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cheezbites · 7 months

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Dating Ghost Part 2

︵‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

✎: Part one’s my blog with the most notes, so I’ll give you guys a part two<3!!

♡Summary: Wholesome headcanons of dating Ghost PT.2

Bf!Ghost is an extremely light sleeper. His time in the army caused him to be on guard 24/7, even when he’s asleep. Slightest movement or sound? he’s grunting himself awake. Every once in a while, you’d have nightmares. Some more scarier than the others - but the one you had this night was unlike any other - it felt all too real, traumatising and daunting. You jolted yourself awake and steadied a hand to your shaky chest to regulate your breathing, a few uncontainable tears trickling down your face.

You unknowingly twisted and turned in the midst of your unpleasant dream, so the moment you woke up Simon was already conscious. He has a concerned and worried expression etched onto his face; he caringly held both arms out to coo soft reassurances into your ear as he planted soft kisses on your temples. He didn’t need to know anything else, the moment he spotted any pain was the moment he became your personal shoulder to cry on.

He held you close in his arms whilst he stroked your hair - making you fall asleep ten times faster. Simon found himself having a better time sleeping with your comforting figure in his hold, too. So if you’ve got a nightmare and you’re in need of physical reassurance, you’ve already got it without even asking.

Bf!Ghost is a compulsive tea drinker - no big surprise to anyone. He had an urge to drink tea at an ungodly hour, same with you having an uncontrollable thirst, needing to be immediately quenched. Finding no water on your nightstand, you cursed yourself under your breath before drowsily entering the kitchen.

Your fatigue blurred your awareness of your surroundings, making you fail to realise that Simon wasn’t besides you when you stirred yourself awake. You jumped when you entered the kitchen and were met with the kettle faintly churning in the background as Simon was leaning against the countertop, awaiting his boiling water.

“Hello, stranger.” You said, filling a cup with water and greedily chugging it to your heart’s content.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, vaguely smiling, registering the irony of his question.

“I don’t know… why are you awake?” you swiftly rinsed your cup before placing it on the dish rack.

You found yourselves having a brief bantering conversation around the dinner table before heading off to bed. You, with your third glass of water, and Simon, with his savoured cup of black tea.

Bf!Ghost would mutter a distinguishable “Fuckin’ hell,” under his breath whenever something upsetting or irksome happens. Like accidentally spilling juice and so on.

You inattentively dropped a glass, frustratedly clenching your fists to your sides, a “Fuckin’ hell..!” reflexively flew past your lips before you knew it. You didn’t even realise it in the moment, but Simon did. He just stood there for a moment, like he was confirming if it actually happened - and when he finally did, he heartily chuckled to himself before infinitely teasing you about it. From that point on, “Fuckin’ hell” was now your guys’s inside joke.

Bf!Ghost enjoyed the little things with you. He loved your occasional walks at late noon or night (sometimes when it rains) as you both share an AirPod. It’s like a utopian escape from everything and everyone - nobody is out. It’s just you two, your music and definite love for one another.

Bf!Ghost was an undeniable ass guy. The constant ass grabbing started from a harmless joke you incited. You were behind him as he was walking up the stairs, you couldn’t help but playfully grab his ass and let a, “Nice ass,” slip out.

You never heard (or felt) the end of that.

His hands would constantly be cupping, squeezing or even spanking your ass at times. Depends on how mischievous he’s feeling.

Bf!Ghost is possessive of you in public - not in a red flag way. Planting a sudden passionate kiss on your cheeks or lips when any dude would stare at you, holding your hand or purse for you as you walked down the street, or tying your laces for you. Anything for his princess, really.

Bf!Ghost also loved going on late night drives with you, to do anything or go anywhere - it doesn’t matter. It’s always fun as fuck when it’s just you two and an unplanned drive down any accessible road. Either visit somewhere you’ve been meaning to go or watch the night sky twinkling around the city lights. It never seemed to matter what you did, what did matter was that you were both having a really good time with each other’s comfort.

Bf!Ghost is a really wonderful cook. Outside of fish chips tea and gravy and all that mumbo-jumbo he can cook. Hand him some random seasonings and meats you’ve brought from the market and he’ll have a delicious three course meal prepared in no time. He even lets you try small samples of whatever he’s cooking up by teasingly spoon feeding you.

“Seriously, Simon?” you groaned, darting your gaze between the spoon nearing your lips and his playful expression. He always had a quick smart-mouthed reply to your complaining like, “Say ahhh” or “Aeroplane’s coming, sweetheart,” and you’d contently giggle as you gave in and allowed him to feed you. If there was a minor spill he’d gently pat your face down with a tissue, making you roll your eyes and teasingly nudge him.

And before you knew it, you’d greedily finish whatever he’s allowing you to taste, even when you were meant to have only a teaspoon. He didn’t really mind, though - he took it as a compliment, even, promptly refilling your plate each time you asked for more.

Bf!Ghost took taking care of you really seriously, maybe too serious. He knew all the right medications, techniques and ways of comforting you when you were experiencing any type of discomfort of cold.

He made frequent visits to the pharmacy, daily check ups, nourishing teas and all that good stuff. You felt horrible and nauseous every time you were sick, from your raspy and stuffy voice to the irritating dryness in the back of your throat. At the same time, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world knowing your boyfriend cared and put so much time and effort into you.

Bf!Ghost doesn’t really know how to apologise; it’s just ‘not in his nature’. As much as he hated seeing you all pouty and upset after any mild argument or disagreement, he felt as if he’d somehow manage to fuck up the situation even more by apologising. So, he’d give you your space then make you your favourite beverage, just the way you liked it. (He randomly memorised the oddly specific way you like your tea/coffee), he would make himself a cuppa - he settled your drink in front where you were situated, you were watching some TV show in the living room, your eyes defeatedly lit up as you both endured in a comfortable silence, sipping your beverages as the TV faintly played in the background. You slowly began talking again, like you were rekindling a fire, and before you knew it you were both giggling and chatting away - discarding the unpleasant past and leaving it behind you guys.

But you knew Simon loved you; he didn’t have to express his sorry’s through words. His thought out actions always spoke louder.

PART THREE IS OUT FOR THE GREEDY MFS😋!!

Part One

Soap Version

Price Version

König Version

Gaz Version

Masterlist

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zombieplaygrounds · 27 days

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cw ;; greedy simon x hostess reader, vulgar language

You deserved a soft bed, flowers, a first date. And if Simon was a better man, he would've given you someone slightly more than himself. Someone without blood money in their bank. Perhaps it was greed, lust, love, or all of the above, but he couldn't let you go.

You, his angel, his salvation, in the form of a pretty little hostess sat on his lap, your hands grazing over his biceps, giggling, cooing to him. You certainly knew you what you were doing, but it was okay, dove. He knew how to act too. A large palm grazing the back of your head, tangling in your hair – not tugging he didn't want to pluck his pretty little bird's feathers.

And you liked it. He was certain, based off the way your head tilted back and your eyes would fall to a half lidded extenx. He'd grab the flesh of your hips oh, so gently. Voice rumbling out in a soft pitch, "Poor princess, so tired, aren't you?"

You'd nod that pretty little head of yours, keeping it empty just for him. Simon didn't like his birds too smart, it was risky for his job. And besides, imagining your surprise to his work-related murders was much more fun than actually witnessing it. And he gave you too much money to ever question him. Such a good girl you were.

The thought of your fear, trembling hands and lips, it made him chuckle. Your eyes meeting his once more only for him to shake his head. A kiss to that forehead of yours. A few more kisses and sweet, loving words from quitting the stupid job and being his own personal doll. Would that be so hard? To let him pay your bills in exchange for the occasional bounce on his cock?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon x you #simon x reader #simon mw #cod Simon #zombieplaygrounds #zombieplayground

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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At Her Mercy

Pairing: Simon “ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Summary: you’re needed to help guide the task force 141 group, when you meet ghost, it would tear open your wounds.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mentions of murder, childhood abuse, physical violence, ghosting, heartless reader, typical cod violence, child death, bit of physicality between ghost and reader. Ptsd. No happy ending.

Note: I have a lot of requests and I’m sorry I just have so much Simon brain rot I need to get this out of my system. Sorry this is angsty. May be open for p2 idk lol.

You try not to linger around the grave too long after having sat here for 23 minutes, the longer you sat the longer it usually was harder for you to walk away. You couldn’t afford that attachment today; you had a plane to catch. Time didn’t stop for you, the world didn’t stop spinning and you knew you’d have to trudge through the metaphorical mud you often got stuck in again once you’d left; leaving was always the hardest part.

The clock on your wrist didn’t slow for you, the hands tick with each passing second you spent knelt into the unkempt overgrown grass at the cemetery. The headstone was old, in desperate need of a pressure wash to restore it’s original state. The arch shaped stone seemed to stand strong in the structure itself, your fingers had swiped the cobwebs off the top and base of the stone, clearing any critters that tried to make this memorial their home.

You knew you shouldn’t have purchased a whole bouquet of flowers, the bunch of red and orange flowers sat at the base where you’d carefully placed them upon your arrival, a mix of his favourite colours. You’d even purchased him a small gift, a hot wheels car, a red mustang with white stripes across the bonnet. He had always loved cars, playing with them and working on them; he mentioned a dozen times he’d wanted to be a mechanic, now along side him in his coffin; lie his dreams. A life unfulfilled and cut short at no fault of his own. It had been 10 years and 7 days; December 18th was the day your semi-normal but functioning life was stripped away; the day he was taken from you.

