couldn’t help but think about the times he was more…nicer to you. Like the time you were at the shooting range you were working with different weapons at the time, but particularly was working with a heavy set rifle that always made you sore in the shoulders…

You huff annoyed after having pulled the trigger on this rifle. It was bulky and heavy, when it fired it sent a painful ache up your shoulder upon impact. Now usually your preferred rifle was lighter and easier to handle the impact into your shoulder. Yet this one, this one was so big and bulky, the idea of carrying it onto the field seemed impossible. You’re only average height standing 5’7, which apparently to everyone else is very small since you usually get picked on. However, you always made up for your size with your agile self and quickness. If a bigger opponent used their full strength you had to be quicker. It’s why you did so well on the field especially hand to hand combat. You had you fair share of training with other recruits, privates, and Sargent’s McTavish and Garrick. Soap always gave you a run for your money but you always held your ground. Yet, you never dared to attempt against ghost. He was a forced to be recon with. You seen soap spar with him and seeing the big brute of the Scottish man easily subdued was terrifying.

Withdrawing your gaze from the scoop you grab the binoculars to inspect how well you shot it, not a bulleye, you hit right outside it. You were close…but it wasn’t good enough. A mere inches off is enough to give the enemy time to fire a shot back at you or detonate you and your team. The progress you’ve made with the weeks of practicing seemed futile. You almost were considering telling price you were not cut out for this particular mission which required you to be watching soaps six while ghost would be overwatch. Why they were making you go, you understood. They wanted to get in quick only relying on stealth and to not attract attention. Not saying ghost would, but his large stature would give way to the enemies quickly. Yet, you’ve seen him infiltrate buildings with ease but this mission was hoping to shed no blood shed. Sighing heavily you lean away from the table, “you keep gripping it like that you’ll never hit your target right.” The words from a deep voice made you almost jump, as you quickly reached for your knife quickly swing it behind you, only for your wrist to be caught, inches from ghosts looming neck. You let out a shaky voice “Lieutenant..” You were embarrassed now, relaxing your stance as he releases his hold on your wrist before looking right over your head where you had missed your target once more already having hit it 7 times to no avail. “When you fire don’t fight against the shot, you tense alters your movement when looking through scope.” He nods his head “Try again.” You raise a brow at him but obey. Not like you’d ignore your lieutenants orders. Facing back and getting into position, you then start to feel his hand readjust your stance, it was subtle, he used his boot to nudge your feet, he used his gloved hand to fix your elbow, then poke at your shoulder to moving it back and relax. When he seemed content after fixing your stance he simply grunts an approval. His back leaning against the table as you take the shot. It felt different, not as abrupt when the bullet launched your whole body seemed to absorb it better, and when you lift your gaze from the scope to look at where it hit you see you finally hit the bulleye. You’re shocked …you made the shot, but that’s not what was shocking to you, ghost helped you make it. Glancing up at him, his posture was looking at the base but his eyes were gazing down at you. “Not bad.” He mumbles before pushing off the table and walking off. You’re left stunned but appreciative. He didn’t have to help you, let alone adjust your stance. You began continuing to practice doing that stance until the day of the mission. Honestly, it paid off.

Now that that you’re thinking back on it, perhaps that’s when you began to notice other subtle gestures Ghost would show to you. At first you just thought it was his way of correcting you but now maybe…it was perhaps he cared enough to do so. He never took the time to do that with other recruits or privates. So maybe ? Perhaps you should give him the benefit of the doubt at least give him the chance to see if he wants to be a part of your child’s life. For now…you’ll wait. You’re certain by now they’re deciding best course of action eliminating General Ghorbani, that was the mission you were tasked to go with Ghost yet instead you’re dealing with his unborn child growing in your stomach. Probably best to wait it out. Though one thing is certain, you owe it to Soap and Gaz…

Few Months After Eliminating General Ghorbani

Ghost’s POV

Recently Ghost was just filling out paperwork, having to write down everything that happened per week for higher ups to see from different points of view. Gaz had gone back to his original base, working to get some intel and Soap, he knew he’d be returning tonight. Felt like everyone had gone their own way. Just the thought of how everyone seemed to slowly fade away made Ghost tense. First you, then Gaz, then Soap, and Price. He knew they’d return but the idea he was surrounded by no one he trusts made it hard. A part of him would never blatantly say it out loud but, the minute you left there was nothing holding them together now. Metaphorically you were the chip on a glass cup that kept everyone together, the minute you fell off the rest soon cracked.

During your absence, he would never admit, he spent every opportunity dwelling on his words to you. He wondered if you hated him so much that you turned on them all because of his choice of words. He felt like a bloody idiot for saying them. The only reason he said it, he had hoped to cut his own feelings for you. It was never to doubt your abilities. Far from it, he knew what an asset you were to the team. Besides your bubbly personality and calmness during tense times you were a skilled fighter. He seen you take down a man not as big as himself, but fairly tall as Soap and you easily had the man struggling to keep up having the man shift to a defense stance. You were a sight when in a fight. In fact it was almost alarmingly attractive to Ghost seeing a women so lean yet small hold your own. The image of you from that night often played in his mind, it was torturous. He can hear how you moaned out his name, arching your back from the immense pleasure and begging him to keep going and give you more. It’s been 5 months…5 long grueling months and not a minute of breather. It’s hard to believe how much he needed your presence, how you kept him sane when not out in the field, in his zone. Sometimes he wondered how he would cope with the life of mundane lively hood. Were you living such ? Knowing what you know and have seen out in the world, did you forget it all ? Did you let your guard down ?

