#simon. let's go to therapy together.

[soap-ify]

nsfw below , mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader.

02 — you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am.

chapter summary — after chaos broke out during your work, simon attempts to comfort you in his own way.

tags / cw — angst, reader almost has a panic attack, reactions from bad anxiety, reader is yelled at, verbal assault, violence (simon beats someone up), tending to wounds i don't know how that thing works, just reader and simon being awkward, simon is very self aware, smut 18+, outercourse, grinding through clothes, p in v. [3.8k words]

☆ reader written with afab anatomy but gender neutral terms.

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

If you had the choice to disappear into the void, you would.

The cafe was quite crowded, which was a good thing for the place but not so welcoming for you. The customers kept on rushing in, rambling out orders while you hastily gave them their stuff while trying your best to not mess anything up. You knew the others were working just as much as you, and you didn’t want to seem selfish by thinking that you were having it the worst out there.

Though your brain truly was horribly overwhelmed with the amount of faces in this small cafe. The heat made your head throb, causing you to rub your hands over your face and take a few deep breaths, afraid that you’d break down in front of everyone, feeling your palms getting clammy. It was so hard to keep your voice controlled and polite while talking to the others, making sure that it didn’t crack.

You despised busy days.

Simon was sitting alone at the far edge seat inside the cafe, a cup of bitter black coffee on the table while his brown eyes blankly stared at you, observing your struggles that you seemingly masked quite well in front of others, but well, not for him.

The rest of the taskforce wasn’t here today since it wasn’t a weekend, and normally Simon himself would have never willingly come over at a crowded place like this. But he was feeling too restless in his apartment. Maybe he just needed fresh air. His mind kept on making dumb excuses, even though he was fully aware that he just wished to see you.

Plus it was always somewhat comforting knowing that he would keep you safe.

You were aware of him, aware of his eyes on you and words couldn’t describe how grateful you were. It was as if his familiar presence was the only thing keeping you sane during this shift, knowing that once this was over, you could talk to him if he’d let you.

You had just given the person standing in the front of the queue their coffee, watching them leave before the other person came at the front — some guy who was probably around your age, looking at you with a wolfish grin plastered on his lips that sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“What would you like, sir?” You asked politely, fumbling with the fabric of your apron behind the counter, thankfully hidden from everyone’s sight. Inhale, exhale.

“A large cup of espresso, sugar.” That man replied, the pet name causing you to internally grimace. Fucking disgusting.

You silently nodded and went back to go over to the coffee machine, only to find out that one of the ingredients had run out. Today truly was your unlucky day.

A wave of panic shot over you as you walked over to the counter once more, facing that man. “I-I am sorry, sir… It seems like the espresso can’t be made due to the shortage of some stuff…” You were unable to hold in the little stammer in your words this time, your breath hitching at the way some anger began making its way over to that man’s face, his mood taking a huge swing. Volatile.

It scared, no, terrified you to see someone angry over something you said. It reminded you of your own parents, reminded you of things you no longer had wished to recall at this point.

“Fuck you mean shortage? What kind of cafe is this?!” The man snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you, his seething rage causing you to freeze on your spot. Fuck, everyone was looking. You hated this — hated the way you flinched at his loud voice, hated the way everyone was staring at you, silence taking over the cafe before soft murmurs could be heard here and there. Gossiping about this.

As if this was just a joke to them, as if all of this was normal.

“I-I understand your anger, sir… But—” Your words were cut off by his impatient slam on the counter. Your eyes widened and everything for a second seemed too silent, too unbearable. Don’t panic, don’t panic…

“You useless slag. Why don’t you just quit this job and—”

“Fucking get off her, you bastard.” A large hand grabbed the strange man’s collar and shoved him out of your sight, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Simon. You had almost forgotten that he was here too. Another wave of humiliation and helplessness hit you as you just stood there, feeling like a weak idiot.

You didn’t even have to speak, not that you were going to, before Simon pulled the man back up on his feet. “You. Come with me.” He growled and dragged the man out of the cafe, leaving behind an unsettling thick layer of silence caused by the commotion. Over a fucking coffee.

Everyone saw it. Everyone saw you getting yelled at. Everyone saw you being fucking useless.

You soon realised that tears had begun blurring your vision, causing you to hastily undo your apron and scurry off into the staff room.

Simon had that horrendous man thrown into an eerily quiet alley with no one in sight except them both.

“Who do you think you’re messing with?” He growled under his breath, fingers curled up into fists, knuckles a bit bruised and bleeding after having repeatedly punched the man on his face, resulting in a broken nose and some broken teeth. Honestly deserved worse.

Simon didn’t know why he was so angry. He just hated seeing you already on the edge before this man just came in and messed everything up. How dare he yell at you? Scumbag. Simon wanted to spit at him and throw him in the bin like the fucking garbage he was, but he knew that someone could always walk by even in an isolated alley like this and he definitely didn’t want unnecessary attention.

Adrenaline was coursing through Simon’s veins and he could hear the blood rushing into his ears. He looked scary above the man, brown eyes wide and deadly. The fact that his face was covered in that balaclava made him look all the more inhuman.

Thank goodness you weren’t here to witness this.

In Simon’s mind, this was who he really was. Roughened up and turned into this rageful mess after years of brutal training and even worse missions. Trained like a fucking dog. Maybe that was what he was. A dog. Not a human, just a pathetic dirty thing who only knew the worst, who only knew the wrongs.

He was his own poison, killing himself on his own.

With one last kick on the stomach, Simon left the man to weep alone in the alley. He didn’t have to deal with someone like that anymore, all he could think was of you and how you probably were feeling right now.

Your manager had luckily let you end your shift early today, albeit still having scolded you for creating such a ruckus inside the cafe. For ruining a nice busy day. It made your throat tighten, making you feel as if everyone was blaming you for this. Maybe it really was your fault.

You silently stood outside the cafe, staring down at your hands that were clasped together, your fingers visibly trembling. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to clear the fog in your head. Your moment of silence was broken by the familiar sound of soft footsteps nearing you.

Yes, you had memorised his footsteps. You knew everyone’s, actually. And his were your favourite — oddly soft and quiet, juxtaposing to what you initially expected from someone of his size. He was probably very skilled in sneaking up behind the people.

Simon silently stood besides you, not uttering a word. For a whole minute, it was just silence between you, your eyes nervously darting around before landing on his hands that were uncharacteristically not covered in his usual gloves that he wore all the time except for when you both were all alone.

And that’s when you noticed it, his bleeding knuckles.

“Simon…” You breathed out in panic, voice laced with concern as your eyes repeatedly shot back and forth between his face and his hands. What the fuck happened?

“Didn’t want my gloves getting dirty.” He mused gruffly, his eyes slowly looked down at you, causing you to knit your brows even more.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, love. No one is.” He finally mumbled after a few seconds, one hand of his reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. He really wasn’t bothered by the mild cuts on his knuckles. In fact, he really didn’t care. He wasn’t even thinking of bandaging it.

“Let’s go to my place.” You urged him, lips a bit pouty while worry was etched over your face.

He couldn’t help but find you adorable.

Once you both reached your apartment, you were quick to push him onto the couch and hastily grab a first aid kit, scurrying over to sit beside him on the couch.

“Show me your hands.” You mumbled softly, causing him to reluctantly let your gentle hands hold his callused, larger hands. What a contrast. He felt guilty for making you hold such a dirty, damaged thing.

You were quick to clean up his hands, carefully touching the cuts with the cotton pads. You didn’t even want to imagine what Simon was capable of. Your eyes scanned his hands carefully, admiring every scar on his skin.

You never really thought much of it. Sure you knew that he was in the military, always doing some sort of highly dangerous work. But you never really saw that side of his — scary one. So it was fairly easy to forget his real strength until moments like these came to remind you. Though you never really disliked him for it.

You don’t think you could ever dislike him. He was just… everything.

Ever since you both have come to your place, all you could think about was how he stood up for you. You didn’t like pity, but the fact that someone cared, especially if that someone was Simon, made you feel all the more warmer aside.

He did care for you, right? Were you too fond of him? Too in awe of him?

You dabbed some antiseptic on the cuts before applying some cute panda bandaids on his knuckles. He stared at them questionably, brows furrowed though an amused scoff soon escaped his lips behind the mask. “You don’t own normal bandaids?”

“These are normal!” You grumbled, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Just kiddin’... They are cute like you.”

You got up to put the kit away and wash your hands before coming back to sit besides him, pulling your knees to your chest, silence filling the room up once more.

Simon could see how you were still shaken up, the frown etched on your face accentuating the storm of thoughts raging inside your head. It made his heart ache, though he didn’t move a muscle at all, silently staring at you from the corner of his.

He didn’t know how to comfort you at all.

All he knew was how to handle guns and beat up people. All he knew was how to ignite a sense of terror within people.

Simon didn’t want to think of himself as a monster, the word alone making him think of no one other than his father. He wasn’t that man, he wasn’t.

He sighed behind his balaclava after a while and shuffled a bit closer to you on the couch, his arm brushing against yours.

Your body tensed up for a second, and he was just about to back away once he sensed it before you eventually relaxed and leaned into him, a trembling sigh escaping your lips. He was warm, and you couldn’t help but think of him as a blanket that was shielding you from the world. A protector. Though he really wasn’t that, right? What even was he to you?

You didn’t want to think of that right now, not when your brain was already so exhausted after everything that happened today, the little bit of confidence you had already shattered.

Simon’s hand slowly snaked behind your back, drawing lazy discreet circles on your waist through the fabric of your shirt. You could make out some of them — a circle, then a star, then some random incomprehensible shape that he probably just made up on the spot and then a star again. This act of his made you smile a bit, your eyes fluttering up to look at him, only to find him looking back at you.

You had caught him staring at you multiple times before, but this moment felt so different — more cozy and intimate. It made your heart skip a beat, your brain feeling all foggy due to the sudden wave of happiness shooting within you.

Simon probably noticed the change in the air too since his hand was quick to pull back and settle on his lap, fingers drumming on his thigh, pretending as if nothing happened. It left you confused, disappointed even, but more so at yourself then at him. Why were you making every little interaction with him such a big deal? He didn’t like you the way you liked him.