“Sorry I couldn’t come see you last week kid, I know I always make sure but things got-complicated. Hope you’ll forgive me.”

Things were definitely complicated. You were contacted by General Shepherd, you knew of him; being he was in charge of several units across the United States Military, including your section. He had a lot of contacts and if you worked for him; there was nothing about you he didn’t know. He directly had asked you to come and command the task force 141 team, alongside a man named Captain John Price.

“John Price is a good man and a damn good Captain.” Shephard stated, hanging off his last word on the laptop he’d called you on, his face could barely look at the camera.

“But?” You question impatiently.

“We fear he may’ve gone soft on the men here. We could use your..” he trails off, looking for the right word to use. “Resourcefulness and ruthlessness.”

“Do you think I’m ruthless, General?” You deadpan. His face pixilated as the wifi on your end fails to keep up.

“I’ve heard many a stories about you, Captain. Plane leaves in two days. John Price will meet you upon your arrival.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in touch General.” You shut your laptop screen, the call automatically ending as it meets the keypad.

You check your watch once more, the action becoming more frequent as the minutes passed, knowing you were cutting it close to missing the plan which left in half an hour to your new workplace.

“Sorry kid I better get going. I miss you everyday, still keep you near to my heart.” Your fingers trace the small ‘m’ letter necklace, the simple silver letter was attached to a small-link chain. Something that spent more time by your bedside table than around your neck these days-something you were ashamed to admit. The small trinket was one of the few items you owned of his, you tried to keep his memory alive as your brain often forgot what he looked like, the sound of his voice and laugh. The day you received this gift was one you’d remember until you died. You pull your mask up to cover the bottom half of your face, reaching underneath your eyes, closing yourself off and your vulnerability.

Christmas Day was always hectic in the household; spending time with your husbands family, his brother and wife, your nephew who was practically your own son.

“Hey, hey! I give up, put me down!” The boy giggled through his fit of laughter, short brown hair brushing the floor as you held him upside down.

“Gotta say the word otherwise you don’t tap out!” You manage through your own burst of laughter, his parents watching on with their own smiles, your husband watches you with a fondness and hope for your own children someday.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The boy squeals, finally. You set him down on the carpet gently, once he stands his cheeks are red and freckles are visible now more than normal.

He walks to the heavily decorated Christmas tree, bends down and precisely plucks a small, messily wrapped gift and hands it to you with a shy smile. The yellow Christmas lights shine in his blue eyes as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to accept the gift. The first thing you notice is the outrageous amount of tape that secured the wrapping paper, the second was his messy hand writing that had scribbled your name, with a love heart next to his, you tear off the note and secure it in your pant pocket, too valuable not to keep.

“Do you think you can help me open it? I might need your big muscles to help unravel all this tape. Whaddya say?” He grins, nodding, helping you claw at the tape he had fervently taped last night after his parents had finally lent him some money he’d been begging for weeks.

Once the paper is gone, it’s exposed. The small white cardboard top that covered a black velvet box; the brand of a well known jeweller splayed in a cursive font on the box in silver. “This is so sweet!” You hum, completely delighted before you get the chance to even open the gift.

“Just wait till you open it! I think it’s neat.” He boasts proudly. You open the box, a small silver letter ‘m’ shines back at you, casting your reflection in the cursive letter. Before you can question him, he’s already starting to explain.

“It’s for Mercy, it’s something that reminds me of you when you’re not here. We always have so much fun playing together and I hope you like it.”

The tears in your eyes are fluent, your mouth is wet as you fill to the metaphorical brim of the cup with emotion, about to overflow. “Like it? Are you kidding, I love it. I promise we’ll come see you more often okay?”

“Yeah, that would be so neat!”

The memory replays as you’re sitting in the taxi to the Military airport, a junction that’s privately owned and used by few occupants that require urgent travel. The plane is being boarded with flight crew when you arrive; the army plane was one of many you’ve seen before; the dark grey would be a blip in the perfectly blue sky, like the little boy on your mind; his absence was your loss; your dark grey blip.

“Captain, please, let us take care of your luggage. Board the plane swiftly as we are on time and due to depart in 10 minutes.” You offload your giant luggage bag to a low ranking worker, his uniform clear indication he was what the higher ups call a shitkicker, or rookie. They were generally to stupid-or immature to be anything more than a servant, someone to fetch and do basic physical training until they were filtered out; booted or into the military as a low ranking soldier.

“Thanks kid.” You offer the younger man, kindness wouldn’t hurt with the rookies, you’ve been there and were there for two years-they were a necessity in the industry, without them there would be no new soldiers, no people to do the dirty work, like cleaning the toilets and washing the bedsheets.

The inside of the plane was nothing fancy, while it’s seats were mildly stiff and there was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke you didn’t complain, it was better than being seated where the low ranking soldiers were strapped, in the back of the aircraft with the luggage and whatever cargo they were shipping to the next location.

“Anything to drink, madam?” You look up to meet the eyes of a tired stuartess.

“Got any whiskey?” She nods politely and you pull the plastic tray down that’s attached to the seat in front.

“How would you like that made madam?” She’s pouring from a glass bottle, by the look of the honey coloured liquid, it was expensive.

“On the rocks, prepare me a second. Better make it a double.” You grab the drink, throwing it back and swallowing it in one go, the bitterness burned going down your throat, followed by tones of malt and honey.

You hand the glass back to the middle aged woman, she prepares you a double as you ask and you set the cup in front of you.

“If you need our assistance please don’t hesitate to ask, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Your voice is rough, the whiskey was harsh on your throat, despite the sweet after taste, it was harsher than you were used to, the ice adding a coolness that made your teeth sensitive with every sip of the liquid.

You pull out a small baggie from your top right pocket of your dark uniform, two small white rounded pills sit at the bottom of the small ziplock plastic bag. You fish out the pills, your fingers a decent size too big for it to be an effortless task. Getting disgruntled and sick of waiting another minute, you tip the baggie upward and crane your neck back into the seat, the two pills falling from the bag onto your tongue. The powdery residue on your tongue is bitter and unpleasant, you don’t take another second to pick up your glass and swallow the pills.

After a few years of using the sleeping pills, you’ve gained a small tolerance, it takes close to 15 before your eyelids start fluttering, the loudness of the aircraft starts to drown out, all the emotion from the gravesite seems to fade away as you fall out of consciousness, you would enjoy the peace as it came; no nightmares, no pain, just blissful ignorance.

You wake just as the plane lands on the runway, the loud screeching of the rubber tyres hitting the tar at great speed. To speed up the process of waking up, you gulp down the last of your whiskey, the beverage barely relieving the dry mouth the pills had caused you on a daily basis. You clear your throat and lick your lips, looking around at the view outside of the moving scenery as the plane circles around to its final stop, where two military grade unimogs full of soldiers await your arrival.

You adjust your black mask, the material clings tight to your chin as it drapes down your neck. A man approaches you as you walk down the giant ramp of the aircraft, the noise ceasing as the engines come to a halt, the blades rotating slowly as they realise their journey has ended. The man stands a few inches taller than you, his brown mutton chops frame his face, blue eyes piercing you with a friendly look that makes you uneasy, the crows feet around his eyes are a knowing sign of his stress. You don’t even want to get started on that stupid hat.

“John Price, Captain John Price. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance.” You shake his extended hand firmly. Believing all you need to know in a person is all in the handshake; take Price for example, he’s firm, friendly, a business man, his hand doesn’t linger for longer than it needs to.

“You can call me Mercy. Glad to finally meet you Captain Price. Shepherd hasn’t informed me much of your men, I hope they’re up to standard.” You begin to walk to the truck, Price has his men load your luggage into the back.

“I firmly believe they are, Captain.” He holds the door open for you to sit in the backseat, an unusually kind gesture for someone you just met.

“Guess we’ll see about that.” You deadpan bluntly. You had seen your fair share of failures in your time, leaders who weren’t harsh enough on their men, who didn’t correct their mistakes or claimed to be a family unit. You hated that dynamic, you weren’t here to build a family or make friends. You were placed here to help the men of this task force with their dedicated mission and get the fuck back to your own unit, you had your own men that relied on you.

“Hope you don’t mind the introductions will be made off base this evening.” You raise an eyebrow, turning to the man beside you.

“Is that so? Where exactly will this off base location be? Is the area secure, will you have men patrolling the area?” These are all necessary questions and this man had looked at you as if you had two heads, which answered your questions for you.

“We can have it arranged Ma’am.” You hum in distaste.

“It would want to be arranged, I don’t leave base unless I know myself and my men are safe. I’m sure you understand Captain.” You already showed no fondness to the man who was supposed to be leading a task force, how incompetent were the men he were in charge of if the Captain himself didn’t pre-organise this off base meeting.

The base was small, a dozen buildings, one awfully large one in which you would assume was medical. One in which you would hope is medical. The trucks come to a stop, you’re grateful for your mask that filters the dust in which stops you from inhaling the swirling storm of dust as you open the door. Your boots leave an indented footprint on the beige dust, the grass growing in patches and the buildings invaded with overgrown weeds that haven’t been touched in what you’d assume were years.

“If you’ll follow me ma’am, I’ll show you around base.” You pull out the small notepad and pen, scribbling down how someone needs to hire a damn maintenance man to clean the weeds and mow the grass.

You come to the largest building which is attached to the other smaller ones in a large D shape. As you walk in, the room is outdated and the stench makes your nose scrunch in disgust under your mask.