That’s when other thoughts, ones he absolutely hated crossed his mind. Did you find someone ? Probably by now, no doubt in his mind you found a bloody bloke who is a lucky bastard to have such a fearless yet regal women. The mere thought of you walking hand in hand with a man who probably could never protect you as well as you could yourself. But no, the idea that HE wasn’t the one protecting you even though you weren’t a damsel in distress. The urge to always protect you in the field was natural instincts for him. He didn’t realize he was gripping his pen tightly until it snapped. Looking at the broken piece of plastic he let go pushing back from his chair simply looking at his hands.

For years, since he was a mere teenager, he only saw himself capable of fighting. Then when he became a soldier all he could think about was killing. Yet when you joined the taskforce and he had himself between your legs, he could see he could perhaps also be gentle. You brought that innocent Simon Riley out of him, the boy who couldn’t fight against his father’s abuse. Couldn’t stand up for his mother when his father was a drunken state. Yet you, you reminded him that he was very much Ghost and Simon. His hands could touch your perfectly smooth skin gently tracing every inch of you, getting the most pleasurable reaction he ever heard. Yet he could also be rough just enough to send you over the edge and begging, clawing him for more.

Grumbling to himself, he pulls out his packet of cigarettes, grabbing one. Lifting his mask just over his nose, he then put the wrapped piece in his mouth then lighting it. He took a drag before puffing out the smoke, the nicotine hitting him hard as he shut his eyes. He did everything in his power to find a way to look to where you were. But even with his rank, he was limited to much. Couldn’t access the full extent to your file as most of your information was black. Not as covered as his but enough for him to be annoyed with because he bloody couldn’t stand he didn’t know where you were if you’re still alive and how he can contact you. This was an annoying addiction that drove him crazy. Where the fuck were you ?

Gaz POV

Honestly seeing the number pop up on his screen while he was in his bunker on a base near London he frowned at bit. It was his personal phone yet only few people could access it since it was a secured number that could not be traced. So he answered “Ello ?” waiting for a response he almost thought it was someone playing a practical prank on him until he heard a soft familiar voice “Hey Kyle…”, you. He was utterly stunned, his throat felt tight and his heart beating hard. “The fuck…y/n ?” you let out a tired laugh as he felt his heart flutter. “Yeah, it’s me silly. How are you ?” you seemed shy, but the same soft spoken as ever. He didn’t know how long he must’ve been silent but it obviously must’ve made you question “Kyle ? You still alive there bud ?” he snorts “Yeah Yeah, I’m just…wow. I’m shocked if I’m honest. How about you ?” you sigh a bit, he could hear you sounded exhausted. Were you not sleeping ? “I’m doing alright…just tired. I- I just missed you. How is everyone ?Been on a lot of missions since ?” he smiled, you were so motherly, he swear his mother would love to know you had reached out to him… in honesty you two knew each other well. Gaz had brought you once to meet his mother during the holidays and she took a liking to you immediately. His mother would always joke about how you were the daughter she always asked for. “Yeah…I’m actually in London working on getting some Intel. I haven’t heard much from Price. Sure the old man out smoking a cigar on a hunting trip. Soap and I keep in contact…Ghost, well haven’t heard much from him honestly. He isn’t much a talker. Oh ! My mam wants to see you again one day ! She was worried when I told her you left.” He could hear you humming as you listened to his update. “Aw, well I’d love to see her again…actually…if your free sometime, I’m sure your mission is important but I’d love to meet you up some time.” He smiles at this “Yeah ? Say where and when.” He chuckles and he holds his breath hearing you laugh. It was airy, he can’t believe how much his missed your energy “Alright, well I’d love to have you over from some tea at my place. Just let me know when you can come by.” He perked up at this. He never been to your place, in fact you seemed very secretive about showing it. He never asked why, so he always volunteered to take you to his place. “Id love that Hera.” He smirked saying your call sign, he can already imagine you grinning “Ah good old days, unfortunately not much of Hera anymore. I don’t think I ever can honestly…” he frowned at this, he wondered if that’s why you resigned from the task force. In fact thinking about it you seemed exhausted, your voice wasn’t as chirpy like you used to be. You seemed out of breath with a few sentences. Were you ill ? “Are…are you ill ?” he asks hesitantly. He huff softly from your side “No…not exactly. It’s complicated, but I promise when we meet I’ll explain. Not like I could hide it anyways.” He now was more curious…did you secretly get sent off on a mission and got seriously hurt ? Were you that ill, you had to resign ? “Well, actually, I’m free today if you are ?” he looks at his clock. It was 06:20, you still were just an early riser as he was. “That would be great. I’ll text you my address. See you soon Gaz.” He can imagine you smiling, as he smiles too “Yeah, see you soon Hera.”

Taglist : @the-reality-of-my-life , @kat-nee , @wwe1rdc0re , @saturnknows , @stalyxysh ,@avatarislife4ever,@ayesha-fish , @sae1kie ,@longing-for-the-past-times,@daisyfrubies,@sailorneotunemivhiru,@ra-im , @maflor123 ,@i-love-ptv

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[willesgaywrath]

Simon can’t believe, sometimes, that he gets to have this—university, an internship he actually likes in the music industry, friends close enough to visit between work and school. (Close enough to make it to Wille’s birthday dinner tonight and insist on singing to him in the restaurant, much to his lighthearted embarrassment.)