Simon was silent for a while, multiple thoughts going on within his head. His large hand slowly drifted towards you once more, this time towards your thigh, fingers absent-mindedly caressing you. Well, he could comfort you in the way he knew of.

Your body was quick to react to his touch, your breath hitching while you were simultaneously a bit embarrassed of how you were so used to his touch, used to the way his caresses would make you squirm. You could already pick up on his intention behind this, to somehow get your mind off whatever happened in your job today.

“C’mere, love…”

His callused hands pulled you onto his lips with ease, holding onto your hips, your face facing his, eyes meeting. You swear you could feel the world slowing down every time your eyes would meet his, his stare alone coaxing you to lean into him, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck while your fingers curled up into the fabric of the large grey hoodie he was wearing.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise.” His gruff voice came out as a whisper, making your heart swell yet ache at the same time. Yes, please take care of me, these words repeated over and over in your head while you sheepishly nodded against his neck.

His hands were quick to work, not letting you do a single thing, lifting your hips up gently as he slid down your pants, carefully removing them all the way down, letting it drop to the ground. Your hands reached down in attempted to undo his pants, though he just lightly smacked your hands away and shook his head, huffing softly as he unbuckled the belt and unzipped his pants on his own, tugging them alongside his boxers just a bit so his cock was free from the restraints, already semi-hard.

Your mouth watered at the familiar sight that always made you all heated up and blustered, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes stared down at his cock, admiring the veins that adorned it. It was just perfect — girthy and uncut.

“Simon…” A meek whine left your lips while your eyes literally pleaded him to do something, anything to just somehow make your mind empty, to let you forget about everything, to let you pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that you were with him.

His cock twitched at the noise you made, one hand of his tight gripping your hip in position while his other hand gently grabbed the base of his cock, beginning to rub the head against your clothed cunt, watching the way a wet patch was forming on your panties.

“D-Don’t tease me like this!” You grumbled, nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt the swollen head of his now hardened up cock bumping against your clothed clit, making your hips bucking towards him, desperate for more.

“Don’t nibble your lip like that, love. You’re gonna bruise it.” He breathed out, his eyes falling onto your lips that looked so kissable, making him clench his jaw behind that balaclava of his. No, he couldn’t kiss you.

He continued to play with you like this, rubbing and smearing his precum on your panties, continuing to grind against your clothed cunt, ruining this pair of panties. You mentally noted that you should buy some new ones this weekend.

It wasn’t until a few moments later that you started to feel the familiar tight knots building in your abdomen, a soft whimper leaving your lips while your fingers tightened around the fabric of his hoodie, desperately grinding back against his clock. “P-Please, please, Si… So close, pl—”

He stopped, gently pushing you slightly backwards on his lap so his cock was no longer touching you. A frustrated sob left your lips as you glared at him in confusion, eyes all glossy and he couldn’t help but grin behind his mask, noticing how adorable you looked like this. He already knew that he had successfully distracted you from your thoughts. He knew this wasn’t the ideal way. Hell, he should have actually cuddled with you and shared some comforting words. But fuck, he can’t. He shouldn’t. He is already being selfish enough with this whole thing you two have going on, and he definitely doesn’t want to risk progressing into something more.

He was a fucking asshole, he knew it. He knew of how he didn’t deserve you, and you definitely didn’t deserve a broken, fucked up in the head man like him. You deserved better.

But you two were already so far into this, weren’t you?

“Ssh, don’t worry. Gonna make you cum properly.” He assured you, gently pulling you into him once more, his fingers pushing your panties aside and giving your throbbing clit a few sweet rubs before positioning the head of his twitching cock in front of your entrance, looking at you while you were looking down at the spot your bodies were about to be connected at, literally swooning.

“Please…” You pleaded, feeling his cock gently smear your slick all over your folds before beginning to gently push into your tightness, a quiet grunt leaving his lips at the way you clenched around you, still struggling to fully get used to the way his girth would stretch you out. Your head fell onto his shoulder, panting softly as you tried to relax, feeling him slide into you slowly, inch by inch until he was fully snug inside your tight cunt, the cloth of your panties gently grazing against the side of his shaft.

“Takin’ me so well, aren’t ya? Always do. That pretty cunt of yours is so perfect.” He praised hoarsely into your ears, his affectionate words driving you over the edge, feeling him begin to lazily fuck his cock in and out of your fluttering cunt, hitting the spongy spots inside you with ease, as if having them all memorised within his head. Shaky moans would leave your lips at the blissful feeling, eyes rolling back into your head once you felt the head of his cock slam against your cervix, him making sure that it wasn’t painful at all. His hand massaged your hip gently, fondling the flesh and gently guiding you to grind against him while his other hand slid in between your connected bodies, caressing the moist skin of your thigh before moving in between to lightly rub your clit, feeling you clenching around him tightly.

You felt fuzzy, leaning into him fully to let his warmth relax you, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against you while your eyes fluttered shut, head fully nuzzled into his neck. You felt the knots building up again, even stronger this time, leaving you with no time to warn him before your orgasm washed over you hard, your walls spasming around him while a muffled moan left your lips, his fingers rubbing your clit just heightening up your sensitivity. He breathed heavily, his eyes filled with adoration at the way you cummed around his cock, his shaft having a white ring around him, filling his heart with a sickeningly proud feeling at the realisation that only he was capable of making you cum so hard, of making you get rid of all those thoughts.

His own orgasm flooded within him soon after, balls tightening up as he pulled his cock out of your cunt and gave it a few pumps, spraying the thick strings of his cum all over your sweaty, trembling thighs.

Both of you were breathing heavily, tingles spreading through your skin that made you smile at how full of pleasure you felt right now, all floaty as you fully collapsed onto him, clinging onto his tight while his sticky cock rested against your inner thigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

“Si… Thank you so much…” You sleepily babbled, your breathing getting calmer.

He wished that he could show you the stupid smile that was spread on his face right now.

“I am goin’ to go for deployment after two days.”

He randomly announced that night, causing you to freeze and look away from the movie you both were watching and towards him, eyes all wide. What the fuck? And here you were being happy that he had decided to stay with you tonight, having agreed to spend some time with you.

You were making it all up, all this happiness and whatever feelings and signals you thought you were getting from him. Deployment. God, you hated that word and the way it filled you with dread, the way it always left you all anxious during the weeks he’d be away, fighting god knows who, literally a mistake away from walking on a bridge from life to death.

“How long…?” You quietly asked, trying not to seem so fazed by his sudden words, fingers fiddling with your shirt while your eyes looked away.

“Dunno… I believe it won’t be longer than two weeks. Don’t worry, love.” He mumbled after a while, subtle warmth lingering in his voice as his hand reached to gently caress the back of your head, causing you to sigh softly and lean into him, frowning a bit.

“Okay… Stay safe, Si.”

You trust him. Of course you do.

Liar. Fucking liar. It had been three weeks, three weeks without any contact from him, or any news from him. He wasn’t on this mission with Kyle as far as you knew, so there was no point in asking him.

Was Simon safe? Was he wounded? Did he get captured? Did he get tired of you? Is he finally getting rid of you? Is he… abandoning you?

You tried to shake these thoughts off your mind, trying to remember that his job was a hard one. Still, you stupidly kept grabbing your phone, desperate for any notification or noise.

Only to be met with silence.

notes : thank you so much for the support on the previous chapter :( !! i feel truly grateful. also... feeling evil i love fucking stuff up for simon.

#simon. let's go to therapy together. #simon is struggling #like actually #my projection on reader is crazy on this one #yaaiad : masterlist #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

[schrodingerscougar]

You send boyfriend!Simon Katy Perry's song ‘Unconditionally’ because you heard it on the radio and it reminded you of him. It makes him realize he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, so he buys a ring and asks you to marry him the next day. You say yes.

Husband!Simon can't stop thinking about you when he’s on a mission somewhere far from you. He even talks about you a lot, making Johnny annoyed with him very soon. Gaz asks questions, hoping to find out more about the one and only Mrs. Riley, while Price only smiles and shares his own experiences with the lieutenant.

Two years into your marriage Husband!Simon can’t help but notice the distance between you and the wall you’re building around yourself. You work late, you hang out with your friends, you don’t talk much. If he tries to start a conversation, you’re quick to shut him down with some ridiculous excuse.

Ex-husband!Simon tries to keep in touch with you. He sends you messages on your birthday and different holidays, wishing you well and asking if you’re doing okay. He even talks to your father every now and then since the old man always loved him as a son.

It’s clearly not an accident that you meet ex-husband!Simon at a friend’s birthday party. You were both on good terms with them, and as it turned out, she tried to get the two of you back together by inviting you to the event. When you want to leave, he offers to let you stay, but in the end you both stay.

This party is followed by written conversations, short messages that reach beyond curtesy. Ex-husband!Simon once asks you if you’d like to grab a drink, and five hours later you’re in bed, bodies entangled under the sheets. “What now?” you asked him as you’re lying next to each other. He says he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to lose you again.

One year later you and Simon get married again, this time setting rules so your relationship couldn’t fade again. You will talk. You will go out on dates. You will even go to couples’ therapy if that’s what you need to stay together.

Another year and a half later you and husband!Simon celebrate your son’s first birthday in the company of friends and family. Finally, you both know things would be all right.

#ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #mw3 #call of duty #mw2 #modern warfare

[houseofoddballs]

OK, wow, a lot of you really wanted to go for the "good" ending, right? Well, I'm sorry, but there was no good ending. Enjoy my little oddballs! Final word count is about 2,400 words!

Tw: aggression, angst, emotional hurt, vulgarity, physical abuse? Tell me If there are more to add!

This wasn't working. You stood inside your bathroom, propped against the sink as you stared into your own eyes. They just looked so sad now, so hollow. You could remember Simon cupping your cheek as he stared into your eyes under starlight and murmured against your lips how much he loved seeing them light up around him.

What you wouldn't give to have that again. Staring up at the stars with Simon, his fingers brushing through your hair. You missed the soft mumbled apologies whenever he would catch a snag, and the way he focused on you more than any silly constellation.