“Captain what the fuck is that obnoxious smell?” Price turns to you, slowing his pace to match your own as you look into the windows of the old, outdated rooms, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

“This is the mess hall, we used to have people cook for us but they were all fired when the government stopped extra curricula funding.” You frown, speeding your pace through the dirty halls of the building.

“Why hasn’t it been cleaned, or demolished?” You finally exit that part of the building. Price doesn’t have an answer for you. You write some notes in your notepad about the foul stench and lack of use for that building, writing demolish with question marks and drawing a big circle around it.

“This is where we sleep, we have a dozen men on base at the moment, myself and 3 others are the task force 141 team you’ll be working closely with, your room is this one right here.”

You come to a stop, room 5F. He hands you the key, putting a spare in his pocket. Your luggage is sitting outside the door already.

“Keeping the spare key for any particular reason?”

“For emergencies only, we’ve had an incident where someone had a heart attack and locked themselves in. He passed away before we could get to him. Just a precaution, that’s all.”

The room is stuffy when he opens the door, the single bed is topped with a 4 inch mattress and one old flimsy blanket and a flat pillow, you’re grateful you brought your own bedding.

“If you need anything give me a buzz, I’ll text you the address of the bar tonight.” He gestures to a small piece of paper on the wall, sticky taped on all four sides. Written Prices name and mobile number.

“Right. Thanks.” You drag your luggage in from outside the door, the wheels are loud on the floor as it squeaks. You begin to unpack your things, deciding to put up the image of your nephew on the bedside table, having cropped out your ex-husband from the image to show the two of you, an image from your last birthday you spent with him.

“I want a corner piece please, please!” The boy pleas, his love for the crispy par burnt edges of your birthday cake were his favourite. You slice him up a large piece, swiping your finger in the delicious yellow frosting that topped his oversized piece. You lean into him and wipe it on his face, earning a groan of protest from him as he retreats from you.

“I’m trying to eat it, not wear it!” You laugh, cutting your family each a slice of the cake your brother-in-laws wife had made. The sunflowers were handcrafted with such delicacy you were saddened to cut into them-let alone eat them.

“Alright, alright, I guess I can leave you unbothered. But just for the moment.” You push his arm with your own gently in a playful manner.

To your surprise, he pulls out a sunflower from beside the seat he sits on, you set the cake down and grasp the flourishing flower, inspecting the beauty and vibrancy of the perfectly bright yellow petals, it had been picked perfectly. Tears pricked your eyes as you held the flower.

“God kid, you know how to make me cry dontcha?” He grins, his mouth full of chocolate mud cake, “good tears, right?” You smiled at your nephew and he smiled back, “right.” Unbeknownst to you in that moment-your brother in law had snapped an image.

A picture you held dear to your heart, and now bedside. You manage to pull yourself away from the image-a painful memory in which all of him had become, yet you had to preserve as there was no one left that would do so. You refused to let his memory die.

You pull your mask down as you near the sink, a crusty mirror hangs above it, barely clear enough for you to see yourself as much more than a blur. You reapply the black paint to your face as some unwelcome tears had fallen and dropped down your cheeks, ruining the pigment of the paint. You brush your teeth, turning the tap on to see a musty brown coloured water before it turns clear, note to self, don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled.

You apply some deodorant before pulling your mask back upward, your hot breath is once again trapped in the confines of the mask as you close yourself off. Your phone vibrates on the bed and you check it’s a text from Price confirming the location of the ‘meeting’. More like a typical military piss up, these men will find any excuse to drink.

Price: “Bar at 112 West Highland Road. Neon green sign out front, be blind to miss it.”

You: “Got it. Be there soon.”

The bar was quieter than you expected, sure it had a few typical rowdy drinks, but nothing like any of the chaos you’d experienced in America. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Price, your eyes scanning every face in the room as if you’ve got facial recognition in your brain, just in case you need to remember. Price stands from his seat, 3 other men sit with him, one is significantly larger than the rest, he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, the rest you don’t see as he’s turned towards the bar.

You stand tall as you approach them, people moving out of your way as you barge into their shoulders roughly.

“Glad you could join us tonight. This is the rest of the team, Gaz, Soap and Ghost.” He points to his men and you shake the hand of Gaz first, “nice meeting you Gaz.” He’s got a bright smile that you find hard not to reciprocate.

“I’m John McTavish but you can call me Soap, ma’am.” You raise an eyebrow, two johns? Seriously? You shake his hand, “I’ll keep that in mind, Soap.”

The last man you approach is large, he’s tall and a black baklava with a skull print covers his face. His hoodie is pulled up and a black substance covers his eyes, his blonde lashes untouched as they poke through, his blue eyes are piercing as they stare through you. “Ghost eh, interesting. I like the look.” He looks you up and down before nodding. “Appreciated Captain.” He sets his drink down on the bar and you take a seat in between him and Soap, there feels something familiar about his accent, those beaming blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, but you chalk it up to him being British. “Call me Mercy.”

“How’d ya come up that callsign?” Soap inquires. You exhale deeply, this was going to be a long night.

“Before I answer any damn questions, I need a drink.” The bartender took your order, within the minute you had the drink sitting in front of you, pleading for you to drink it so it could take your pain away for you, deal with the guilt and memories you found to traumatic to continue to think about.

You take a sip and smack your lips. “It was an inside thing between my nephew and I, the name kinda just stuck.”

You finished off your drink and slid it back to the bartender who gave you a refill as you asked. “You got family back home then?” Gaz questions.

Thank god for the refill. “Negative. All deceased.” The men went quiet and you sip on the liquid, it warms you from the inside out, taking away the guilt and stripping you down to where you had no emotion on the topic. They murmur apologies and you feel ghosts gaze on you, his eyes felt dark and sinister, like he was distant from his physical body, he didn’t really feel there.

“You ever marry?” You grit your teeth, your jaw is clenching so hard you can almost feel your teeth grinding. The mention of your husband boils your blood, but also breaks your heart into a million shards.

“Still married, technically. Piece of shit ghosted me when things got hard, haven’t seen him since. First thing I’ll do if I ever see that sorry bastard is serve him the divorce papers I’ve been carrying for half a decade. Cant change my last name without the divorce being finalised.”

You throw your neck back as you finish off your second glass of whiskey. Your bladder feeling full from the beverage, your mind hazy and spinning already, the talk of your husband is making your head ache. You pull of your ID and card, throwing it onto the bench for the bartender, “excuse me a moment while I use the restroom, prepare another drink for when I get back would you?”

The bartender watches you hesitantly and mutters, “sure.”

The bartender tossed your cards back to the bench in front of you, attempting to sit them where you left them, seemingly throwing it too far as your ID rolls off the bar onto the floor beside your stool legs. Soap mutters, “fuckin idiot.” As he picks up your card, setting it back upright in front of your drink, noticing the last name, he does a double take. He thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your last name- Riley. This surely is just a coincidence, right?

“Eh Lt, you seen this lass’ last name, might be a relation to you.” Ghost turns to soap, irritated by his shenanigans, but glances towards the card anyway and can’t take his eyes away from it. He sees you- her. His wife. It’s her face and her name, how did you get this? His wife hated the military, war and fighting, she would never join it, let alone become a Captain of her own army.

He felt his blood boiling, the alcohol in his blood seemed to fuel the fire swirling in his stomach. How wife was killed that night along with the rest of his family- it made him sick to his stomach having to think you could try and come into this talk force and betray him.

“You alright Simon?” Prices voice is unheard, the noise of the bar and the photo of his wife’s face brings back too many painful memories for him to focus on the reality. Memories that plagued his nightmares- of you and him.

“What do you think Si?” She twirls in the blue sundress for him as her hair falls over her shoulders, he can only smile at the sight of her, her beauty was immeasurable to him-incomparable. He had never felt this way before about anyone. In that moment, he remembers how perfect he thinks she would’ve looked swollen with his child.

His hands snaked their away around her waist, pulling her into his body. “You know I think you look fuckin’ perfect baby, always perfect.” She rolls her eyes at his compliment.

“This is a serious matter you know! It’s a wedding, people will be taking pictures that last many lifetimes, you look so handsome and I have to match it.” He remembers cradling her face, forcing her to look him in his eyes, “you look better than I ever could, baby.”

She smiled but shook her head, “no one could ever be more handsome than my husband.” She rubbed her hands up and down his white long sleeve button up shirt, smoothing out the collar which barely had a wrinkle in it post ironing.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you hm?” His voice was a quiet whisper, she’d worked through previous hardships, his struggles and scars she had kissed better and even attempted to stitch up when he’d come home because he blatantly refused to let anyone else touch his body. She had been there through the worst of it, helped him through his family troubles, stayed after he applied for the military and stayed up during the nights he had nightmares, his ptsd was severe for months on end when he first signed up.

“You deserve me Si, more than anything you deserve me.”

“Ghost?” Soaps hand was on his shoulder, shaking him out of his hazy memories of his old wife.

“Need a minute outside.”

As he pushes through the large crowd, he finds you already outside, smoking a cigarette that blows large clouds through the cool night air. You pull down the bottom of your mask, not wanting to be exposed to the larger man. He towers over you, something about his size and silence is both terrifying and has you feeling safe.

“Don’t like people seein’ your face?” You’re surprised when he asks, having not said much to you this evening.

“No one but myself has in a long time.” He leans up against the brick wall, standing too close for your liking beside you.

“You ever get sick of it?” You turn to him, squashing your cigarette underneath your boot, the red light fizzling out on the damp cement.

“Sick of what exactly?” You turn to him, an arm on your hip.