Simon can’t believe he gets moments like these, like snapshot flashes of clarity, that make him so fucking grateful that he held on to this, that they put up a fight, that they made it. Even though things have been tumultuous between Wille and his family since he’d abdicated, Wille’s just turned 20 in spite of it, has rebuilt a life he’s proud of.

(And Simon’s so proud of him.)

It’s quiet dawns under the covers where Simon looks at Wille sleeping and just keeps falling and falling and falling. It’s the way Wille makes coffee every morning because he claims he does it better, but really, Simon knows it’s because he likes to be helpful.

It’s now, walking down city streets back to their apartment after a nice evening with friends, when Wille’s a teeny bit buzzed like he sometimes gets. (He’ll have a few drinks and Simon won’t. Simon's only rule is that he’s not carrying him home—and Wille maybe leans a little more into him, arm slung affectionately around his shoulder, but Wille’s never broken that promise.)

Wille shakes the hair out of his eyes—it’s started to get a little longer, curls up a bit at the edges—and laughs at his own joke.

It almost knocks Simon off-kilter, the way he kind of loves Wille like this, loves him all the time—but especially when those big, honey-brown doe-eyes are all unguarded and sincere. Wille’s a teddy bear when he drinks, content to sober up in Simon’s arms, to tuck tired kisses against his jaw. (He’ll definitely doze off tonight halfway through the movie he’d picked, but it’s been a long day.) Simon loves it like he loves the sweet, warm, early-evening breeze, and the freckles that come out in droves across Wille’s skin in the summer.

And of course Wille was born in the summer—he belongs in the sunshine. He’s sunshine, and he’s smiling with teeth, and he’s all golden every time a streetlight flickers to life, recounting a story that it definitely sounds like he’s misremembering. Simon looks up—because he still has to look up at him—with so much fondness, and he lets Wille talk, however impossible Wille’s stream of consciousness is to follow, because he’ll never get tired of listening.

Simon doesn’t actually say anything of substance until they’re back at their door. The key’s in the lock, and the weather’s going to be nice enough for the lake on Sunday, and, “oh, I need to return Linda’s call”—and Simon is so in love.

And yes, yes, okay Wille said no gifts, but—“Hey, um.” Simon flicks on the hallway light. “There’s actually one more thing.” It’s been hidden in the pocket of a winter coat for a month and a half. Now Simon’s hiding it nervously behind his back.

Wille blinks a bit unsteadily, midway through toeing his shoes off. His eyes fall on Simon’s posture; something soft flickers in them. “I thought we said no birthday presents.”

Simon snorts a laugh. “We did—and then you still got me concert tickets for mine, remember?”

“But that doesn’t count because—“ Wille cuts himself off because there’s a black, rectangular box cradled in Simon's hands. “Simon.” It’s like a warning, that tone, but he takes a step closer. Then two. And then his eyes are searching Simon’s face.

Simon bites his lip, bites back a grin. “It wasn’t that expensive, before you say anything.” Expensive is relative—but Simon’s been thinking about this for a long, long time. And now he actually has the means to do something about it, so. “Open it.”

Slowly, like the contents might break, Wille takes it from his hands and thumbs over the black velvet for a second before he pops it open. “Simon,” he says again, softer. Wille’s lips part like he wants to say something else, but he shuts his mouth and swallows, touching the metal with gentle fingertips.

It’s a plain silver chain—thick enough to be considered masculine but delicate enough to be him.

Simon rocks forward on the balls of his feet. He shouldn’t be nervous because he’d been, like, 99% sure Wille would like it. He’d asked both Rosh and Ayub for advice. He’d asked Felice whether it was too much. But now that Wille’s gone quiet he’s second guessing everything. Wille hasn’t worn a necklace regularly since he stopped wearing the cross. Maybe he doesn’t—

“I love it.” Wille swallows, brows furrowed. “Can you, um—will you—” His voice wavers a bit, but he doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Simon to take the necklace gingerly from his hands and fasten the clasp behind his neck. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything,” Wille says in the general direction of the wall.

“I know,” Simon says quietly, letting his hands linger on Wille’s shoulders and squeezing once before letting go. Neither of them are really the type to want gifts. It’s just—Wille still rubs his chest when he’s anxious, when he panics or wakes up from nightmares. (When, this morning, he’d been confronted with the fact that his mother might not call.)

Maybe it’s dumb, or maybe it isn’t, but Simon wants something there—a tangible reminder that Wille doesn’t have to deal with it alone. He won’t say any of that, though; what he says is, “It suits you.”

But maybe Simon doesn’t actually have to explain it at all for Wille to understand what it means. (I’m not going anywhere; I’m even more in love with you now than I was at 16.) Maybe Wille just knows, because he rests his palm flat against his chest before slipping arms around Simon’s waist. He brushes a kiss against the side of Simon’s head and murmurs, “thank you, älskling.”

(And he never takes the necklace off.)