"Why stars?" You had asked him, on probably the third date where he took you stargazing with either a picnic or just some takeout. I mean, this was Simon after all. Deep, brooding, knew all of the vital organs and arteries on the human body, etc. He didn’t exactly seem like the soft stargazing type, especially with as clumsy as he was at romance.

You were met with a gruff grunt and a shrug at the time. But later, once you two had eaten and were just laying back together, hand in hand, he answered your question. "'S because no matter where I'm deployed, I know I'm always lookin' up at the same sky as you."

You were snapped back to reality by a sharp rap at your door and the voice of a Scottsman who you had began to secretly loathe. "Aye, lass, ya' mind bringin' up the wheely bin? Ghost said he would take the trash out if ya do." A soft sigh was leaving your lips before you could even process his words, turning away from the reflection of your despondent hollow eyes.

Snow crunched under your feet as you trekked out of the garrage to fetch the trash bin from its place next to the mailbox. Cold seeped through the thin layers of your clothing, a frigid therapy to clear your mind and remind you that you were alive. It was uncomfortable, but in the most comfortable and enveloping sort of way. Like a hug that lasts a bit too long from someone who you know just wants to help.

Hugs. You missed those.

Your eyes flicked up to the night sky, moving between the stars like a pachinko ball bouncing off of celestial pegs. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time to put yourself first for a change. The very thought made your stomach twist and churn with guilt, but you were far beyond guilt at this point. It wasn't healthy for you to spend afternoons sitting on your floor with you back pressed against the door so you could just listen to Soap and Simon talk without intruding on their time. It wasn't healthy for you to make yourself dissappear just to please an overgrown child. It wasn't healthy for you to beat yourself up over standing up for yourself and what you needed.

So, this was it. You had to be done. Simon had been given more than enough chances to put you first, and he hadn't taken any of them. Simon had simply stayed off to the side complacently as Johnny pushed you further and further away. So beit then.

Soap won.

You didn't bother packing most of your stuff knowing that it would only make it harder to leave, and if you let yourself think about it too much then you were going to stay trapped, haunting their broken relationship. No.

Your favorite clothes, toiletries, and other things went into your suitcase as you finally decided to free yourself. With every item you packed, it felt like another link was cut from the chain that was wrapped around your neck, trapping you here. And yet, there is terror that comes with freedom. You canceled your phone plan that night and waited until Ghost and Johnny went to bed to make your move.

Guttural grunts and lewd moans were your signal to move, rolling your eyes as you left a single sheet of paper folded neatly on your bed. Neither of them hardly ever came to check on you, so you reckoned that you had at least a week before even Simon noticed your absence. Unless, of course, Johnny noticed your car missing. But, even if he did, it didn't matter. This was it.

"Goodby, Simon. I loved you."

And then you were gone. Tossing your suitcase in the back and driving off into the night. The stars were, and always would be, a painful reminder of Simon. But they say that time heals all wounds. You would just have to test that.

no. No. NO. NO!

Simon's hands trembled as they clutched the small piece of paper from you pillows, eyes tracing over and reading each line until he couldn’t make out the words through the tears welling in his eyes.

Gone. You were gone.

His angel, his sweet, his world, his everything. As much as he tried to fool himself into asking why, he knew the answer.

Simon loved you desperately. After everything that had happened to him, his father, losing his family, being buried alive, being hung by his ribs, all of it; after all of it was when he had met you, and Ghost felt truly alive in a manner he had never felt before.

There were quite a few differences between feeling alive in the heat of battle and feeling alive with someone you love, and yet, both of them made Ghost acutely aware of his pounding heart, both of them made Ghost's stomach twist up in knots, both of them brought blood to Ghost's face.

And Ghost wouldn't have had it any other way. Ghost had spent so long being Ghost, that he was starting to forget who Simon was. But you changed that. A simple holiday with Price, that was all it took for him to meet and fall so ridiculously in love with you that he walked around base with a dopy grin under his Skull balaclava at the thought of you texting him.

As Simon numbly sat on the edge of your bed, clutching so tight to the paper that he was afraid it might shred, your entire relationship flashed before his eyes.

Your first date, your first hug, your first kiss, your first time, When he told you his real name, the first time he took off his mask in front of you, the first time he broke down to you. How could he have been such an idiot?

Simon tired to think back on His and Johnny's relationship in a similar way, but it just wasn't the same. They had been great friends in the task force already, so when they were both captured together, of course that was when things had to change.

Sure, he had fallen for Johnny's kind words and beautiful eyes when they were tied together and bleeding on the cold concrete. Ghost should have known better!! But when the stubborn Scottsman confessed so sweetly so that he wouldn't die with any regrets, well, it was hard not to feel touched.

But they just weren't compatible.

Johnny was loud, immature, selfish, didn't think very far ahead, and he was just so clingy. And, yet the thought of leaving him made Simon's heart ache whenever he thought about it. Johnny didn't treat him like he was in love, but Ghost was sure that Soap loved him in his own way.

But it wasn't worth this. He tried calling you, searching for you, emailing you for the queen's sake! But he found nothing. You had been so isolated that you didn't really have any friends that Simon knew of. He was just lost.

He should have taken the ache of being honest with John over this overwhelmingly hollow torment in his chest. When you left, you took hardly anything, but you took everything from Simon.

The world became colorless, music lost it's rhythm, food lost it's taste, life lost its luster. And Johnny? Well, he became a lot harder to tolerate.

"Did ya hear their makin' a new-" "Not now Johnny." It was like he didn't care. Didn't care that you were gone, didn't care how badly Simon was hurting. "Is this about the lass again? Look, I'm sorry Si, but it's not your fault she didn't care enought-"

"Shut up." Soap looked at Ghost in shock for a moment, a brow quirking up. "What?" "You heard me." Now Johnny's brows were furrowing, his lips setting into that stairght line that meant he was about to win.

Something about Soap? He was impossible to argue with. He would argue in circles to the point where it didn't matter which side he was on as long as he won, which was incredibly frustrating to say the least and made any arguments completely pointless because he would win in the end out of sheer exasperation. It was just easier that way. But not this time.

"Shut. Up." "Look, ya' ken nae go blamin' me for the way she left! She-" Simon was up in an instant, a hand around Soaps throat, effectively shutting him up and pinning him to the wall. Johnny reached up and clawed at his wrist as Simon squeezed just a bit too tight, he could feel Johnny's windpipe being crushed into itself. But he didn't care. Not right now.

"You absolute fuckin' nubty. You just don't get it, do you? Well, seargant, let me spell it out for you, you dense fuck." Simon's eyes were burning, but this wasn't Simon anymore. He could almost feel his balaclava over his face as he glowered down at Soap, eyes filled with disdain and mallace. This was Ghost, someone who hadn't been out to play in years, despite the name sticking around.

Soap winced as Ghost tightened his grip even further, a snarl meeting his lips as he spoke. "She was MINE. And I was hers. We'll use a pie for the sake of your small. Fucking. Brain." Each venomous word was punctuated with a twitch of Ghost's hand, a lingering desire to just squeeze all of the life out of Soap right here and now.

He could see Soaps eyes rolling back as dark spots were inevitably clouding them. That was no good. He had to be awake for what Simon had to say. Ghost loosened his grip just enough to allow Soap the bare minimum of blood and oxygen before delivering a harsh slap across his face with his free hand.

"Ah ah ah sausage, stay with me. So, the pie. She goes and gets a third of the pie because I'm in the military and she doesn't get to see my beautiful mug very often. Then, she hears that I'm coming home for good. She gets all of that delicious pie. Ya' followin' me Johnny?" A strangled nodd. Good. Ghost didn't care about the strangled noises leaving soap or the way that tears pricked his eyes.

"Good boy Johnny. So, she thinks she's getting all of this pie that I am. And then, I come back toting your arse along like some fucking new pet. Well, now she thinks she only gets half of the pie. But she still agrees because she was a fucking angel." Ghost's voice was cold again, filled with the same gruffness that the military had imparted into him.

Ghost hadn't been out in ages. It felt good. Ghost could feel Soaps pulse under his fingers, feel his lifeblood. It was intoxicating. He loved that look of pure terror, missed people looking at him like the monster he was.

"Except, instead of half of the pie, she's still only getting a third, because SOMEONE is a greedy fucking pig. Wonder who that is, Johnny?" Ghost cocked his head to the side as he dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny's neck, reveling in the way that he winced.

"And then what happens? This little piggy goes and takes even more of the fuckin pie. You just keep taking and taking and TAKING until all that was left was fucking crumbs. Do you get it now? You fucking muppet."

Soap nodded furiously as he gripped Ghost's wrist, trying desperately to pull him off. But it wasn't Ghost's fault Johnny hadn't been working out as much. Five years ago he would have at least been able to put up a fight. This was just pathetic to Ghost.

"And so, she lapped at your fucking crumbs like the good girl she was, because she fucking loved me. Do you love me Johnny?" Ghost cut off Soaps nodding with a glare. "I know your cock does, but that's not what I'm asking. Do YOU love me? Because I don't think you do. I think you love having someone complacent to you. You love thinking you have complete control and having everything bend to your fucking whim."

Ghost pulled away finally, letting Soap crumple to the ground coughing and clutching his neck. Ghost just shook his head and made his way to the door, grabbing the keys to his jeep off the rack and his familiar skull balaclava as he did so.

"Pick yourself up. Shits about to change, and I'm done letting you walk all over me. You better hope I find my girl again, or you better be gone when I come back. Your choice Johnny."

It wasn't good, wasn't healthy by any means, but everyone had a breaking point.

And you? What did you do? You lived. Love was definitely off of the table, but you managed to find a place to stay with a nice landlord who helped you find a job in your new small town. A nice older gentleman with sandy chops and a fatherly disposition. He became your best friend. Romance was dead to you at this point, but he was just so gentlemanly and sweet.

Little did you know that Price had forbid Simon and Johnny from your life after what you told him. He was protecting you in more ways than you knew from both the devil you knew and the devil you thought you knew. Simon was ravenous, like a rabbid dog desperately trying to get to you. But Price wasn't going to let him hurt you anymore.