“Bein’ a snake, pretendin’ to be someone you’re not.” This makes you frown, your impatience coming in at an all time high, blood pressure rising as this man insults you.

“If you’ve got something to say, Ghost, I suggest you spit it out.” You snap accusingly, pointing at his chest as you stand tall, keeping eye contact and not intimidated by what he’s doing. You take a step closer and he comes off of the brick wall, standing a foot in front of you.

“You’re the enemy, have to be smarter than to use an ID of someone who is dead!” He snarls, his voice is booming as he swings at you, his fist connects with your stomach and it sends you sliding backwards on the wet cement. You exhale, steadying your breathing after the hit. You lunge towards him, ducking at the last second to avoid is hands trying to grab you, you kick as his knees and one falters, nearly bringing him to the ground, you had quickly figured out his weakness.

He levels himself on his leg, watching you with a look so furious in his eyes you want nothing more than to erase the look from your mind, if you had to accomplish that with violence-so be it.

He pulls out his knife from his boot, you scowl as he does so, “fucking coward, fight like a man!” You yell at him, he ignores you and charges like a raging bull, heavy footsteps slow in comparison to your nimble movements which allows you to narrowly avoid the knife he aimed to plunge into your ribs.

You pulled out your own knife, “wanna fucking okay dirty hm? Come on then you fucking prick! I’m not scared of you, I eat shitheads like you for fucking dinner.” You’re eyeing each other off, circling like predator and prey, although no one knows who is which yet. The rain makes it difficult to see, the drops falling onto your mask make it more difficult to breath through. Through the scuffle part of your hair had fallen out of its plait, the strand of hair irritating and blinding you as it sits in front of your eyes.

“Fuck it.” You growl lowly, tearing off your mask as you cut it with your knife, all while avoiding a blow from Ghosts forward attack, you pull your hair backwards and tuck it behind your ear.

The man freezes in place, his movements stop entirely, the knife falling from his hands, clattering onto the wet sidewalk. As he sees her-you, his wife. Your face is more matured, it’s grown into its features and you have a sternness he doesn’t recognise, eyes as cold as stone as you watch him fall apart before you. He notices a giant scar along your nose that has never been seen before.

“It can’t be, you’re dead, you died-“ he trails off, eyes wide as he watches you like a Hawk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, confused and still pent up from the fight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t mutter a single word, he barely finds the strength to lift his hands to the bottom of his baklava and pulls it off his face, revealing himself for the first time in over a decade. He felt himself crumbling, so vulnerable and exposed to the world, his world-you. His wife and the woman he loved so much-loves.

You stutter for a moment before your face hardens again, you storm forward and shove him, your fists hit his chest so many times you can’t count, he doesn’t react, he just stands like a punching bag for you to let out your Pent up anger. You pull away from him, the thought of touching him and him touching you, made you nauseous.

“You piece of shit! You left me! For better or worse my fucking ass!” You pace the sidewalk, kicking the trash can as a decades worth of emotions come crashing down on you. “You weren’t even there for the funeral Simon! Have you even visited them? Since they’ve died, have you? I see Joseph whenever I get the chance.”

Tears are falling down your face at the thought of him, your nephew Joseph.

“Don’t talk about him.” Simon growls, obviously still a soft spot for him. You roll your eyes, “I thought you were fucking dead with them! When I ran through that house and didn’t find you I thought they’d taken you to fucking get back at me! I chased every piece of intel for years on end trying to find you.” He steps towards you, his big chest heaving. The street lamp above you shines above him, his face looking more scarred and handsome as ever.

“I killed every damn one of those motherfuckers and you were still nowhere to be found. I dedicated the past decade of my life trying to find you and you’re in the fucking military, alive and fine.”

You slap him across the face at his accusation.

“If you think this is me fine Simon Riley, you’re stupidly fucking mistaken. Now get the fuck out of my face! I’m your Captain, you’re dismissed! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You storm away from him, sheathing your knife into your leg harness. Once you were far away enough and sure he couldn’t see you, you slipped on your mask and sobbed, uncontrollably against the wall of a building in the street, forgetting about the bar, the team and the ID you’d left behind. Screw all that, in the morning you were going home. The rain poured on you, your uniform heavy on your skin as it sticks.

You mindlessly walk until you reach base, not realising how far you’d walked until you ended up standing out the front of your room door with the key in hand ready to unlock the door. You exhale and close the door, removing your mask and grabbing a fist full of wipes to clean the smudged black face paint that had dropped down your neck from the rain and probably your tears. Fuck Simon, you couldn’t stay here, not when he was a constant reminder of the pain, your past was too much to have to relive everyday. The death, blood, the screams, the way he abandoned you.

You sit on the chair beside your desk, grabbing the photograph of you and Joseph before your emotionally exhausted body begins to slump over the desk, eyes fluttering shut before you can remember to take your pills.

You’re preparing Joseph’s things for a bath, his clothes laid down on his bed, his green towel and toothbrush on the bed. You’re about to call him up when you hear the front door bust open.

“Kill every last one of them, I want no survivors. Riley has to pay.” It’s a foreign voice you don’t recognise, the fear of something happening to your family and realising this is the end as they fire the first gunshot. The screams of your brother in law shake the foundation of the house as gunfire rings through the walls, his wife begging through her sobs for these men to stop, “we’ll do anything, please!”

Her pleas are ignored and she too is gunned down, silence fills the house, you sneakily hide in the bedroom closet in Joseph’s room, the door thankfully making no noise as you close the door shut, the old hinges working a charm for the first time ever. You can barely see anything through the tiny cracks of the closet door, the moonlight coming through the window is the only thing you see.

You hear footsteps running down the hall to your direction and you try to even your ragged breathing, you hear more footsteps running up the stairs, the thundering noise beats in your ears. You hear him crying, sobbing as he calls for help, for you to help him. You’re frozen, trembling in place as the kid stands there alone with a gun pointed to him in his own bedroom.

“He’s just a kid, can’t we leave him?” One man says, the other sneers at him, “boss said all of them, especially the kid.”

“No please!” Joseph begs before he’s gunned down, his blood splatters into the closet cracks and onto your face, you flinch and your eyes are wide as your nephew is ruthlessly murdered in front of you. You were too much of a coward to help him, you are compliant in his death.

The man walks closer to the closet, hand rattling on the closet door knob like he’s going to open it, then the sound of police sirens can be heard coming down the street, they’re coming fast and the red and blue lights are seen through the window, illuminating the room and the dead body but feet away from you.

“Hurry up and let’s get out of here. I ain’t goin to prison!” The hand releases the doorknob and trips over Joseph’s body, running downstairs as they escape the consequences.

Your body is trembling, stuck in a back and forth rock of trying to self sooth but to no avail. Your brain replays the scene over and over, him begging for your help and being shot by a couple thugs in a targeted attack.

“M sorry joey.” Is your mantra, you’re repeating it over and over, what starts as a soft whisper becomes a chant that attracts the police.

“Hey, we got a survivor over here!” The officer calls to his colleagues, trying to pry you from the closet. “What’s your name?” His voice is drowned out by your ears ringing, your dissociated state accompanied by the incoherence nonsense that leaves your lips, “mercy.” You mumble, mercy. That’s what you wanted, hoping the muttered word would stop the pain, stop the cruelty and stop the joke.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your eyes shoot open as you’re gasping for air, the scream that leaves your lips is one of genuine terror, your arms are thrashing and shoving the weight you feel on your arm as someone’s hand.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” You recognise his voice, Simon. Your heart is thumping and you sit up from your spot on the chair, pacing the small area in the room that Simon didn’t occupy.

“You have em too?” Your neck snaps around to Simon, glaring at him through your tears and wet face. “Of course I have them, I hear their screams and see Joseph killed in my head over and over on reply, as if it happened yesterday.”

Simon stumbles backward, shocked by your confession. “You- you saw him..” you rubbed your hands over your eyes. “Yes.” Confirming what Simon would never want to hear from you. You watched your nephew die.

“I don’t want you or need you in here Simon, I need you to leave.” He shuffles on his feet, his eyes torn between you and the photograph of you and his nephew on the table you’d just been cradling.

“If you ever want to talk-“ you cut him off with a scoff, irritated by his presence.

“I don’t. Now get out, I’m fine. I’m not here to make amends with you and sure as hell not trying to be your wife again, Simon. You were a shit husband, now please, get out.” You sigh, sitting on your bed, completely exhausted.

Simons heart shatters at your words, every wall he’s built comes crumbling down at his feet, he’s now left truly alone. The hope of you had kept him going- now what does he have? He simply nods, wanting to respect your needs, when he reaches the door you call his name, he’s hopeful when he turns around to see you barely a foot away when you hand him an envelope.

“Sign the divorce papers Simon. Please.”

It feels like his heart has been stomped on the for third time tonight, you were trying to sever the last connection he had to you, his last name. The only proof he had that you were ever his, that his family existed at all; he holds the papers tight in his hand and walks out of your room, leaving you to take out your pills and swallow them dry, having a sleep that’s uninterrupted by those plaguing nightmares, those pills, your poison, you were at her mercy and Simon was at yours.