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#young royals fanfiction #young royals ficlet #wille/simon #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #young royals #simon eriksson #young royals fic #simon x wilhelm

[ticklishraspberries]

Study Strategy (Simon/Wilhelm)

Summary: Living in a dormitory requires a level of quiet that neither Simon nor Wilhelm can accomplish. (This show gets angsty literally right off the bat and I couldn’t handle it anymore, I had to stop and write some fluff to cope. Thank you to my evil friends, @signinandgetkinky and @nhasablogg for telling me to watch this show, you’ve ruined my life. Hope y’all enjoy the fic!!)

“You are allowed to take a break from studying, you know,” Wilhelm says, smirking.

Simon can’t help the fond chuckle he gives in response. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re good at maths.”

“So are you! You just overthink the questions.”

Wilhelm snatches the notebook away before Simon can protest, pushing him back against the bed and laying across his chest, effectively finding a way to both pin him down and cuddle him close.

Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. “Well, if I fail this next test, it will be your fault.”

“Good thing you won’t fail, then.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but Wilhelm is kissing him before he can form any words, and he can’t help but kiss back. It’s risky, kissing at school like this, but they can’t seem to resist the temptation.

After their lips pull apart, Wilhelm doesn’t stop there. He presses kisses to Simon’s cheek, his jaw, his nose. His face flushes, and he’s certain that the prince can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. Normally, he’d be teased about it, but his mouth is rather occupied.

Simon lets out a content hum, hands wrapping around Wilhelm’s waist and holding him even closer. He loves when his boyfriend gets into these touchy-feely moods, wanting to be so near they’re practically joined at the hip. It makes him feel special, wanted.

When the kisses travel down towards his neck, though, he can’t help but squirm, a breathy laugh slipping out.

“Does this tickle?” Wilhelm asks, mischief glinting in his eyes.

Even his breath tickles. How is that even fair? Simon huffs. “You know it does.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Simon never expected Wilhelm to be so playful, so affectionate. He assumed that royals grew up so stiff and strict, but it seems as though the prince’s relationship with Erik was just as playful as he and Sara’s own sibling bond. It’s heart-warming, actually, to imagine Wilhelm as a child, shrieking with joy while being carried on his big brother’s back, not worrying about the family’s legacy or public appearance or one day taking the crown. He certainly hadn’t been worried about a world where his older brother was no longer there to bring a smile to his freckled face.

The sad thought isn’t able to linger, as Wilhelm has taken Simon’s half-assed confirmation as an invitation to continue, each peck of his lips more deliberate, more purposefully ticklish, and Simon can’t help but giggle, heels digging into the mattress.

It’s a soft, steady sound until Wilhelm experimentally nips at the shell of his ear, which makes Simon shriek in the high-pitched way he finds so embarrassing, and it makes them both laugh harder with how ridiculous it is.

“Shhh,” Wilhelm murmurs, nose pressed into the crook of his neck. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then it’ll be entirely your fault,” Simon replies, scrunching his shoulders, trying and failing to protect himself.

And because that simply won’t do, Wilhelm switches tactics and scratches at his belly, making him thrash wildly, burying his face in the other boy’s hair as some attempt at volume control. It doesn’t do much, and reality sets in and reminds them both that while this is all fun and games, the idea of being caught is a very real, very scary thing.

“You’re the worst,” Simon breathes when Wilhelm finally rolls off of him, curling up by his side instead.

Wilhelm grins. “You love it.”

Simon rolls his eyes and sits up to resume studying, and Wilhelm doesn’t snatch his book away again. He just lays next to him, occasionally helping him with equations, but mostly just watching him.

When he does well on the test, Wilhelm whispers that maybe tickles should be his new studying strategy. It makes him blush like mad, but he doesn’t protest the idea.

#wilhelm x simon #wilmon #young royals #young royals fic #young royals ticklefic #young royals tickle fic #ticklefic #tickle fic #raspberry writes

[seeker-of-stories19]

Simon who hates every scar on his body, from his top surgery scars to the Glasgow smile and every other mark between. He doesn’t wear them with honor like so many of the soldiers he knows- doesn’t even feel the slightest bit of pride in what he’s survived.

No his sense of masculinity and self worth was so damaged by his dad that he views each mark on his body as a failure. Too stupid, too weak, too slow, unable to save his mom, unable to save Tommy, unable to save his team from Roba, unable to save himself- even the matching crescents under his pecs that Gaz and Soap had been shocked to learn were quite old, so old it was a miracle he found someone to do the operation at all, don’t bring any kind of positive feeling to him it’s just another reminder of his body fucking failing him.

It breaks Johnny’s heart that he’s so deeply distraught by the marks on his body and he spends a ridiculous amount of time kissing them gently and reminding Simon how beautiful he is. He thinks of the scars completely differently to Simon- a constant reminder that he survived what no one else could.

He hates that someone so precious could’ve been hurt so much but throughout his entire life he survived every one of the horrible violent marks on his body, lived long enough to find him. Sometimes when they’re in bed and Simons in a particularly forgiving mood he kisses the painful pink smile carved crudely into his cheeks and tells him how good he is for waiting for him, for not giving up before they could find each other- tells him he’s brave for surviving everything just so they could meet.

It definitely makes Simon very emotional even if he doesn’t agree.

One day when they’re lounging around Johnny asks him if he has any scars he doesn’t hate and Ghost immediately points to a fairly fresh bullet scar on the outside of his thigh Soap is baffled as to why a random bullet wound, and particularly one that annoyingly knocked him out of commission for a couple weeks, would mean more to him than any of the more significant wounds he’s survived.