And he didn't.

#soap cod #cod modern warfare #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost #soapghost #john soap mactavish #ghoap #fanfiction #x reader #angst #is this a happy ending. #i dont know #but I liked the idea of tying Price i #let me know your thoughts! #my writing #writing #my work

[lovers-rck]

fic rec where someone from the club hosts a party and reader and hazel go and they get a little drunk and pj locks them in a room together until they admit their feeling to each other and things get a little hot n heavy :)

intentional lowercase ;) thank you!

also i did a very vague correction so forgive me if there are any mistakes! english is not my first language.

☆

"seven minutes in heaven!" you hear pj yell and run away, except that you and hazel weren't playing that game.

hazel chukled and went to open the door, almost tripping over a ball of dirty cloth. She grabbed the door handle and tried to open.

the first time doesn't work, but she knows she is a little bit drunk and maybe she was opening the wrong way. the second time doesn't work either, and that's when she starts to worry.

"it's locked" she says "pj locked the door"

"what? " you say "let me try" the room is dimly lit, highlighting the worried features that took over hazel's face.

you grab and try to open the door. one, two, three times later you realized that, in fact, is locked. pj locked the door and ran away for who knows how much time.

"im sure this is one of her pranks" hazel looks at you, her eyes a little sleepy from the alcohol "she will come back in a few minutes"

but you are impacient. three minutes has passed. you look at the posters in Annie's walls, all with a inspirational quote about women and printed pictures of Simone de Beauvoir. five minutes. hazel groans in protest, looking at her dirty shoes and thinking why she didn't clean them before going out, she's embarrassed now. seven minutes pass. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelv...

"pj!" hazel screams "pj let us out please! i already apologized to you when i said that you only created the club to fuck cheerleaders! please!"

for the next ten seconds the only things you hear is hazel's voice, she's loud and desperate, her hands hitting the wooden door for so long that you almost find a rhythm.

eventually hazel gives up, and in a matter of seconds all the loud noises that she made earlier end up causing her a big headache. she feels less drunk than before, but the after feeling isn't so much better. then she looks at you, sitting in the floor, your legs crossed like a kid and your eyes resting. you were a chill drunk, hazel was a chaotic one.

she find a very strange feeling looking at you, something growing in her stomach. hazel never saw you the way she was seeing you now, always admiring you in secret, always playing the fool when you catch her eye in between classes or practice. she knew that this wasn't product of the alcohol, and that scared her.

so she tried and is currently trying to ignore that little feeling growing inside of her, that little tiny and obviously-not-romantic feeling that became stronger everyday.

okay yes. she was in love with you. so what?

it was not a big deal. it's not like at the very sight of you she becomes dumb and slow and words come out of her mouth like vomit without thinking. it's not like she freeze everytime you touch her or grab her hand. it's not like she is completely, hopelessly, in love with you.

okay it was bad.

"we have to get out of here" hazel says "I'll become anxious and you know i left therapy last week!"

so you get up and grabs hazel's hand. you guide her to sit in Annie's bed, standing in front of her and demand her to breath with you.

inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

you don't let go of her hand at any time, and neither does hazel. you look at her, her eyes are closed and her lips swell as she exhales the air as you taught her. you look at her and the sudden impulse to scream what you feel for her invades you.

but you two are friends, and friends don't do that. friends help each other without expecting anything in return. but you realized that you didn't want to be hazel's friend when after every shared moment you expected something in return, something to give you a hint, something to answer the doubt that has been in your heart for a long time.

¿did she look at you with those eyes in purpose? ¿did she caressed your cheek in accident that one time? ¿did she makes jokes about couples with you just for the laughs? ¿did she likes you?

the last question is the worst, you consider.

"thank you" hazel says, and you smile slightly in return. always waiting for something else.

and you think she gaves you something in return when you feel her thumb caressing your hand. she stares at your intertwined hands, and so do you.

shyness takes over your bodie, and the giggly and playful hazel disappears. it was always easier to pretend that nothing happened, that all the touches were accidents and all the looks meant nothing. to pretend that they were just meaningless feelings.

but neither of you can do that anymore when you feel hazel pull your hand slowly, bringing your body closer to hers but leaving a space, leaving open the door of regret. you close that door the moment your free hand caresses her face and she smiles at you.

"can i..."

"yes" you say "please"

she obey and guide your bodie to bend down slightly for her to kiss you. you inhale sharply when her lips makes contact with yours for the first time, and suddenly a scared feeling takes over your body

but hazel grabs your face and you understand that there is nothing to fear when you are with her.

her kiss is delicate and slow, but hungry. she grabs your legs and sits you in her lap, not getting enough of you. her mind cannot comprend what is happening, but is unable to stop it. her fingertips swim across your skin, trying to memorize every feeling, every texture that is so new to her.

she fears that she might be a little rough or fast with you, that maybe she crossed the invisible line. she freeze and for a moment she just stay there, her forehead against yours, breathing and trying to process the last five minutes.

"did i do something wrong?" you murmured

"no, no, you did nothing wrong"

"what's wrong?"

she swallows and hold your hand "nothing is wrong"

"don't be scared"

"im not scared" hazel replies, hating how you read her so easily. you raise you eyebrow "okay maybe i am a little scared"

"of what?"

you heard how the girls are laughing at something downstairs.

"i don't know" she exhales "im afraid you won't be my friend anymore after this"

"we were kissing and you were all worried about our friendship?

"yes!" she replies "your friendship is very important to me"

"i know" you gently put a strand of hair behind her ear "your friendship is important to me too. im not gonna ignore you after this if that's what you fear hazel"

"okay" she nodds "okay"

you laugh slightly "okay"

and you kiss her again, more desperate than before. hazel quickly responds to your body and grabs your waist, pushing you towards her.

you move slightly in her lap and she gasp. the strap of your shirt falls off your shoulder and hazel leaves your lips to find a home on the skin of your neck and shoulder. she kiss and bite the flesh, your breathing becoming a little louder.

in a bold act, you grab hazel's hands and place them in your breasts, hoping that she would catch the sign.

and she does, so she moves you shirt up and start massaging your flesh, you nipples alrrady hard to receive hazel's hands. you whimper lightly when you feel hazel's tongue, leaving a trail of kisses all over your tits.

her hand starts going down when you both heard the lock of the door and a scream

"oh my god!" pj screams and hazel cover your breast with her hands in panic "oh my god! guys! guys! oh my god"

pj jumps and start running away, her screams invading the house

"it worked! guys it worked!" pj screams downstairs "the were sucking each other's titties!"

and all the girls scream with her.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #one shot #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #save willow #havana rose liu #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #isabel bottoms

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

What is Simon 'Ghost' Riley actually like in a relationship (according to me)

A/N: I know this isn't anything like the things I usually write fics about but if I don't get this out of my system, I will spontaneously combust into flames from thought overload. There is a lot of great fics about him out there, 100%, but there is a steamy pile of garbage as well which makes Simon "an abusive asshole" to quote a TikTok I recently saw - and I couldn't agree more. So, here is my soft take on this tough guy and I hope you can enjoy reading this despite it being pretty far away from everything else on this blog.

Warnings: mentions of torture, violence, weapons, PTSD, profanity, explicit sexual themes but also so much fluff and softness

A/N pt. 2: I base this on Ghost's backstory according to the comic books as well as the video games but this is just my take so if you imagined him differently, that is totally valid!

* * *

Firstly and most importantly, Simon is a very different in his private life compared to his work; meaning he is good at separating the violent side of his work life from the life he has with you.

He must be the softest, the most gentle person there is when he is with you. I think he is very shy in the beginning as well as in early relationship given how his father treated him growing up. It is not that Simon wouldn't trust you, it's more that he would not trust himself. After all, after the Manuel Roba operation, he was tortured for months and came out with severe anger issues.

However, he was able to resolve this when he re-joined the military and engaged therapy but the scars remained: both mental as well as physical.

The reason why Ghost never takes off his mask is because of the scars Vernon and the lot left on his face (and the rest of his body). They are healed now but whenever he sees them in the mirror, he is reminded of everything he has been through, especially the loss of his family.

After Simon had told you why he keeps his mask on even in private life, at least the bottom part, you would not mind it as much but you would also reassure him that the way you feel about him could never be changed by some scars.

Needless to say, Simon would be very, very protective of you. He has lost everyone he has ever loved and cared about and he would never allow the same happen with you. It must be said though that Simon is not possessive. He above all knows the importance of freedom, especially when it comes to making choices about yourself and your comfort.

Still, Simon would face some control issues when you'd go out on your own. At work, he is used to being in charge of everybody, making sure everyone is safe and manning their positions. But with you, he needs to remind himself you are not going to war but just out with your friends, out grocery shopping, out to the library or somewhere. The thought of losing you drives him insane. He could never forgive himself if it happened when he could be by your side instead.

It goes without saying though that Simon prefers the comfort of his home to just about any other place. Clubs give him anxiety and the loud music triggers his PTSD, bars and restaurants are okay here and there but there is no place like home.

He does enjoy hiking and walking with you though.

Simon is romantic by heart so picnics in the nature would be his go-to dates. A bottle of wine, cheese and olives, a blanket in a spot with a view... You'd trace his features gently with the tip of your finger; the curve of his nose, his lips where he'd take your hand in his and kissed it softly as you would lay together in a secluded spot somewhere.

Bonus: when you decide to go home, Simon would never let you help carry any of the things he'd brought. Maybe the blanket but everything else, he'd pile up in his massive arms and carry them all the way home while barely seeing over the heap.

When it comes to sex, Simon would be just as reserved as with taking off his mask in the beginning. He would need much assurance from you that you really wanted to be with him intimately before trying anything.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon would never do anything that could even remotely hurt you when you had sex (or otherwise). On the one hand, he is well aware of his size and strength, and on the other, it is his childhood trauma that keeps him from trying anything that could potentially hurt you (even choking, spanking, etc. is not something he is comfortable with) even if you'd ask him to experiment.

Simon has seen, felt and inflicted too much violence in his life to have it included in his love life as well. All he wants to do is make you feel safe and loved especially when you have sex because this is one of the ways he expresses his love to you.