#Simon Riley #ghost #Simon ghost Riley #call of duty fic #Simon Riley angst #cod #simon riley imagine #Simon x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x oc #Simon Riley x mercy

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starryylies · 2 months

Note

Do you think Simon is the type of guy that say “Dress however you want,I can fight”???I think he is..but still he will punished us for teasing him and getting him into trouble :)

Simon punishing you in the bathroom

Omg Hii!! Thank you so much 4 the request I love it aaaaa

and yes I totally agree that si is the type of man to be self assured and say that butttttt you make it hard sometimes but for that you get your due punishment :3

Anyways I hope you enjoy 🩷🩷🩷🩷

You both had decided to go out this Friday night, you were all glammed up wearing your lil white dress with shimmery star like sparkles on it

You were quite reluctant on wearing the dress though since it showed some skin and you felt insecure regarding your body :(

You looked like a goddess in Simon’s eyes though

You looked like an angel in flesh

He swore he would make himself worthy of you and that he would protect you from the outside world

So there you were,

With a possessive arm draped around your shoulders as you walked by the courtyard

reaching to a magical entrance filled with aromas of many a thousand of dishes which were being cooked inside the kitchen

You were so hungry,

drooling even because of the smell of the food

you were enjoying your date with Simon in the restaurant,

until~

You decided it would be a little fun to get him all flustered and play a little game

You slowly hiked your heel upto Si’s crotch rubbing circles there while maintaining eye contact

“you’re playing a dangerous game princess” he said giving out a warning followed by a dark and somewhat soothing chuckle

You kept quiet continuing the ‘game’,

getting soft grunts and winks from si

But then the waiter arrived,

Maybe you had too many glasses of wine or maybe you were just losing your mind,

You decided to go further and tease Simon by flirting with the waiter

Oh this was gonna get more fun you thought

Locking eyes with the waiter, leaving flirtatious cues, brushing your fingertips against his hand

You felt like You finally had the upper hand

Or, so you thought (you don’t )

Si’s fists were clenching in anger.

The second after the waiter left he had to restrain himself to not bend you over then and there to pound into you everyone (the waiter) knows you’re his

So he abruptly got up taking ahold of your wrist leading you to the restroom

“ fuckin’ brat had to rile me up didn’t ya look at ya, so fuckin hungry for my attention” he grumbled out.

Going inside,

He closed the stall keeping you close to him as he roughly yanked off your panties with his left hand

“flirtin’ with the waiter right infront of me, I wanted to rip his fucking eyes off” The words came out like spitfire from his mouth as he held you close with his right hand

You could feel his hot breath on your face as you reached up to give him a soft kiss as an ‘apology’

It was followed by a rough and desperate kiss from his end as he pulled your body closer to his.

“You look so beautiful today but you gotta remember who ya belong to princess” he said softly In between the haste kiss

He then started leaving trails of sloppy wet kisses on the nape of your neck while slowly rubbing your throbbing clit

“FuckkkFuck siiiii it feels nice go on” you moan

“Ya want me to make ya cum with my fingers dont’ ya love”

“Yesss siii pleaseplease” you moaned out softly as you gripped his shirt,

The pressure on your clit and the wet kisses left made you so close

“Are ya close princess huh? Tell me?”

“Yessss si m so close” you whined out

As you were about to reach your orgasm simon yanked away his hand

“Siii why’d you do that” you cried

“Cuz bad girls don’t get to cum now do they princess?” he said teasingly as he straightened his shirt out and fixed his cuffs

“Sii I beg ya please lemme cummm” you whined

“No, Not a single word till we get home princess” He says sternly while you pout :(

As you fix your dress and yourself you try to take your panties which are next to Simon’s shoes

As you bend over to pick them up

Simon is quick to grab them before you

“But sii i need them :((‘

“Dirty little girls don’t get to wear panties and trust me you won’t be needing them princess” he smirks getting out of the stall undazed

leaving you to be a poor horny lil mess for the rest of the night :)

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expominds · 4 months

Text

mdni 18+!, cw: marking, sex, biting, hickeys, brief mention of blood

reblogs are always appreciated!

simon who has a marking kink. this man cannot go a day without doing SOMETHING to you to make sure the world knows your his. whether it be biting, giving you a hickey, carving his initials into your chest (🤭)… the world just has to know.

he’s so obsessive over you :(. even when he’s rutting into you, he’s grunting in your ear, ‘look t’you, your body is mine, isn’t it?’ his short, blunt nails leave crescent moon shapes in your hips as he fucks you like his life depended on it.

you surely have bruises all the time from his death grip, the purple and blue palm shaped contusions steadily fading into that ugly yellow but it never fully goes away because he just can’t. stop. marking you. :(

everytime you’re about and about with your friends, at work, or even with your family, there is always evidence that you belong to him. it started out as a simple hickey on your neck, but this marking thing quickly turned into something much more.

he never thought it about more than bite marks, his teeth breaking your skin, that beautiful crimson color staining the corners of his mouth as he pulls away to admire his work, or hickeys that he would give you whenever you left the house. hickeys, not even in a sexual manner, he would always twirl you around after sucking and nipping at your skin, a picture perfect memory forever engrained in his mind that you are his.

it’s getting to the point where he will buy a tattoo gun and tattoo his name onto your virgin skin, the ink settling deep and forever intertwining you two. his. forever and his only. no other man (or woman) would have you, and he would make sure of that, even if kingdom come.

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dsdnjfd · 11 days

Text

no thoughts, just choking simon while you ride him. obviously this level of comfortability and trust comes with an abundance of time and patience, but god does it get him moanin' like a bitch when you're on top and he catches that little glint in your eyes. when he feels your hand slide up his abs and chest to curl those painted fingers around his neck. when he feels you squeeze, feels the fringes of his mind go a little fuzzy. when he feels you clamping down like a vice on him, the sweetest torture he's ever known.

#simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #simon x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #sigh #its barely 11am #ghost x you

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astratheodora · 8 months

Text

Promise 2 (Ghost x F!Reader)

Summary: Ghost and you return to base after your mission, a little worse for wear Word Count: 3,540 Rating: Explicit/Mature Warnings: None for this chapter Notes: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, readers call sign is Mirage

AO3 / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

Time flew by quickly as you found yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, you had never felt so safe with anyone before and the way Ghost held you was something you wished you could experience more often.He seemed so gentle when he was holding you. Ghost’s eyes slowly closed and he sighed softly as you fell asleep.

It would be hours before you realized you fell asleep, jolting awake with a deep gasp from a nightmare you couldn't even remember. The room now dark and quiet, still early hours in the morning. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest and your breath came in huffs. Your eyes darted around the room, scanning for danger, only to find Ghost still in the bed next to you.

Ghost’s eyes were closed but it was clear that he wasn’t sleeping. He let out a soft sigh as he noticed you waking up, all over the place as you tried to get your bearings.

“Mirage?" Ghost murmured, his voice soft and gentle, not wanting to scare you any more than you already were.

You flinched when Ghost spoke, not expecting him to be awake. "Fuck." You mumbled groggy. "I'm fine, just a bad dream... I think." You rubbed my eyes and sighed. It was only 3 am, you still had plenty of time to sleep. But you felt so on edge you didn't think you could get back to sleep now.

“I can’t get back to sleep either.” Ghost replied softly as he sat up on the bed.

He gently brushed the hair out of your face, his expression changing to concern. “Do you want to talk about what you dreamt?” He asked quietly.

Ghost had never seen you look this worried and on edge before, there were usually never moments where Ghost could see you weak. But today proved him wrong.

You sighed heavily and leaned over to rest against Ghost. Your head leaning against his shoulder. "It was Graves."

You felt so silly for still being afraid of him, but after tonight you realized he was always a step ahead. No matter how far you ran, he was determined to find you. "He's not going to stop until he kills me, or I kill him... and I don't want either to happen."

“I understand.” Ghost murmured.

He knew just how dangerous Graves was and you were completely right. The man was after you, he always had been.

Ghost’s eyes drifted towards the window as he wrapped his arms around you. “I won’t let him have you.” He whispered, his voice soft and gentle. “I promise.”

You yawned, your eyes tearing up from exhaustion. "You pinky promise?" You teased, holding out your pinky to link with his.

Ghost let out a soft chuckle, amused by your teasing. He looked at you with a soft smile, “I pinky promise.” He replied, holding his pinky out and interlocking your pinky finger with his.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Ghost asked gently.

"Yea.. yea I'm ready to go back to sleep now." You laid back and tucked the blanket under your chin. "Thank you," you said meekly. You felt embarrassed at how vulnerable he's seen you tonight. Somehow you felt so safe with him, he was a softie behind closed doors and you could tell he cared about you.

You could feel Ghost’s body sink slightly into the mattress and you both stayed silent for a few moments. You started to drift off into sleep, until you heard Ghost’s soft and gentle voice fill the room again.

“Sweet dreams y/n...” Ghost whispered.

Ghost closed his eyes and took a few deep and calming breaths, the man looked so peaceful and content when he was asleep. He was always so quiet and reserved; you loved seeing the rare soft and gentle side of Ghost like this.

Ghost's soft voice was the last thing you heard before drifting into a deep sleep. Thankfully a restful sleep.

You woke up later in the morning. Sun peaked around the curtains and gave the room a slight orange glow. Ghost was still laid on his back, sound asleep. Soft small breaths as his chest rose and fell. You smiled softly, grateful for him staying close to you all night.

Ghost looked peaceful in his sleep, his expression remained soft and he looked content. He looked nothing like the man you had seen throughout the previous day.

You quietly slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. Closing the door softly behind you before flicking the lights on. Taking your time to wash any makeup left on your face and brushing out the tangles in your hair.

Ghost yawned quietly and looked towards the bathroom and noticed that you had gotten changed and cleaned up. He slowly sat up on the bed and stretched, groaning at his stiff muscles.