Simon just says that he likes it because it was for Johnny and he just sits frozen as Simon adds on that he likes all the scars he got protecting Johnny- those are the only ones that mean anything to him.

It’s something he thinks about a lot in the following months but he never expects that after Makarov he’ll wake up in a civilian hospital with Ghost pressed against his side, cradling his head as gently as possible and pressing kisses against his bandaged temple as he cries, apologizing profusely the whole time for not being fast enough.

Apologizing for not taking the bullet for Soap.

Soap can’t talk and can barely move at the time but he doesn’t forget those words even when everything else from that period blurs together.

When he’s finally released and honorably discharged with various medals he’s shocked when Simon tentatively brings up the incident with Makarov and asks him if he can forgive him, if he’ll still have him even though he couldn’t protect him. It’s absolutely insane to him that Ghost could even ask because they all know what they signed up for but the last thing Simon has ever done is not protect him.

Throughout his entire recovery the man was with him every day, his family had visited often as had Price and Gaz but no one had protected him like Simon. From the pity and discouragement and from himself. When the doctors said he’d never walk again he’d been crushed but Simon had just rolled his eyes and given him a look like ‘can you believe this guy?’ And it had been walking toward him clutching the rails for dear life in the PT room that he took his first steps into this new life.

Last night when he’d whispered into the dark of the hospital room his deepest insecurities that he’ll never be the same, that he might need help for the rest of his life Ghost hadn’t even hesitated before shrugging that it didn’t matter if he needed help because he would always be there if he did.

And now he was asking permission to rest after a lifetime spent in the trenches he was asking for gentleness and a life with him- most people would never understand the significance of that moment but from Simon it means more than a proposal ever could.

When they go home to his Glasgow flat together he sits on the couch while Ghost does the heavily lifting moving his things in alone and it takes everything in him not to cry when he pulls his shirt off to wipe some sweat away from his eyes with a tired smile before going back to work, pale skin flexing in the light, scars as much a sign of strength as his massive muscles.

When he’s done he makes them both coffee and settles into his side while Soap contemplates how to approach the idea he’s been mulling over for the last hour. Instead of bringing it up he reaches for the pen on the coffee table and starts sketching a slightly messy arrangement of flowers onto Simons upper arm opposite the tattoo sleeve.

He tries to pour all his affection and gratitude and love into each shaky stroke and line of the pen against his partners skin. Simon just hums contentedly, it’s not the first time they’ve done it and it won’t be the last but this is different than the little bar of soap and the Scottish thistle and little stars he’d sketched along the top of the unfinished sleeve Simon had got tattooed so long ago.

“S’ looks nice Johnny, spending a lot of time on it” he murmurs and Soap just bites his lip in concentration as he nods “Want this one to last” he admits as he adds another detail to one of the leaves in response as Simon lets out a surprised grunt. Sure he’s got several of Johnnys little doodles inked onto him permanently but it’s all random stuff and he’s certainly never asked Simon for this before or designed anything with the intention of it being a tattoo.

“Why this?” Simon asks confusedly and he briefly pauses with the pen “Cause you like the scars from saving me,” he blurts out like it hadn’t been an offhand conversation over a year ago “and in the hospital you apologized for not taking this bullet for me but you were wrong because you saved me from it in every way that coulda mattered- did so well mo ghràidh, you deserve a reminder- something pretty for doing so well.”

He’s half embarrassed to have said it and worried he’s overstepping but Simon just shudders and lets out a choked noise he thinks is his name before slumping shakily into his side as he finishes.

He does get it tattooed the next day and his big brown eyes tear up when Johnny kisses the saniderm and tells him again how good and strong and brave he was for protecting him.

It’s nearly a month later that Simon works up the courage to ask Johnny if he can decorate some of the other scars he got for him- to make them pretty. Since Simon is super into the meaning of different flowers and that’s the theme Johnny choose for the first tattoo he sticks with it for all the smaller ones, picking a flower that’s symbolic to how he got each scar.

He’s very careful not to cover the puckered skin at all, instead creating little rings of flowers around bullet holes and Simon gets each of them tattooed. It’s not many compared to the sheer amount of scars he has but the little flashes of color never fail to make Simon blush when he looks in the mirror and Johnny absolutely melts because he never could’ve imagined something so simple could keep Simon from flinching at his reflection.

Of course it reaches a point where all the scars Ghost has from protecting Soap are done, each having their matching flowers and he thinks it’s over.

But then he cuts his finger opening a jar for Soap who’s hands shake slightly and who’s grip is too weak to loosen the lid and when it heals into a thin white line Soap draws a single stem next to it.

And the same happens when he pushes an angry chihuahua off a terrified Soap and the dog doesn’t like his skull half mask, biting his ankle.

The tattoos draw attention to the scars Simon doesn’t hate and they stand out from the black and grey ones he’d had done in the military.

One day a few years into their marriage when Simon is working at his flower shop while Soap paints in the studio upstairs a young woman buying flowers for her friend asks him about the ring of small blue forget me nots looped around a circle of puckered pink flesh on his bicep where his shirt has ridden up. He proudly tells her that the scar is where he took a bullet for his husband and that Soap had drawn the flowers around each of the scars he got protecting him.