His sex drive is not that high but when you do have sex, he likes to make it special and intimate. Simon is very serious about it and wants you to enjoy yourself more than anything. To be honest, just seeing you climax causes him do the same.

He enjoys going down on your very much; the intimacy, the softness of your moans, his arms locked around your thighs when his fingers are not intertwined with yours.

Simon's favourite part though is the aftercare. He loves cuddling with you. Physical touch is yet another of his love languages although he was very reserved in the beginning of the relationship.

He is the big spoon the majority of time but sometimes (his favourite) Simon lays his head on your chest, wraps his arms around your waist and lets you play with his hair. He can fall asleep almost instantly.

It cannot be stressed enough that Simon never ever EVER raises his voice at you. Even when you are having an argument (which is not often), he never yells much less gets violent in any way.

He is a great listener and despite not saying much a lot of the time, Simon communicates well although he struggles very much to word his feelings.

After an argument or just for no particular occasion at all, Simon gets you flowers (a lot) - and different kinds every time. Another way for Simon to apologize is to cook for you. He is not very good at it but it is the effort that counts.

When he is away on a mission, Simon calls you a lot just to hear your voice, especially when he is too stressed to fall asleep. Your voice calms him down and help him get some rest but also reassures him you are alright whilst he is not there to keep you safe.

Simon likes to listen about your day, your feelings and your ideas. It keeps his mind far away from dark places. But every now and again, he would trust you with a fragment of his memories when his thoughts are just too loud. You know how precious and how rare it is that Simon opens up to you.

You don't say anything when he talks about his memories and his family but you always hold his hand, brushing your thumb across his calloused knuckles or drawing gentle shapes against his broad back.

You pepper his skin with soft kisses when his voice quietens and lead his head to rest against your chest as you pet his hair.

He likes to listen to you sing too, even if your voice is not the greatest. Even just humming a random melody and feeling your chest vibrate softly beneath his cheek will ease his heart.

Random bonus: Simon drinks English breakfast, no cream and one cube of sugar and has an occasional cigarette with it (Marlboro).

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare 2

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Soundly (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

Summary: You’ve injured your arm, leaving you frustratingly helpless to complete everyday tasks, like cleaning yourself. Your boyfriend and colleague Simon understands your apprehension towards accepting help for such a task and tells you how he does.

AN: Working title was “Sprain” for those of you who voted in the poll. I’ll be posting the Soap fics shortly and posting another poll for my other upcoming fics afterwards! Meanwhile, let me know what you think in replies or inbox me, tell me your thoughts on fics - present or future. 

I just want Ghost to feel loved and to recover from all the shit he went through. I did a fic for that and sharing a bed, so I’m doing this one for the reader a.k.a. me. Plus I like the head canon that Ghost is actually kinda talkative, like in the Alone mission. I know he’s probably partly chatting to Johnny to because he’s trying to keep him focused, guiding him to regroup and survive. But he’s telling dumb jokes and joking about watching his torture video. He’s got banter and trauma!

Content warnings: Allusions to Ghost’s time being tortured by Roba and the Mexican Cartel - specifically his SA as well as the reader’s. Reader is GN, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // AO3

For “just a sprain”, your elbow hurt like a bastard. It was resting in the hammock of the sling your doctor ordered you to keep on. Almost smugly, it sent a few stings across the bone when you were also instructed to restrict your movements and get support to complete day-to-day tasks before you were signed off on a month’s medical leave – pending review at the end of it for being brought back to work.

It was half your fault. The sprain in the first place was caused by some asshole who would not go down quietly and attempted to dislocate your limb. Thankfully, your training automatically twisted you into a position preventing that but then you had to shoot that asshole and your gun was in the arm he’d injured. The bullet that you fired solidified the damage and you were forced to focus hard on aiming with your non-dominant hand whilst slugging it over to the Heli half a klick to the west for recon. You didn’t have to shoot the guy straight away. You’d kicked him down and he was too far from his own weapon to have made it before you could have swapped your gun to your other hand and ended his life the same miserable way. But nah, in the heat of gunfire, you’d decided to end the fight as quick as possible then ran like a bat out of hell back to safety where the rest of your crew was headed.

Simon had known you long enough – and dated you long enough – to not treat you like glass. He wouldn’t insult you like that. Therefore you were very grateful that he was the one to take you home, and that his driving was a lot steadier and smooth on the motorway.

Letting you open the front door, he carried both his and your bags inside, ready to start your medical leave this instant. He was heading out of the hall with his shoes dropped loudly onto the rack when he asked:

“You want anything specific for tea?”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever.”

Despite years of therapy, this injury had dealt a hefty blow to your pride; you didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you were going to be over the next few weeks. Thank God you’d been to his place enough times for it to be considered familiar.

From the airing cupboard, you collected the towel that Simon had bought you after your fifth stay here and smiled at the memory of shopping for it together. He’d asked for what colour you preferred then gathering other items into the trolley that were the same shade: toothbrush, wash cloth, cup to sit by the bathroom sink. He was nice like that.

The bathroom door locked behind you, the final ebbs of afternoon reaching in through frosted glass. You thanked the sun for enabling you to keep the lights off; the buzz that accompanied their stark spark on the silky tiles was always too much for you. However as warm as the daylight was, it failed to soothe your state. When you tried to retrieve the memory of how you’d gotten this t-shirt on in the first place, your mind offered you a blank slate and tears of frustration bubbling over, stinging worse than the injury as you tried to warp it against its will. But to no avail. Your bitten tongue surrendered so that the crying could commence with your t-shirt still stuck on your body.

Gentle rapping at the door didn’t halt anything. Surrendering felt like an admission of weakness, failure, and it poisoned you against yourself as you twisted the lock in the handle and slumped on the rim of the bath.

A pair of plain-socked feet appeared at the top of your line of sight, lingering on the cobalt carpet side of the door frame.

“Can I borrow your scissors please?” You asked, toying with a stray string dangling from the hem.

“You gonna stab me?” Simon inquired semi-sarcastically.

“Yes.” It was a pathetic little reply. But Simon pushed off the bath, belongings tinkling against one another as he rooted around then retrieved a small pair of scissors from the top shelf.

He sat down beside you on the rim, holding out the scissors by the blade, “It’s a nice shirt.”

You wiped your nose on the hem before taking the scissors, “It’s just Primark.”

“I can help you out of it, if it is Primark’s finest.”

“Was just cut it off.”

But of course your dominant hand was tied up in the sling, and you only just realised now.

“I could help you take it off.”

You’d never been undressed around Simon. The closest you’d gotten were jogging bottoms you’d cut into knee-length shorts and the sleeves of your t-shirt pushed onto your shoulders whilst you both worked out at opposite ends of the gym. Towards the end of your set, you mopped at your brow with the hem of your shirt once and the sliver of skin nearly sent Simon into anaphylactic shock.

He knew why you grappled with the notion of undressing. But he didn’t ever linger on you going elsewhere to change. Across your relationship, and even before it started, he’d shown you love in so many other ways that you would forget about what had happened to you.

Today was the first time he addressed it: “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to help.”

Without moving your head, your watchful stare latched onto his adjusting to the nuisance of sitting on a thin perch of porcelain. He withdrew his skull balaclava from its suffocating in his pocket and began kneading at it until the eyehole faced the ceiling you’d stared at many times, wishing you could be more intimate with the man you loved more than life.

 “Your reasons aren’t so different from mine.” And he held out the mask to you.

The olive branch was accepted and you thumbed over the skull plate as best you could with the scissors still in your grip. Only when your thumbnail caught against the paint depicting a cheekbone did it dawn on you what your boyfriend was referring to.

“Simon-”

“None of that,” He interrupted you, gently, firmly, “I get it. I don’t wanna bother you if you don’t want me here.”

He rubbed along your shoulder as you matched your deep breaths to his, resting your eyes to bask in his comfort and crushing the mask in your loose fist. You’d always equated it to anonymity. Never had you thought of linking it to another form of comfort.

“You can bathe with your clothes on,” Simon suggested after a minute’s silence.

“Do you know how hard it is to remove wet denim?” You muttered with a crooked smile.

“I do,” and he pressed a kiss to your forehead – his preferred place to do so. “Let’s give this a go.”

You handed back his balaclava and took in his bare face, the medical mask – the one he’d been wearing whilst you were in the hospital and all the way home - gone, his expression carefully crafted to be neutral so that you didn’t have to be.

He eased your sling off you after the taps were thundering steaming water into the tub. Then he vanished to his room, returning with a pair of baggy sports shorts. Cradling them like a baby, your nose welcomed their softness and the steam whilst Simon knelt onto the fluffy bathmat, nodding after splashing the bathwater and twisting the taps into silence.

“I’m gonna stink if I don’t wash properly,” You whispered.

After opening his palms to you, Simon took your shorts and arranged them on the floor, “I’ll get you some wet wipes to use while we wait for your arm to heal up.”

You held onto his shoulders whilst he undid your jeans and eased them down your legs, his hands careful to stay hidden in the fabric whilst you stepped out of them and into the shorts. Simon to pulled them up to your hips.

“Why did the magician take a bath?” He asked you as you lowered yourself into the water.

“I dunno, why?”

“To clean up his act.”

Your chest quivered, struggling to hold in your groans and giggles whilst Simon pumped some blueberry body wash into his palm, “That’s good.”

Tenderly he circled the soap across your forearm, “Fancy another?”

“Go on.” You were nothing if not his little enabler, indulging in his humour even after the rest of 141 had lightly roasted him for it.

“Knock, knock.”

Your free hand fiddled with the sodden hem of your t-shirt, “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

Soaking the flannel and wringing it out over your arm, Simon began to wash the suds away, “Dwayne the bathtub before I dwown.”

Your smile was not dampened by the tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the shallow waterline. Instead, you focused your blurry vision on Simon’s hoodie sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, those broad forearms sprinkled with droplets and soapsuds.

When Simon was lathering up some more body wash, you offered your own joke: “What did the man say after he swallowed a clock and went to the toilet?”

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Simon snorted loudly whilst carefully manipulating your injured arm amidst the blueberry bubbles.