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom door and knocked gently. “Mirage?” Ghost asked in a quiet voice.

You let out a startled gasp when he knocked on the door. Your heart beating rapidly as you slowly opened the door to see a sleepy Ghost.

"Good morning... sorry, I was just about done."

“Morning," he murmured in a sleepy tone, rubbing his eyes. “Are you all good?” Ghost asked, noticing your deer in headlights look you gave him.

Ghost let out a small yawn as he stood in the bathroom door and he slowly stretched his arms towards the ceiling. The morning sunlight made the man look peaceful and content, you couldn’t recall ever seeing Ghost so relaxed without him being on edge.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he stretched. His long muscular arms stretched over his head, flexing every muscle in them. It pulled up the hem of his t-shirt to expose a little of his stomach. The beautiful V of his hip bones and the soft blonde hairs that trailed from his belly button disappearing into his pants. You felt starstruck for a few moments not realizing he had asked me a question.

"Uh-I.. yea I'm fine. I didn't think you were up yet. You just startled me is all." You tried to play off casually.

Ghost’s eyes noticed how you were checking him out, he smirked ever so slightly as he let out a small chuckle. You looked away slightly embarrassed as you started to blush.

Ghost took a few steps into the bathroom to be more on your level, he smiled warmly as he looked at you. “It's not polite to stare.” Ghost’s tone was lighthearted and teasing, it didn’t seem like it bothered or annoyed Ghost that you were checking him out.

You huffed a laugh and rolled your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tried to convince him. You could still smell his cologne, especially now that he stood closer. Your heart fluttered and you crossed my arms over your chest in defense.

“Uh huh....” Ghost chuckled softly, his smile never faded as you tried to pretend you weren’t checking him out. “Sure, sure, I believe you.”

Ghost’s eyes focused on your reaction as you put your arms over your chest, he tilted his head slightly and smirked. “You know.... I’m sure I could stretch a little more in here if you want me to.” Ghost teased, his tone amused.

"No, no." You answered too quickly. A deep blush flooding your cheeks. "Let's get packed up so we can get back to base."

You tried to squeeze past Ghost, but his looming muscular figure took up most of the door frame.

Ghost chuckled to himself once again as he noticed your quick response to the situation.

He saw you struggling with him being in the way of the door, just to be flirty Ghost placed his hand on the wall next to you. “You could try to go under me, I won’t look.” Ghost smirked and chuckled at his own little tease but he was curious to see how you would react.

Although you are strong, Ghost was much stronger . And he was also much taller than you.

You looked for another way of escaping. "You're such an ass," you replied.

You tried to push against him, in hopes of nudging him just enough to slip by but he didn't nudge. "Ghost," you whined, "this isn't fair."

Ghost’s smirk never faded as he chuckled, his eyes focused on your face. “What’s that?” He teased.

Ghost’s arms were so strong that it was almost impossible to push him in any direction, he was still very calm and relaxed. His breath remained stable.

“You could always ask me to move, you know?” Ghost teased again, amusement in his tone.

You huffed at him, "asking you to move would be admitting defeat and I would never." You both had stubborn and competitive personalities. You weren't going to let him win so easily.

You quickly tried to throw yourself at his arm blocking the door. Youlanded against him with an oof but he still didn't budge. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was my entire body weight." You complained as you hung on his muscular arm.

You had to use your last resort. You looked up at Ghost with pleading doe eyes and pouted your lip. "Why are you trapping me? I thought you liked me."

Ghost sighed and let out a deep laugh as you threw yourself into his arm, he barely budged at the force of your body weight.

“Aww Mirage, are you resorting to being cute now?” Ghost purred.

You smiled softly, "I'm always cute... and cute girls get let out of the bathroom, right?"

Ghost let out a soft sigh and shook his head. “You’re right, cute girls do get let out of the bathroom.”

His arm slowly moved out of the way as he opened the bathroom door for you. “There you go.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and straightened your clothes. "What a gentleman," you replied. "I'll keep in mind all I need to do is flutter my eyes at you the next time." You slipped quickly out of the bathroom before he got a chance to change his mind.

You didn't have much to pack up and it only took you a few minutes to have our duffles ready. Your stomach growled in protest and you threw your hands over it.

Ghost walked over to the bathroom door and grabbed his duffel bag, he turned to look at you and raised a brow as he heard your stomach growl. "Someone's hungry."

You groaned deeply, "I'm starving."

Ghost nodded. "It's early, I'm sure they have something that you can eat back at base." He took a few steps towards you and looked around. "We should get back as soon as we can."

You felt the atmosphere shift into a more professional one. It was fun to play with Ghost, but you had to get back to base and finish your mission. You felt the pit in your stomach again, not wanting to leave this safe space of the hotel.

Your stomach painfully growled again in protest which snapped you back to reality. "I am so hungry, let's get back asap please. I'm sure Soap has had his fair share if they beat us back to base." You threw your duffel bag strap over your shoulder and made way for the door.

Ghost nodded as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder. "We’ll have to hurry if we want food, we’ll be so late as it is. I can’t imagine Price is happy right now.”

Ghost let out a soft sigh, he sounded rather disappointed that you and him weren’t going to be able to spend any longer together, but you had a mission to complete. He walked over to the door and gestured for you to lead the way.

You heard his sigh and saw he shift in body language. Back to reality... you thought solemnly.

You both got into the black truck, Ghost at the wheel as usual. You buckled your belt and yawned loudly. "I can't wait to sleep in my own bed."

Ghost nodded as he started the car, he heard you yawn and he smiled to himself again.

“Not too long now.” He told you as he began to drive back to base.

Ghost couldn’t resist a small yawn as he drove, but he shook it off and tried to keep himself awake.

You laughed softly, "I heard that." You took a quick glance at the GPS. You sighed, "15 more minutes... think you can make it?" You teased a little but you looked at him with a bit of concern. Both of you were hungry and tired. You felt restless sitting in the passenger seat.

“What was that? I didn’t hear anything.” Ghost joked as he yawned again. He looked back at you and noticed the concerned look you had.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine." He nodded.

You felt like you couldn't get your seat belt off fast enough as Ghost put the truck in park. You slipped out as fast as you could manage, your duffel bag almost taking you down as you lugged it over your shoulder.

“Careful," Ghost chuckled softly. He quickly moved over to where you were standing and took your duffel bag from you.

“Let me carry it for you.” Ghost told you as he hoisted the bag up over his shoulder.

You blushed as Ghost took your duffel from you. His arms flexing as he took your duffel bag, the sleeves of his t-shirt clinging to his biceps.

“Oh… thank you,” you mumbled shyly.

“I can’t wait for a nice hot cup of coffee.”Ghost exclaimed in a sleepy tone.

"Fuck." You groaned loudly as relief washed over you. "I don't think I've ever been so happy to be back here." You wanted to drop to your knees and thank the heavens, you were so happy. You quickly started walking towards the door, your mind on going straight to the cafeteria.

Ghost started to follow you to the door of the base, he looked exhausted, but he was happy now that you were both safe and sound. You held the door open for him, slipping inside behind him. You continued to walk beside him with a small smile on your face. As you got closer, you could smell all the food and coffee from the cafeteria.

“Oh my god,” you groaned happily.

Ghost walked into the cafeteria and he immediately inhaled deeply as the smell of food and coffee entered his nose. You quickly spotted Soap sitting at the table by himself, the man seemed to be eating rather quickly and he was staring down at his food.

Ghost turned his head to look at you as he laughed softly at Soap’s behavior. “Well, someone must be hungry.” Ghost mused.

You laughed with him, “typical! That;s about to be me… let’s drop the bags and grab food. I’m sure Soap missed us plenty already.”

You almost skipped up to Soap as he continued to chow down.

“Wow, not even a hug?” You asked sarcastically.

Soap quickly looked up and gave you a big smile. “You’re back!” He shouted excitedly, hopping out of his chair and quickly wrapping his arms around you. He squeezed you so tight in the hug it knocked the wind out of you for a moment.

“Can’t. Breathe.” You joked.

“Seems like someone misses us,” Ghost chuckled as he looked over at Soap.

Soap laughed deeply as he let you go, turning to Ghost. “‘Course I missed ya L.T.! Go get food, then we can talk. I can hear this one’s stomach growling at me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I second this motion. Food. Let’s go.” You reached for Ghost’s forearm and gently pulled so he’d follow you.

Ghost nodded as he took a few steps to follow you, he grabbed Soap’s shoulder and squeezed it as he walked past him.

Ghost looked at you and smiled, “lead the way.”

Ghost let out another small sigh as he followed you over to the food and quickly grabbed a plate. You didn’t know what he was going to get but you did notice him take a cup of hot coffee and a plate of hot food over to a table. You followed him back to the table with your own food and a fresh cup of hot coffee. You took a seat next to Ghost across from soap. But before anyone could talk, you started to dig into your food.

Soap laughed, having cleared his plate already. “Everything go alright out there?”

Ghost sat up straight and started to eat, you could see the exhaustion in his face, and he was starting to eat slowly to give his body a chance to relax. He nodded as he ate and spoke with a mouthful of food, “Yeah, went better than expected to be honest.”

Soap just hummed as he watched Ghost eat, the man then turned his attention to you. “How are you Mirage? Did you have a good break?”

You rolled your eyes, mouth full of food. “Oh fuck off,” you played back. “Vacation my ass. I’m so tired of being eye-candy for perverts.” You laughed and shoved more food in your mouth.