The woman tears up a bit at the story but it’s nothing to how Soap dissolves into silent tears in the stairway when he hears Simon share the story behind the markings with pride in his voice because he hadn’t ever though that was in the cards for him with how he talked about himself prior to the tattoos.

And it just hits him in that moment that they truly made it out in a way that so many who make it out on paper never manage. They’ve built this life together from the ashes of something difficult to even think about and it doesn’t fix any of the horrible things that were done to Simon but they made it out and they were safe now.

Most importantly he has made something Simon thinks is beautiful not only out of their life but out of the mess of gnarled scars on his skin.

He did that.

And Simon is a little confused by his clinginess that night but he absolutely melts into it as Johnny kisses each cluster of brightly colored flowers decorating his skin.

#call of duty #trans ghost #soapghost headcannons #mw3 #soap cod #cod #soapghost #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #tattoo and flower shop au #scars

[burbur-49]

Scarred Love - Chapter Seven: Sun And Moon

a/n: finally got some motivation and finished it, enjoy <3

Word count: 1,516

Cw: Ghoap x f!reader, soulmates, talk about scars, tiny mention if kidnapping[in a joking way] (Tell me if I missed any)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8~ Masterlist

Soulmates. You have them. They’re yours. All yours. How is this real? The happiness flowing throughout your body has made you energetic. The boys have taken you to a café to celebrate. Your entire body is still except for your mind and your leg that won't stop bouncing with adrenaline. You still can’t believe it’s real.

Johnny must be able to feel how the adrenaline is pulsing throughout your body with the way his hand is placed on your knee. You can tell he’s feeling the same way by the giddy smile on his face. Simon gets up to get your drinks once they’re ready, and when he’s back, he places your latte in front of you and Johnny’s mocha frappé in front of the two of you.

“I don’t think the two of you need any more serotonin in your systems.” He says with a huff as he places his own drink down; Earl Grey tea.

“We’re jus’ happy, ye’ big oaf.” You laugh at Johnny’s words.

The three of you spend a bit talking about small, mundane things before the topic of family is brought up. Oh no, you forgot that you had to meet their families… And they have to meet yours. Your family isn’t a big fan of them. All your family knows (thinks) is that your soulmate(s) didn’t give two shits about you and caused you a bunch of pain. That’s half true, they didn’t care about you because they didn’t know you were hurting with them, they didn’t know you existed. 

You can see it now; your mother red in the face, on verge of tears, a mix of joy and a mix of resentment, your father sitting on the couch acting like they don’t exist, keeping himself from yelling at them, your older sister looking at them with a look of jealousy and trying to figure out a way to steal them from you even though her soulmate is right next to her, the poor girl is so sweet, your younger brother wondering if the same will happen to him, but with two women, for the rest of the family; you can only imagine.

“Lass? Lass?” You’re pulled out of your train of thought by Johnny tapping your shoulder and calling for you. “Lass, you okay?”

“Yea… Just worried about the two of you meeting my family is all.” Johnny notices the truth behind your words by the sigh you let out and wraps an arm around you.

“Don’t worry Lass, me and Si can handle ourselves, right Si?”

“Right.” He huffs out.

You let out a sigh, “I believe you guys can handle yourselves, I do. It’s just that my family doesn’t exactly have… Nice opinions of the two of you…”

“Not nice opinions like how?” Simon says with a cocked eyebrow.

“Well…. They think you’re self-centered assholes who don’t give two shits about your soulmate and want to cause as much harm as possible to them.” The boys let out low whistles in response.

“Tha's no good…” Johnny mutters under his breath. “Could ye elaborate, Lass?”

You take in a deep breath, “I'm gonna say their hatred towards the two of you stem from the fact that not only was I born with a couple of scars, I continued getting small ones while I was little,” You hear Simon say something under his breath, you think he might've said “Curse that old bastard.”, “And between the ages of eight and now is when the scars and physical pain increased. I was badly bedridden for quite a bit.”

You can see the gears turning in both Johnny and Simon's head. What are they thinking about?

“Luvie, how old are you?” 

You look at Simon as he speaks to you, realizing you've never told either of them your age, and vice versa.

“I'm twenty-one, why, how old are the two of you?” Your curiosity is peaked, how old are the two men you're supposed to spend the rest of forever with?

Johnny sighs, “I'm twenty-six and Si's thirty-one.”

“Oh, that’s not that bad, only a 5 and ten year difference.” You say with a giggle.

“Yer still a kid.” Simon huffs out, which you take offense to, “I am not a kid. I can drink, drive, smoke, and vote, thank you.” You say, the attitude heavily present in your voice.

“A kid can do all that with a fake ID.” He counters, “Yer brain won’t fully develop ‘til yer twenty-five.”

You dramatically gasp at his response. The audacity of this man, “Then by that logic, Johnny’s brain just recently fully developed.” You snap back.

“Johnny’s a doofus, but the horrors of war matured him.” Johnny takes playful offense to Simon calling him a ‘doofus’.

The horrors of war, you might not have seen them, but you sure as hell felt them. The proof is literally etched into your skin by the hundreds of scars that are littered all over your body. A large one on your ass cheek for god’s sake, the recovery for that one was hell; you were either constantly standing or laying on your stomach. You couldn’t sit for weeks. It’s debatable what’s worse; seeing and feeling what’s happening to your body as it’s happening, or not knowing what’s happening, just being in pain. You don’t know what horrors they’ve seen, what plagues their mind, memories, and even dreams.