You wiped a new tear away on your shoulder: “I’ve already told Kyle but you can tell it to Johnny.”

“Much obliged.”

With permission and a slow touch, he started soaping up your shins. His contact always lingered for hours on your skin. This felt like a polish, not a scratch or a dent, which is why you felt so overwhelmed now, just as you did that first time he gave you a proper bear hug. You didn’t mind the blueberry, something else to focus on instead of letting yourself meander towards conjuring disturbing imaginations of what you’d just learnt about Simon’s capture in Mexico.

He let you take over for washing your thighs, sitting on the toilet still talking to you with a smile that cracked up his face like the scar, from lip to brow. His eyes never strayed from your face, though it never felt like you were a target down his scope, more like feeling the sun first thing in the morning with a delicate breeze that danced around your being. Such a gaze wasn’t alien to Simon, even if he rarely showed it to you, and never to anyone else. You were just grateful that he was able to be like this, and that he still chose to.

That same stare, he held it whilst draping a towel around your shoulders, patting over your arms before he gathered it at the front for you to hold in your healthy hand. Then he collected a pile of clean clothes from the bedroom, placing them onto the closed toilet lid, you noted the crisply ironed button up folded on top. You settled for nestling your head against his chest since you were unable to hug him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The door was locked after Simon disappeared behind it. You did end up cutting yourself out of the shirt, rest in peace. Fogged-up, the mirror wasn’t so bad to stare at whilst you moisturised with your good hand. You could still feel where Simon’s calloused hands had brushed over your skin, tingling in each follicle, and it was protected by the button-up you were able to slide on – one of the few Simon owned. His bulk was once again your gain; the shirt was loose enough to give you some wiggle room whilst dressing.

Clattering from the kitchen caught Simon in the act of putting away the ironing board. He was taking loud and rehearsed deep breaths that hissed through the fabric of his freshly-donned balaclava, the board under his arm before he tossed it into its assigned slot. His hand shook as it released the cupboard door handle, searching for something to distract himself with until he latched his stare onto you bunching your shirt in the front.

“I can’t do my buttons up,” You said quietly.

Your stomach impulsively sucked in on itself when his hands reached for the buttons before it, joining them with the fabric. Nevertheless, your gaze found solace in the thatch of fine chest hair growing in the lowest peak of his V-neck.

Simon started from the bottom button and made his way up. With each wince, his fingers stalled. But you knew he’d never hurt you, never on purpose and never like that. He made steady progress until complete and even helped you replace your sling. But then he sniffed and brushed his nose briefly, stepping away and back to the kitchen. For five minutes he alternated between sifting through the cupboards and staring helplessly into the fridge, his face washed out by the stagnant light inside. You took the time to help him in one of the ways you knew how.

“I’ll order us a takeaway.”

Immediately he slammed shut the fridge door, “You’re a fucking star.”

You were not put off by his pacing back and forth, nor were you by his hovering over you like a gargoyle whilst you tapped at the screen – which you held in a way for him to see clearly in case he wanted to add something. A wide berth allowed you to approach him on the couch with the takeaway when it arrived half an hour later (always reliable, hence why it was your go-to takeaway place). Simon also accepted the drink you brought him, but only because he’d already gotten you one plus two pain meds he made sure you took after getting some food into your stomach first.

The cushioned lap trays you’d invested in were already paying for themselves.

Dinner inhaled and rendering you quite soporific, you mirrored Simon’s earlier actions and tentatively shuffled closer to him, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” His arm dropped to around your waist, and you tugged on his wrist to keep it there. Only then did you tentatively wrap yourself around his full belly.

“Fuckin’ softie,” He said under his breath. That didn’t stop him from giving you a little squeeze – his hand no longer trembling - and sinking himself lower so that there was no pressure on your sprain. He turned the volume down a little, which sparked inspiration in your mind.

Half hiding in his t-shirt, you projected loud enough for him to hear you: “The local TV controller museum shut down due to no visitors. Turns out people aren’t remotely interested.”

“Have you been researching these instead of doing your paperwork?”

“What makes you think I haven’t been doing my paperwork?”

Simon looked down at you, those expressive eyes communicating both the “are you fucking for real?” and the “you’re lucky you’re cute” in equal parts. But from the way his balaclava was balanced on his face, you could tell he was smiling at you. So you smiled back at him then snuggled back against him with a contented sigh and the existence of your new joke book still a secret (for now).

The next time you opened your eyes, it was much darker in the living room. A blanket was tucked around your legs. The glow of “Are you still watching Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang?” from the flat-screen, despite that not being what you were watching when you first drifted off, bathed you in enough low light to allow you a comfortable adjustment period. You squinted up at your boyfriend. Head back in the pillows, his chest was rising and falling with each breath he drew and released through his nose. You adjusted the blanket around to cover his legs too and, tucking yourself back into your bundle, both you and Simon slept soundly.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley oneshot #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod oneshot #mw2 fanfic #my writing #r: gen #wc: >2k

[sickuma]

ORPHIC (2) — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is the last part of HIRAETH ! I don't want to drag it any longer than this. It's so much fun writing this and exploring more words to add to my vocab! Everyone's been nice (except when they give me their therapy bills) I love you guys srsly, You make writing so much more fun <3

I should have gotten this done HOURS ago, but I had to do stuff and just finished working out T-T but hey, writing block isn't killing me rn.

ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic. Angst warning!

➴ SYNOPSIS — Ghost mourns of what's lost; reminiscing of the memories, apologizing, begging for you to hear his desperation for your presence as he sat Infront of your tombstone.

QUERENCIA — (n.) A place from which a one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

“Relationships in the military,”

He spoke, pausing to stare at your eyes. Searching for hesitance,

“They tend to be tragic.”

“But we’ll be together, no?”

“look , kid, it's not as easy as it sounds—”

“Do you feel the same way?”

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak. Catching ‘the’ simon ghost riley off guard, “Yes.” he breathes out.

“Then I don't see the problem, lieutenant, I love you, you love me. That's what barney said.”

He stares at the void, remembering yet again another memory he kept special in his heart. He wondered if you had not pursued him at that exact moment. Would he still feel the raw pain that plagued his heart now? Would it still hurt all the same?

If you hadn't stubbornly shown him how determined and real your love for him was, would he still be in this position, dreading every day that comes knowing the person he needs the most was taken from him.

throwing his gear onto the side. Making his way back to his quarters without giving anyone a second glance,

Ever since you've been gone, the base has been awfully tense. The rest understood his situation, trying their best to be there for him, all while attending to their own duties. The past few weeks had been the hardest, They could tell Ghost had been on edge.

He’d only speak to them if it's necessary, otherwise he’d be kept to himself. As if the past had repeated itself, there appeared a gap between his friends and him. He was mourning, and he plans to keep mourning,

If that means having you on his mind,

Then he’ll mourn forever.

“Ghost?”

Price’s eyes widened at the sight of Ghost, 

It’s the first month since you've passed away and the rest of the team planned to pay you a visit to show respect and also let you know how missed you are, not just by them, but also by Ghost who seemed to have shut his whole world out.

He saw how Ghost shown a tough facade when he would hear him call for her,

At night, when everyone slept, Ghost cried and wept for you to come back. Begging aimlessly for your return,

Begging endlessly to feel your arms around him again.

Price didn't expect him to be joining them. He hadn't been. The team visited your resting place a couple of times before, he’d invite him but he’ll make up reasons not to go. Price figured he still hasn't accepted that's where your body lays,

The ride to their destination felt almost eerie, the tension leading the hour long drive. Nobody dared to speak, not a single word.

Ghost’s mind resides elsewhere, watching the scenery they drove past. Chest heaving up and down as he struggles to fathom that he’d finally visit you, 

No—he was more occupied with thinking about how it’s only been a month.

It felt longer than that. It felt longer than his training days. He felt more exhausted, more agitated, and more angry. He resents every breathing thing he comes across to,

He knew it sounded cruel, but why do they deserve to live and you don't? You have been the kindest, and yet you were taken first. He couldn't understand,

As a soldier he’d lost multiple comrades, having to face funerals—visit the cemetery, and deal with death itself. Though yours felt unreal,

It felt as if his bones were crushed. He knew how pathetic it seemed, clinging onto someone who's never coming back, but he'd rather cling onto the past if it means having to hold you close to his heart forever, where you belonged.

、 

Everyone got out of the car,

Everyone but him.

Price sighed, not planning to pry. If his breath felt shallow just by being here, he could only imagine what Ghost felt at this moment, considering it was his first time to ever be here.

A few minutes passed, and the three sat quietly at first until soap had cracked a dad joke, lifting the atmosphere just a little bit. They spoke as if you were there, sitting with them, price would constantly glace at Ghost, who sat quietly in the car. He wondered what ran through his mind.

“We should give him his own time to talk to [name].” Price groaned as he stretched when he stood up, the two following closely behind him. “He needs this.”

Ghosts' eyes caught them approaching. He felt his stomach sink. He knew he planned to wait until they finished before he took his turn as he expected himself to break down and shed tears. He didn't want them to see that. And yet he still felt his heart beat faster when they came back,

Price threw him a small smile, a smile of empathy.

As if that's his cue, he jumped out of the car. Taking slow strides towards ‘your’ direction. He never thought he could ever despise a cemetery so much in his life,

The only thing he could think of was the way you laid down there, away from his grasp.

No matter how slow he walks, he soon finds himself in front of ‘you’, oh well—a stone that only proved to him that you're gone. “Have you been waiting?”

He couldn't believe it,

He was talking to a mere stone.

But he’ll take what he can get.

“Wake up.” he stared down with an expressionless face, “enough laziness, [name]. Get up from there.”

“You can have all of the shirts you want from me, you can pluck my eyebrows, do it, you can get a puppy. Anything you want just— just wake up.”

His voice betrayed him the more he spoke, 

The longer he looked at the stone, the way he kept reading the credentials written on it, the more it felt real. Every passing second is just another evidence of your disappearance,

“You always call me mean,”

He swallowed,

“Yet you're the one who left first.” his cold gaze softened, the more he looked at the ground. Under the ground where your body laid.