Soap laughed, “alright alright. I’ll let you two eat. Get some rest, no one needs you guys until tomorrow anyways.” He grabbed his empty food tray and started to leave. “Oh, Gaz and I are going down to the pub later tonight if you’re up to joining us.”

Ghost was almost finished with his plate, “sounds good… I’ll let you know later.”

Once Soap left there wasn’t much talking as you both scarfed down the last of your food. You cleared your plate and took a big sip of your coffee. A satisfied sigh left your lips, and you leaned back in the chair. “Fuck,” you groaned happily, “I’m so full. You’re going to have to carry me, I ate too much.”

Ghost looked down at you as he swallowed the last of his food. “Oh yeah? But if I do that, what’s in it for me?” He asked in a soft and playful tone.

You laughed softly and rolled your eyes. “Let’s clean up our plates, I’m ready to stretch out in my bed.” You grabbed your tray and headed for the dish drop.

Ghost stood up and followed you over to the dish drop, he was also feeling rather tired and could barely keep himself awake now.

Ghost let out a deep yawn as he carried his plate over, he was so ready for some rest. “Yeah, I’ll be glad to get back into my bed...I’ll be so stiff tomorrow.” He chuckled as he placed his empty plate into the dish drop.

You picked up your duffel and slung it over your shoulder again, smiling and shaking your head at Ghost. “So you’re saying you didn’t like getting a couple hours of sleep?” You teased, knowing you were both exhausted. And now with bellies full of food, it wouldn’t be long before you were out cold. You yawned deeply, “thank god it’s still early, we can at least get a nap in.”

Ghost laughed softly as he heard the comment, he couldn't help but agree with you. He looked over at you and nodded. He was so tired but he couldn't help but notice your cute yawn as you looked at him, he felt a slight twinge in his stomach.

Ghost shook the feeling away. "Yeah, we're both in for a long sleep...I wouldn't be surprised if we slept until dinner."

“As if I would ever miss dinner.” You playfully pushed Ghost, not even budging him. “I’ll set an alarm… I can come wake you up for dinner and then, uh-” You chewed on your lip for a moment. “We go to the pub with Soap and Gaz?” A light blush on your face.

Ghost chuckled and looked down at you as you pushed him, he could see your cute blush as he could tell you were shy about the idea of going out tonight.

“It’s nice that Soap wants to include us, it’s a good chance to relax.” Ghost spoke calmly and he nodded. “Sure, we can go, but we better have a decent amount of rest in us first.” Ghost then looked down at you and smiled softly, "are you feeling tired yet?"

You rolled your eyes, “tired is an understatement.”

You reached your dorm's door and you both paused. “Go get some rest, I’ll come bother you when it’s time for dinner.” Standing right in front of him, you had to look up to see his face. You gave him a soft smile, “thank you… for everything.”

Ghost nodded and stepped to the side, allowing you to enter your dorm. “It’s no problem,” he mumbled. You could see a look in his eyes that he wanted to say something more but didn’t, he turned and left without another word.

You slipped inside your dorm, making straight for your bed. You stripped your dirty clothes and crawled under the covers. Set an alarm on your phone, closed your eyes, and knocked out.

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simonssniper · 1 year

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A New Development 🎀

-simon x reader

in which simon discoveries something new while fucking you

cw:NSFW,fem reader,stomach bulge,creampie,feral simon,mating press,dacryphilia

Thinking about Simon fucking u into the mattress and absentmindedly running his hands over your writhing body. Which is nothing new until his calloused fingers drift down from your puffy nipples to rest on your cute tummy where he feels a ??? bump? And his eyes immediately widen and his hips are stuttering in shock, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It doesn’t take him long to put two and two together. That “bump” was him stretching you out, and the sight alone was enough to drive him wild. If you thought he was feral before…oh boy. He cant think, head enraptured with ruining you. Dead set on doing nothing but shoving his cock so deep into your little pussy to make that “bump” turn into a bulge ; and he wastes no time doing so.

Before you can blink he’s pushing your trembling legs into the sheets and folding you into a mating press, an obscene moan escaping your parted lips at the new position. You’re going to fucking die because he’s breaking you in half, and the red hot pleasure of him fucking into your deepest spots sends your head lolling back. The absolute filth Simon is saying just adding fuel to the fire. “You feel that hmm? Me stretching this desperate cunt out?? Like feeling me in your tummy huh???” All while one giant hand is pressing down on your stomach to emphasis every word and thrust.

Wickedly going as far to wrap a hand around your neck and push it forward so u can see the filthy scene. And you take it all, every single inch, desperate mewls of yes yes yes escaping your mouth as you cry out in pleasure. Him leaning down to swallow them all as he kisses you silly, and all it takes is a couple more thrusts for you to coat his dick in your juices. Simon following along soon after and stuffing you full with his load only to fuck it right back into you cuz he cant waste a drop ;).

#❥sage;writes🍰💒!#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon x you #simon riley drabble #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagine #mw2 smut #cod mw2 #call of duty smut

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captainjamster · 3 months

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Underrepresented!Reader Series

Pairing(s): Ghost x vision impaired!reader Warnings: Mentions of dogs and ducks :) Wordcount: 2.9k Summary: A gentle, domestic morning with Simon and your dog as an individual with vision impairment. AO3 Link: Right here <3

AN: Reader has been written with vision that is limited to distinguishing only the outline and colour of items. A good visual example would be these shots from The Experience Unseen Campaign showing the Australian bush through a visually impaired perspective.

As I recognise the possible interpretations of the scene, I want to clarify that Simon is not infantilizing the reader in his insistence to make breakfast and general servitude - I just think that his primary love language is acts of service and he wants to do what he can for you, vision impaired or not!

Full fic is under the cut <3

When your eyes flutter open, breath speeding up as life begins to seep into your muscles, the world is a familiar, colourful fogginess that you know you can’t blink away. A warm square fills your vision, the sunlight speckled across your face as it peeks through the window behind the rippling curtains. The room is quiet with the gentle hum of electricity, buzzing from the electrical appliances just down the hall, and the gentle patter of water droplets echoes from just further along. Rolling away from the luminous sight, the spot next to you is cooling to the touch, the heat of the sun’s rays intermingling with the last remnants of your lover’s warmth.

“Phone, time?” You yawn, pressing a palm against your eyes, watching the pale morning colours disappear into a blackness. A tinny voice from your phone announces that the hour has just turned eight, the day seems clear but cool, and wishes you a good day before falling silent.

You lay there, fading in and out in the silence, bathing in the last tendrils of sleep until a leathery, wet nose pushes itself underneath your hand spread out against the mattress. The sensation draws a sleepy giggle from you, exciting the nose which begins wriggling underneath your palm as a furiously wagging tail drags through the air loudly, thumping against the bedpost with each swish.

The large shape of your german shepard perched on the bed fills your vision, and based on the whines he exhales with each breath, you assume he’s giving you a look that Simon calls ‘the saddest puppy in the world’.

“Yeah yeah, I know, you’re hungry sweetheart,” you croon, rubbing the bridge of his head affectionately. Riley nuzzles into the pat with a happy pant, pulling himself off the bed as you sit up and swing your legs over the edge.

The slippers are cosy on your feet, shielding them from the air far colder than the haven of body heat underneath your blanket, and Riley jumps excitedly as you finally right yourself up off the bed. He keeps to your left as you shuffle sleepily to the door, a soft barrier of fur between your knees and the bedframe, having learnt after listening to you curse the thing out in pain more than once when you were becoming accustomed to the new flat.

The smell of soap is clearer in the hallway, drifting from the slightly cracked bathroom door that allows the soft sound spotting of droplets to spill from the room. Riley brushes past you to sit himself in the hallway with a huff, acting as a very determined blob of a barrier between you and the bathroom, the outline of his head just distinguishable enough to see it pointedly stuck towards the archway to the kitchen. He pants happily as you bump his head playfully, nudging at your leg as you grab his food from the fridge in its designated bottom draw, listening to his nails click against the tiles with his gleeful tapping.

“This what you’re after, handsome?” You laugh, tipping his food into the bowl as he gives a loud woof before his muzzle is deep in the dish. Washing your hands to make a start on breakfast, the water splatters uninterrupted by dishes against the sink basin, and the kettle is chill to your touch as you tentatively tap it. Simon’s mug is right where you expect it to be, still hanging on the wall from last night’s dishes.

Grabbing the cool ceramic and popping the kettle on, the frigid chill has you regretting not grabbing something to wrap around yourself. The desire to escape its grips drives you to reach for the default, everything needed for Simon’s usual breakfast.

Different shaped containers are scattered against the wall on the counter, your fingers skimming the lids until you feel the curve of the sugar pot and the metal of the tea container. You fish for the teaspoon lingering inside the pot, dumping in the respective amounts – just one sugar for Simon – and two teabags, putting the pots back as you reach for the liquid level indicator hanging neatly off the hook Simon installed for you. It slots on the side of the mug as you fill them up, waiting for the tempo of the beeps to increase as the water nears the rim, before topping it off with milk and repeating it again for Simon’s mug. The kettle’s heat faintly stretches to the handle, warming the inside of your hand as you tilt it back up right, cutting off the stream of water.

Between your preoccupation with making breakfast and the low rumble of kitchen appliances, the absence of running water going unnoticed as you bustle about. It isn’t until you hear Riley’s paws scrabbling against the cold kitchen tile from where he was laying down, bounding to the entryway with happy growls, that you realise Simon has finished in the bathroom.