You sigh, you’re not going to argue and be stubborn, as much as you want to, you know whatever counterargument they have could easily prove you wrong or start an argument. So, you decide to use pure fact against them.

“Actually, due to brain metabolism, a woman’s brain develops three years faster than a man’s. Meaning, by next year my brain will be fully developed, and you guys know what horrors caused your scars, I don’t. I don’t know why I have a bunch of ragged lines and bullet wounds littered throughout my body. This may seem like an excuse or guilt trip of sorts, but it’s not. It’s just facts.” You say with a sigh.

Johnny and Simon just look at you, and it dawns on them that you were ten when Simon was eighteen, fourteen when Price recruited him for Task Force 141. Nineteen, with terrible scars that only multiplied when you were sixteen and Johnny twenty-four, a year into his military work and being recruited to the 141. Your scars only got worse and more visible, but instead of detesting the two who had caused you so much harm, you had walked up to them and spoke to them so shyly, thinking they wouldn’t believe you.

The strange silence is interrupted by a call you get, it’s from Eve. Holy crap, you forgot to call her. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. You look at the boys.

“Hey, this is important, I gotta take this. Do you mind if I take it at the table?”

“Go ahead.” They say in unison.

You sigh and answer the call, not too sure how Eve’s going to react, “Hello?”

“Girl! Why haven’t you called or texted me? I’ve been worried you got kidnapped!” She fussed, “It wouldn’t be hard…. Those two are freaking huge…” She mutters under her breath.

“I haven’t been kidnapped.” You respond with what seems like a sigh mixed with a giggle, your response makes Johnny and Simon raise their eyebrows, “I’m actually a legal step below being married and have full citizenship in Great Britain now.” After you say this you instinctively pull the phone away from your ear expecting her to happily squeal.

“Oh my god! You’ve found your soulmates!” She squeals out loudly, just as you expected her to. You can hear all types of giggles and congratulations from your other friends that are in the room with her, “You have to send us a picture of them!” She happily suggests.

You look over to Simon and Johnny before asking them, “My friends want to see a picture of the two of you, could I take and send one?”

You get an affirmative gruff from Simon, “Only if ye set it as yer lock screen after.” Johnny says with a grin, which you take as a yes.

You quickly pull up your camera app and position the camera correctly, “Say cheese.” You ring out playfully. Johnny smiles, pearly whites on full display, and Simon does smile, you can’t see his mouth from under the black surgical mask he’s wearing, but you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. You quickly take the picture and send it to your friend’s group chat.

The other line of the phone is silent for what seems like forever before you get a response, “Ho-ly Hell they are good-looking. They compliment each other so well, like the sun and the moon. You can be their Earth, their bringer of life.” Eve says with a giggle.

“Oh my god, ew. I’m hanging up.” You said with a giggle before hanging up the phone.

“So…. Kidnapping, pictures, and bringing life… Interesting topics…” Simon chides.

Taglist:

@under-the-dirt @littlebluespoon @actuallyhiswife @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @cdej6 @whynotbad @kaoyamamegami @oooof-ifellforyou @aldis-nuts @fanngirl19 @zealouspursecowboydeputy

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #ghost x female reader #soulmates #Scarred Love

[cod-dump]

A Bit Too Much

Third and final part

@anothermeforcompany @dark-entity-requests-possession @crazies-unanimous @thebeanofdoom

___

Soap woke in medical with no knowledge of how he got there. His face burned along with his hands and feet, his hands being red when he looks at them. A nurse walked in and seemed pleased to see him awake.

"There you are, Sergeant. How are you feeling?"

”Feels like my face was set on fire… How did I get here?”

”Lieutenant Riley found you outside and brought you here. You have some frostbite but thankfully it’s not that serious and in a week or so you should be good as new.”

Soap’s mind blanked after the nurse told him Ghost brought him here. He heard her words but he wasn’t listening, instead staring in one direction. How did Ghost find him? How did he come across him? No one knew where he went when he left… Or at least he thinks no one knew. In truth he wasn’t exactly paying attention when he ran out.

Price came down to medical not long after the nurse looks over Soap to make sure he’s alright. The look on his face made Soap want to disappear entirely. The concern written on his face, his eyes sad and gentle. He took a chair and sat next to the bed, taking his hat off and putting it in his hands before directing Soap.

”Gaz told me about the conversation you two had.”

Soap tenses in response to this. Price takes a breath before speaking again.

”Son… I know some of your background. That you don’t come from the best home life. That you haven’t been contact with any of your family for the past eight years.”

Soap looks away, “Bad son, huh?”

”No… You’re not a bad son. You’re not bad at all for separating yourself from people who made you feel the way you do.”

Soap felt a ache in his chest when Price said that. He continued to stare ahead of him, not looking at his captain when he felt tears well up.

”You did a good job about hiding your pain, John. A real good job. Too good, even.”

”What does that mean for me?” Soap manages to choke out.

”The obvious: Therapy.”

Soap blinks and turns to Price, “Therapy?”

”I have access to your medical records. You have never received therapy in the twenty-six years you’ve been on this earth. And I know you’ll benefit from it.”

”So, ship me off and have me see a shrink?”

”Ship you- John, you’re not going anywhere.”

Soap felt relief hit him hard at those words, “I’m not?”