Where the body of his lover slept eternally.

“How do I find you now? Now that I'm stuck here?”

He recollects his promise, the promise to reunite in your next life. It all pierced through him. He’s a soldier, yet he finds himself worrying about the most ridiculous thing. What if you'd reincarnate before he passed?

What if you leave him behind again,

What if this time you find someone else to love?

What will he be then?

“Remember when you'd go on tangents about how fascinating reincarnation and universes are? I believe you now, okay? So— so wait for me.”

He sat down, quietly enjoying the breeze. He couldn't deny the pain of the piercing ache that developed in his chest. It never really went away. He would simply distract himself.

“I find it hard to sleep again, love.”

“The bed feels colder without you in it. Do i sound cheesy? Do not make fun of me. I want to be honest. Maybe doing that would lessen the overbearing hurt in my chest. It’s just—it’s only been a month since youre gone and im already a fucking mess. I mean, look at me,”

He chuckled,

“I look rough, dont i?” he sighed, “would you still find my eyes pretty even when i tire them out by crying?”

He looked away, observing the serenity of the cemetery. He wondered how many souls wandered around, and if yours were one, and if you stood close to him.

“I feel—just terrible. When I woke up, I thought I'd finally lose it, well I did. I caused price trouble, you'd have scolded me. I really did it this time, pushing everyone away as if you'd come back to tell me off. That's not ever happening, and that's what hurts the most.” 

He spoke slowly, yet he felt out of breath.

“It feels suffocating—you know? To live without you.”

“I don't know why I woke up, I wished I didn't. Maybe then I'd be with you.”

“It’s scary, [name], so scary.” he whispered, the rasp of his voice sounding more evident. “I have no certainty if we’ll see each other again; and I need nothing more than to hold—to feel you again. To hear your voice, to take in your scent. If I have to give everything up for that, I will.”

“Anything just to have you back to me.”

He stared at the words engraved on the tomb,

“but if i have to wait decades or centuries—i will—without hesitance, without a blink, i will. For you, I'll keep being patient.”

“That's how worthy you are [name]. So wait for me please, no matter how long it takes for me to find you again, please wait.”

He spoke lowly, but certainly, no matter where you are, he hoped you'd recognize him, hoping you’d recognize his eyes you loved so much,

“Even if it means i'll have to die again and again, i’ll keep searching for you until we’re back home until i can hear your voice call my name again.”

“Wait for me, [name].”

Hoping you’d recognize your Simon.

、 

Somewhere along the memories,

、 

Somewhere along the universe,

、 

Somewhere along life and death,

、 

Somewhere along—

、 

“Simon.”

“Pardon?” he looked at you, puzzled expression written all over his face. “Whatd you just say?”

“My simon.”

We're home.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost angst #ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost call of duty #cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley angst #mw2 x reader #ghost imagine #ghost simon riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost fluff #call of duty #call of duty ww2

[bravo4iscool]

Could you maybe make a comfort one with Simon or Soap please? Like the reader has trauma and gets triggered by something and has a panic attack? If not that's okay! You don't have to! <33

but what if i did both👀? hehehehehehehe

this is an amazing idea! since you didn‘t mention if reader is civilian or military i‘ll go with military… but technically this could also be civilian lol

all i know about ptsd i know because one of the main characters of my favourite series (ray perry from seal team) struggled with ptsd after he was taken hostage. i’m in no way a expert about this whole topic or anything else…

reader‘s call sign is „venom“. and for the love of god idk how to imitate a scottish accent, so please don’t hate me cuz i didn‘t do it🧍🏼

btw IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG! i’m in my final 10 weeks of school and it’s so stressful😭😭

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

john „soap“ mactavish

soap didn‘t know that something was off. he suspected something—maybe—but he wasn‘t 100% sure. so, when you start to disassociate, your pupils dilating he at first wasn‘t sure how to act.

„ey, ey!“ he nudges your shoulder, a visible frown on his face. „venom? venom, hey!“ you don’t answer, your gaze darting around the room.

he waits another second, wondering if you’ll answer but then it clicks and he knows what’s going on. you’re having a ptsd period.

he carefully stepped away from you and looks around. he needs to find out what exactly triggered you. “i’m gonna step away for a second, okay?” he tells you, taking one step after the other.

your head twitches but you don’t answer, only stumble back a little bit. soap wasn‘t unfamiliar with ptsd, ghost suffered from it too, but he didn‘t know you had to fight it. you‘ve always acted to strong and put together, so what was your trigger?

„soap?“ your weak, rasp voice calls out for him and immediately he’s beside you again, his hand reaching out for you. „soap, don‘t go,“ you plead, your hands shaking when you grasp him, your knuckles white and your grip bruising. you choke out a, „don‘t leave me.“ and he promises he won‘t.

„i‘m here,“ he assures you, carefully and gently removing your hands from his arms and placing them around his waist so he can properly hug you. „i won‘t leave; ever.“

you sink into the hug, your hands crunching up his shirt with your grip. you were save, no? you were safe…

you weren’t…there. you were here; with soap. he was holding you, keeping you sane. you didn’t need to worry about anything.

he’d keep you safe.

simon “ghost” riley

the moment simon realizes you’re having another ptsd episode he’s beside you, his hand hovering over your cheek.

“stay w’me, venom,” he murmurs, his gaze searching for yours. “c’mon… stay w’me.”

when you make no sign to move he slowly exogenous his hand so it fully cups your cheek and he pulls you close.

your hands slightly tremble and you look at him with blown eyes. your breath is staggered and you feel this familiar yet unwanted rustling in your ears. you want it to stop.

“take deep breaths love,” simon instructs you as he cradles you hand in his to hold it against his chest. “j’st like i do.”

tears start to gather in your eyes while you try to focus on simon but your thoughts were screaming at you, dragging you down that hole you didn’t want to drown in.

“y’doin’ amazing,” he whispers in a gentle voice, his other hand pulling your heard against his chest with careful hands. “j’st like that. perfect.”

you let out a couple of chocked hiccups as you try to relax against simon’s body, doing all the tasks therapy taught you.

“‘m sorry,” you swallow in a voice rough from crying.

“no, none of that,” simon frowns. “y’doin’ exactly what y’were taught.” his one hand tightens over your that’s laying on his chest, his other he buries in your hair. with a careful movement he places his chin on top of your head.

“d’nt ever apologize f’havin’ problems,” he tells you in a quiet voice, his hold on you tightening.

he’d never let you go.

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader

[ghostlywhiskey]

Simon “Ghost” Riley - Angel

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,301

Warnings: PLEASE BE AWARE - This one-shot mentions blood & implies suicide. I know this is a touchy subject, so please do not read if this will not sit well with you. Your mental health matters. 🤍

Summary: You, Simon and Soap were injured in a crash. A few months have gone by and Simon is having a hard time with the aftermath of his injuries. 

Notes: I’m so sorry in advance. I actually sobbed writing this. Any errors or mistakes, please forgive me. I couldn’t reread through the tears.

find my masterlist here

The sound of ringing bounces around your head, the dirt on the ground pressing against your cheek. Pushing yourself up, smoke surrounds you as you cough. Soap is groaning next to you, propping himself up on his elbows. “Oi, fuckin’ ‘ell.” He hisses, glancing down at his leg that has a large gash cutting through his pants. You glance over at Soap, quickly crawling over to him. “Soap.” The name coming out of your mouth more as a way for your brain to register he’s alive. The radio on your vest makes an effort to check your status, but your brain is still only just processing Soap is alive. 

Soap uses one hand to press his radio, “Copy. Price, this is Soap. We’re down.”

“Copy. This is Angel. With Soap.” You respond to your radio.

You. Soap. Simon? Where is Simon? 

“Ghost!” The shout echoes out into the abyss of the forest. Any ounce of strength in you felt knocked out from the impact of the crash. Fuck. Where was he? Soap needed help first. Crawling over to Soap, you sit on your knees and examine his leg. Blood, so much blood. Not my blood. Not your own. The reminder echoes through your head, if it wasn’t yours, you could handle it. Grabbing the tourniquet attached to your uniform, you yank it off and quickly tend to Soap's leg. Soap hisses as you tighten it on his leg, “Son of-”. “I know, I know.” You say, coughing again from the smoke. “You’ll thank me when this heals.” You say.

Simon? Where is Simon? 

Once Soap’s leg is attended to, you slowly push yourself off the ground and stand up. As you go to walk, you wince as your left foot goes to walk forward. Just a sprain. You’re fine. Letting out a shaky breath, you limp as you move through the crash site. “Ghost!” You call again, no response. 

“This is Angel. We don’t have eyes on Ghost. Over.” You click the radio, glancing around. Where are you? Come on, Simon. 

“Hard copy. Locate him if you can. Working on a rescue team now.” Price’s voice slips through in one ear and out the other.

The corner of your eye catches a glimpse of a leg under a piece of helicopter debris. No. No. No. Rushing over, adrenaline spiking in your body as you go to try and flip the piece of the helicopter. “Simon!” You shout, not even realizing his actual name left your lips, pulling the debris back. Ghost laid there, motionless. Blood, too much blood. Not my blood. Your fiancé’s. “Simon. No. Simon.” You dropped to your knees beside him, obvious wounds to his arm and leg. But, as you got closer you could see his chest rising and falling faintly. 

“Price this is Angel. Ghost is critical. We need a medic. Over.” You pull your composure together over the radio, but the strain is noticeable. 

“Roger. Keep calm, Angel. Do what you can until rescue arrives. Over.” Price states. 

“Copy.” You speak, completely zoned out as you try to tend to Ghost.

The apartment you shared with Simon was quiet. Standing in the kitchen, you worked on dinner as he was at his physical therapy appointment. The only sound came from the TV that was unwatched, the light from it illuminating the living room. 

The past four months were far from easy. Ever since the crash, Simon had been to multiple doctors and regular physical and occupational therapy appointments. Out of you, Soap, and him, Simon suffered the worst injuries that day. Specifically, his left leg has been doing the worst in terms of healing. The one appointment he did let you come to, the occupational therapist mentioned their concern of Simon not hitting certain marks, but tried to keep their tone hopeful. But, Simon wasn’t thinking in terms of hopeful or possibilities, he was banking on perfection. Complete recovery. 