The tag on Riley’s collar tinkles as Simon rubs at him aggressively, deep thuds as he slaps his hind with affection, charging the pup up with a shower of love that has him whining and squirming in enthusiasm. You can hear Simon rumble soothing affection as he makes his way across the kitchen to you with padded footsteps, pacifying Riley back down to a lively bouncing buzz as he comes up behind you.

You turn in Simon’s arms as you feel them trap you to the counter, resting on each side of you. The pout you give him is smothered by the kiss he plants to your lips, soft and minty with the taste of lingering toothpaste, and he pulls away.

“Our boy got you up?” He mumbles into your shoulder, a smile in his tone while his lips graze against your skin, his hot breath washing against it.

“Yeah, thought I’d get started on breakfast ‘til someone interrupted me. Not hungry this morning?” You query, bringing up a hand to run through his soft, still damp hair.

“Jus’ wanted to shower first, didn’t think you’d be awake before I finished.”

You grunt in response, closing your eyes and relaxing as his arms embrace you. His hand dwarfs the side of your head, pulling it against his clothed chest as the other slips around your back, rubbing it gently. The soft patter of his heartbeat lulls a sense of sleepiness back into you, and just for a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re not back in bed. The tranquil trance is broken as Simon pulls away, arm still around your back. “Want a cuppa?”

You chuckle, detaching yourself from his embrace. “Already made one, made yours too.”

His socks rub gently against the tiles as he turns to the counter, letting out a rumble of appreciation as he walks over to grab one. “Didn’t even notice. Too good to me, poppet.” He hums, sipping at the steaming tea before returning the mug back to its spot. You return his affection with your own happy hum, grabbing the spatula from where you left it on the bench before your arm is stilled by a firm grip.

“Didn’t you say you made a cuppa already?” He teases, taking the spatula from your hand as he gently bumps you to the side. “Go sit down, let me.”

You cross the kitchen to the little table pressed up against the corner, placing your hand flat against the wood to feel for the edge before you put the mug down and take your own seat. Running your thumb along the ridges and bumps of your mug, you listen to Simon’s movements as he works in the kitchen.

“Want everythin’, full plate?” He asks, stirring the content of the pan.

“Yes, please.”

It falls silent again as you sip at your drink, taking in the wide shape of your man blocking the light of the stove’s overhead. His figure is dark today, even in the light of the room, but from being within them, you know the only thing wrapped around his arms is the extensive, intricate ink he’s described to you.

“Got plans for today?” His voice carries over the sizzling, interrupting your thinking. You hum thoughtfully, leaning back in your chair before responding.

“Yeah, actually. Wanted to go for a walk to the park, got some fruit scraps for the ducks. What shirt is that?”

The clank of Riley’s tag announces his captured attention at the word walk. He trots from his place of hovering at Simon’s feet in hopes of stray scraps, moving to sit next to your chair and nudge your thigh with his nose, and Simon snorts at your question before he answers. “Was hopin’ you wouldn’t ask that. S’the one Johnny got for me, skeleton on the front with the extra bone.”

He emphasizes the last words in a mocking Scottish accent, huffing playfully as you laugh against the rim of your mug at the memory. “That was a good one. I know I heard Price chuckling at that one, I don’t care what he says.”

The hinges click as he pulls the cupboard open, grabbing plates out to serve up the food. The metal of the cutlery clinks against the plate as it hits the table with Simon’s delivery, taking a seat across the small table. Finding its home tucked behind your ankle, his foot rubs the back of your calf, a gentle up and down. You give your thanks with a smile as you pick up your utensils and dig in, taking time to savour the food as Simon’s figure hunches over with each bite into his toast.

“You want to go right after?” He questions, voice thick with a mouthful of food.

“I think Riley wants to go right now,” you giggle, and Riley whines with a huff at his name, tail sweeping across the floor as he presses his muzzle against your thigh.

“Comprise with right after,” Simon affirms fondly, pulling off a piece of meat to offer Riley who gobbles it down with a series of dramatic slurps. You rub his muzzle affectionately as you finish the last of your plate, and the big pup returns to your thigh in hopes of extra feedings. He huffs when your fingers only deliver apologies, moving away to scratch noisily at the metal of his collar. Simon scoffs as he reaches for your plate, stacking it on top of his as he rises from his chair. “Reckon ‘e’d eat until ‘e was sick if we’d bloody let ‘im.”

You stand up with him, brushing off your gown and pushing your chair in. “Well, let’s go before he gets any more excited, or he won’t last until we get our shoes on.”

Simon laughs quietly, putting the dishes in the sink before following you to the bedroom. His clothes ruffle as he shucks them off, chucking them into the laundry basket as you open the closet. Running your hands through the orderly fabrics, Simon slips behind you, hands on your hips.

“Something loose, nice to walk in,” you hum, answering his silent question as you feel Simon’s arm brush across your shoulder as he reaches for something.

“The blue one?” He suggests, pulling away to redress himself, and your hands trail to the one he’s talking about. “Looks good on you.”

The compliment sways you, your hands sifting through the rack of fabric and tugging the clothing off the hanger before letting your dressing gown fall to the floor. Before you can fully pull the cloth over your head, the gown brushes against your feet as Simon grabs it, grazing against you again to return it to the closet. He already has socks in hand, giving them to you as he calls Riley out the room, who scrabbles from his bed to follow. You pull the socks on, grabbing the bag hanging from your doorknob as the sound of Riley’s whining grows louder with each step to the front door.

Simon’s form grows as he rises from the floor, and you can hear him nudge your shoes across the floor to you. Sliding them on, you reach for your cane on the wall as the click of the leash connecting to the harness sends Riley onto another cacophony of excited yips. “Ready, love?” Simon’s face is obscured moreso than usual, hiding behind his cap as his mask slightly muffles his words.

“Ready!” You chime, wrapping the strap of your cane around your wrist. The breeze is slightly cool against your face as you step out the door, waiting for Simon to lock it. Riley sits with restrained excitement, tail sweeping as you reach down for his harness to double-check it’s secured into the lead. When you stand up straight, the rough callous of Simon’s hand grazes against your inner arm, feeling for your hand, and you allow him with a small squeeze as your fingers intertwine.

“Got the fruit.” He shakes the bag as you walk into the street, the click of your cane setting a comfortable rhythm. “Thank god,” you mutter, “or it’d be a short time at the park.”

The walk is tranquil, only interrupted by Riley’s pauses to sniff around eagerly or mark his territory at each streetlight and fire hydrant. The familiarity of the path you walk frequently aids your confidence, easily navigating each rise and dip in the pavement and avoiding the bins that’ve been put out for collection.

Peals of laughter and squeals echo through the fresh morning air as you near the park, the faint quacking of ducks punctuating each pause of audible joy. The high-pitched, youthful clamour grows with each step of your feet against the pavement, and by the time you’ve reached the park’s entrance, there’s a much busier buzzing than usual from the playground.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightens just noticeably as Riley leads the way, well accustomed to the routine as you move away from the noisy children. The walk is slower with more people to avoid, though Simon’s inherently insinuating nature often creates a wide berth that you’re silently thankful for, leaving you to focus on avoiding any sticks or rocks that have found their way onto the path.

The clicking of your cane dies as you veer off the path, replaced by grass squeaking under your feet as you head for the bench overlooking the lake. Instead of letting the cane graze across the ground, you raise it to tap from left and right to minimize the chance of getting caught on the uneven dirt and jabbing yourself in the ribs.

When the bench becomes more defined, you retract your cane, tucking it into the holder of your bag. The sturdy wood of the structure is smooth under your fingers, well-kept with maintenance as you reach for it, and your bag thunks heavily next to you as you sit.

Simon takes his seat a moment after, tying Riley’s leash to the armrest before settling next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He fiddles with the knot in the bag, the rustling of plastic combined with a grunt as he tugs it open. Extending your hand expectantly, he grabs a handful of fruit before giving it over, sitting it in the palm of your hand.

The presence of humans has attracted a few braver duck who waddle up with a noisy swish and a shake of their feathers, quacking cautiously at the big, furry dog parked almost on top of your feet. Simon coaxes them in with friendly grumbles, throwing cuts of apple that hit the grass with a quiet thump and send the ducks into a flurry of feathers as they fight to peck it first.

A few slices of fruit later and the ordeal has drawn in more ducks than you can distinguish the noises from, crowding around the bench without getting too close to Riley. Simon describes each funny-looking duck, teasingly insulting them or characterising them in silly ways that make you giggle. “Got a big arse, that one, talk about fuckin’ boyant. An' this little fucker keeps pushin’ in. Y’know what – oi, back of the line, you – there y’go, someone take ‘is spot.”

With the sizeable group of eager beaks to snap up the food, the bag quickly empties, leaving you with nothing but plastic to stuff back into the draw. The crowd of ducks disperses as they realise the feeding has come to an end, disinterested in your friendly, waggling fingers or the hungry way Riley licks his lips. The pups’ patience has worn thin, which he makes clear with his gentle whines and huffs as he licks impatiently at your leg. When Simon unties his leash to give Riley more room to walk around, clinking against the metal legs of the bench, Riley bounces up to stretch with a dramatic yawn, digging his nails into the ground and tearing at the dirt.

Simon’s amused snort makes you smile, and you assume he catches the way his reaction tugs at your lips, as his hand slips into yours again. “Glad I have you,” he murmurs into your ear, planting a soft kiss against your head.

You turn your head to press a kiss into his shoulder, taking in the smokey smell of his jacket as you prepare to get back up again. “Glad I have you too.”

#jams writings #rep!reader writings #simon x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon x you #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #ghost x vision impaired reader

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