”No, you’re not. Even if you were going somewhere, it would be a cold day in hell before I sent you back to Scotland. Those people… They’re not good for you.”

Soap swallows hard and Price reaches over and takes one of his red hands. He rubs his thumb over the back of Soap’s knuckles rather than squeezing his hand. Considering the condition of his hands, squeezing most likely wouldn’t be a good idea.

”You should talk with Simon.”

Soap tenses and turns quickly to Price, “What? I can’t!”

”Soap… What happened was a misunderstanding. He’s been worried out of his mind since he found you in the training grounds. I had to force him to leave you.”

Soap’s mind screamed that that wasn’t true. That Ghost didn’t want to see him, that he didn’t care. But Price doesn’t lie about things like that.

”I won’t force you to talk to him. But… for his and your sake, at least tell him what happened and why you left. He needs to hear it from you.”

Soap was silent and Price didn’t force him to say anything. Eventually he left with a warm pat to his shoulder. Soap was cleared to leave medical an hour afterwards. He trudged through the halls, his feet aching as he walked. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye, and everywhere he looked someone was staring at him.

He marched straight to his room and locked himself inside. Hearing from both Gaz and Price that Ghost cared about him. That he was genuinely worried about him and is upset that he just ran off—

Soap feels tears go down his face.

He doesn’t even make it to his bed. He just lays on the floor and cries. Guilt wrecked him. The first time someone cared about him, saw him as a friend… And he just left him without a word. Of course when God finally sends him someone like that his way he throws them to the side.

Soap curls in on himself, his mind going back to the sewer pipe and the freezing cold. That felt more of an appropriate place for him than in a nice, warm room.

Soap jerks when someone knocks on his door. He silences his cries and just listens, not saying a word.

”Johnny?”

Soap shakes, heart aching at the sound of Ghost’s voice. After another moment of silence Ghost knocks again, his voice so low and gentle that Soap almost didn’t hear him.

”Johnny, I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

The voice almost sounded like it didn’t belong to the infamous Ghost. Soap let’s out a heavy breath, clearing his throat before he said anything.

”Go away, Ghost.”

”You know I can’t do that.”

”Yes you can.”

”Alright, let me rephrase that: I won’t do that.”

Soap looks to the door and the shadow of Ghost on the other side. He doesn’t make a move to go towards it. He just stays put in the middle of the room. After a minute Soap hears Ghost shuffle before he leans against the door, sitting on the other side.

”I’ll stay here as long as it takes.”

Soap laughed quietly, laying back down so he could look under the door and see a glimpse of Ghost’s figure. He continues to not speak but Ghost doesn’t say anything about it. He just starts talking.

”Never realized how dull life is without you around. How whatever someone else says just sounds like nothing. And all I can think is that I… I wonder where you are…”

Soap tears up, Ghost continuing to speak.

”I thought I fucked up. Thought I did something to make you upset. Said something wrong and caused you to leave.”

The pain in Ghost’s voice stuck out to Soap. He sits up and slowly stands as Ghost continues to speaking his mind.

”I thought I lost you. You wouldn’t stick around long enough for me to be able to apologize. I didn’t want to chase after you because I know that would’ve only made things worse.”

Soap now stood next to the door, pressing his forehead against it with tears streaming down his face.

”Been an ass to everyone. I know I shouldn’t have been but losing you hurt. It fucking hurt and I was so angry. I wanted to just—“

Ghost obviously couldn’t find the words to describe how he felt and just made a frustrated groan. Soap’s eyes widened when he heard what sounded like a sob from the other side of the door.

”I just want you back…”

Soap unlocks the door and opens it, staring down at Ghost who turned and stared back. The man stands, and sure enough he had tears in his red eyes. Soap wipes some of his own tears.

”I thought you didn’t want me…”

”Johnny, you’re all that I can think about.”

Soap sobs out and he hugs Ghost, the man wrapping his arms around him without hesitation. Soap can’t hold back his tears and apparently neither can Ghost. Ghost picks him up and steps inside Soap’s room, closing the door behind them. Soap clings to the larger man, wrapping his arms around his neck and refusing to let go.

Ghost holds him, face buried in the crook of Soap’s neck. Soap could feel his tears on his skin, feel him shake with sobs. Finally, Soap pulls away, Ghost reluctantly letting him go. Soap steps back looks up at Ghost, his hands going up and taking hold of his face mask. Ghost does nothing to stop him as he removes the mask, dropping it to the floor before he cups Ghost’s face.

”I thought I was bothering you. All my life people have told me that I’m too much to handle.”

Ghost laughs and holds his hands over Soap’s, “Then how come I can’t get enough of you?”

Soap breaks at that and resumes crying. Soap accepts Ghost leaning in, welcomes his warm lips pressing against his. Ghost cradles his face like he’s the most precious thing in the world, kissing him so soft and full of the adoration and affection that Soap had been seeking all his life.

Ghost pulls away just enough so he can speak, “I love you, Johnny. So much.”

Soap smiles through tears, “I love you, too, Si. God, I love you, too.”

Ghost pulls him back into a hug. Soap melted against him, letting himself be consumed by his warmth and the love that he’s been wanting all his life.

#took a screenshot of the ask cuz I already had a bunch written when i got it #a bit too much #call of duty #modern warfare ii #ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #ghostsoap #fic #fanfic