But, how do you tell a man in the process of trying to heal that complete recovery was unlikely? How do you tell him that without it destroying him and possibly leading him to giving up trying all together? I have no idea. 

Your thoughts were clouded as your body made dinner, as if on autopilot considering you weren’t even thinking about what to do next, you were just doing it. The front door opening turned your brain off autopilot and back to manual. Footsteps, in unison with a crutch tapping the floor, made their way to the kitchen. 

The presence behind you radiating warmth as lips kiss the top of your head. “Hey.” Simon’s voice filled your ears as you felt his hand not grabbing his crutch rest on your waist, face leaning down to nuzzle your neck. “Hey, baby.” You say softly, stopping what you are doing to turn and face him. “How was the doctor?” The genuine and simple question that could set the mood for the entire night. “Same as always.” He responded, his hand moving to brush a piece of hair behind your ear before he leaned down to kiss you softly. 

Weird. That is the most calm response he has ever given after an appointment. Maybe you are being paranoid? 

Kissing him back, you reach a hand up to place on his neck and pull back gently. “How about you go shower? I’ll be done with dinner by the time you get out.” You smile up at him, the hand on his neck sliding down to his chest to pat him gently. He doesn’t protest, nodding to your suggestion as he heads to the bedroom. 

As he walks away, you resume cooking dinner. You hum softly as you move around the kitchen, trying to avoid letting your worries plague your mind. 

After a few minutes, you hear the sound of something falling on the floor followed by a thud. Your head shoots up as you look towards the bedroom door, the knife in your hand dropping on the counter as you rush towards the room. 

“Simon?” You call out, pushing the bedroom door open. At first nothing looks out of the ordinary until you turn to look at the bathroom door. The crutch lies on the ground, half in the bedroom and half in the bathroom. Simon sits on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall and head tilted back as he winces in pain. “Simon.” Your voice strained, the concern laced with it as you walked over to him and kneel down next to him. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” He snaps, his good leg using the sole of his foot to hit the cabinet in frustration. The action makes you flinch as you reach to turn his face towards you. “Si, are you okay?” The question was laced with hesitancy. “No. I ain’t fuckin’ okay. My fuckin’ leg is shit!” Simon growls his hand reaching for the crutch and throwing it with one arm into the bedroom. The sound of the crutch hitting the floor leaves you unphased as you expect it coming. 

“Simon, you need to give it time.” You say, your hand resting on his thigh and moving it soothingly back and forth against the fabric of his sweatpants. “The fact you’ve made progress is a win in itself. But, you need to give it time. That’s why the therapy appointments are important and listening to what they tell you. Like using the crutch.” The tone of your voice is soft, but serious. And you knew him, the crutch was used around you. It didn’t mean he used it when you weren’t around. You knew better than to take his word for it that he used it, he was too stubborn and thought a good day meant he didn’t need it anymore. 

“Yeah, I’ve made progress, but it means shit.” Simon muttered, his eyes looking down at your hand on his thigh. “I’ve made progress that would be exciting in two months, not four.” He states, his voice cold and distant. “The constant fuckin’ pain and feeling like it’s gonna buckle as any moment is always there.” He huffs, resting his head against the wall. “I’m so fuckin’ tired, angel.” His eyes looked up at the ceiling, before his head tilted towards your direction. 

Simon was tired. He was the kind of tired that doesn’t go away no matter how much you sleep. The stress of his leg, the anxiety that tormented his mind from the crash and aftermath, now finally catching up to him. Everything he bottled up, exploding out as the bottle finally broke. At this moment, on the floor of the bathroom, he was broken. His eyes, the one way anyone could ever tell his emotions behind the mask or not, had the look of complete exhaustion. 

You go to speak, but no words come out. 

What do you say to someone when they feel like this? When all roads have been taken towards getting better and nothing helps? I have no idea.

So, you do what you know how to do best. Just be there. You move his legs gently apart, moving to kneel between them and in front of him. Your arms reach out to pull his body forward by his shoulders, instantly putting your arms around his neck and resting your head on your arm by his head. “Baby,” You whisper, one hand placed on the back of his head to scratch it since you know how much he loves how your nails feel. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you. We’ll figure it out together.” 

Simon’s arms snaked around your body, pulling you close and holding you tight. His own head resting on your shoulder as you felt tears dampen a spot on your shirt. He pressed himself against you, letting the warmth of your body soothe him. It was something he had always craved, your heat.

"Everything hurts." Simon mumbled, the tears making the spot on your shirt larger. "Everything hurts." He repeated. The contact of your body easing him slightly, the exhaustion settling in as his body relaxed, his muscles relaxing for the first time in who knows how long. A sob bubbled out of him as the words slipped out.

"I want it all to stop. Help me."

Sitting cross legged, you sat on the picnic blanket next to Simon. The fall air was cool against your skin, your leggings and one of Simon’s older hoodies you borrowed once and claimed as your own from that point forward keeping you warm. You always loved his clothes - how oversized they fit on you, the scent of his cologne, pine and even the faint smell of cigarettes that lingered. Most people would hate the lingering smell of cigarettes, but it comforted you. Especially the combination it was a part of. 

“Remember when we both said we would leave the force at some point? I’ve been thinking about it recently.” Your voice is soft, almost hesitant to share the information because saying it out loud makes it real. “I’m thinking about getting a teaching degree instead. My mom is a teacher and I’ve visited her a few times to help out and the little kids are so full of life and bright. Pure and oblivious to the world around them.” You speak, playing with the string of the hoodie.

“I wonder what our kids would have been like. Do you think we would have one? Or maybe three? If I could pick, I would want two boys and a girl, I think.” The question you ask comes out strained as you stare at Simon, waiting for his response. But, there hasn’t been a response in a year. The headstone of his grave looking back at you.

It was exactly one year. One year since you got the call while you were out grocery shopping. You don’t remember much from that day, you just remember falling to the ground of the store and everything went black. Part of you thanks your brain from blocking out the day, shoving it to the depths of your subconscious in a box to never be touched and opened.

“I miss you.” Your voice has dropped to just below a whisper. “Why’d you have to leave me? Why was I so oblivious that you weren’t doing better? Why did you tell me you were fine?” You choke out, tears spilling down your cheeks. Delicate fingers are going to reach for the dog chain around your neck. His dog chain with his wedding ring dangling next to it. Your own wedding ring on your finger paired with your engagement ring. 

The wedding rings you bought on a whim one day and promised yourselves to each other for the rest of your lives.

“Angel, let’s go get married.” Simon said, the two of you laying in bed. It was a rainy day and you had spent the morning so far in bed. “Today?” You said, confused by the sudden suggestion. Plans for your wedding had been on hold since the crash, not wanting to add any stress to the current situation. “Today.” He confirmed, slipping out of the bed to get ready. “Come on.” 

That was at 10:00 AM.  Then by the time it was 3:00 PM, you had the last name Riley. 

And two months later, you were a widow. 

“I love you, Simon Riley. I’m sorry if I never said it enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” The tears hitting the hoodie as they drip from your jaw. A sniffle leaves your nose as you stand up, grabbing the picnic blanket to toss over your arm. You kneel right in front of the headstone, placing a kiss on it.

“Thanks for being my angel now.” You whisper, standing up to walk back to your car.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #ghost x reader #call of duty #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley oneshot #simon riley oneshot #i am so so sorry

[peachesofteal]

omg I know I need a therapist probably- but the baby trap au where darling died-- my heart is broken. it was so well written. Imagine Simon and Johnny going home with the Bee and struggling to take care of her without darling. They're grieving and dealing with guilt because they essentially were the cause of her death. the guilt would be consuming. I can imagine them getting into arguments because of the stress and breaking down because they can't care for bee the way darling could. 😭

- 🧀

Cheese anon, you sweet medieval torturer. We all need therapy, clearly, don't worry you're not alone. I live for angst like this. So much love to you. Cheese anon is referencing this ask. (I'm pretty sure)

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / mature themes

"Shhh, shhh." Johnny paces back and forth from the living room, trying to get Bee to close her eyes, go back to sleep so he can also, try to get some rest.

"Is it her stomach?" Simon grumbles from the bedroom door, rubbing his face sleepily, and Johnny tries to take a long deep breath through his nose. "Well?" His partner prompts.

"NO, is not her stomach." He bites out before he can stop himself, anger and sadness and everything else bleeding into his tone. Simon's brow shutters low, irritated.

"I'm just tryin' to help."

"Well, you're doing a shite job of it. Just go back to bed." He huffs, not bothering to hide his frustration, his irritation. He's been up with Bee for hours now, because it's his night, and Simon's supposed to be sleeping.

Bee wails louder in his arms, and he grimaces.

"'m sorry, sweet lass. I'm sorry."

"Johnny." He ignores him. "Johnny. Do you need a break?"

"No, Simon. I need her mum. She needs her mum." He snaps, and Simon tenses, entire body stringing live like a wire. Bee's still crying, and Simon is standing here, shirtless, staring at him, and it's all enough to drive him a little mad.

He doesn't even realize he's crying, until there's warmth pressing across his back, Simon's chest against him, big arms coming around to support Bee's weight in the crook of his elbow.

"Let me take over for a bit." He coaxes, and Johnny shakes his head furiously, but the tears are clouding his vision, and he can't shake the cry that's building in his throat.

"This is our fault." He sobs. "She hates us, and it's our fault. We took her mum away." He can't stop the overflow of feelings now, and barely registers that Simon is lowering him to the couch, Bee still crying in his arms. “How’re we supposed to take care of her, we couldn’t even take care of her mum.” He cries, and Simon doesn’t respond, just sits next to him, still as a statue.

“I don’t know… we have to try.”

“We are trying!” He snaps through his tears, and Bee cries louder in response. “She hates us.” And why shouldn’t she? They did this, to you. To Bee. He doesn’t even fight it when Simon pulls the squalling infant from his grasp, rocking her into his embrace, trying to quiet her.

It’s too much. All of it. Everything. The baby crying. The vase sitting on the mantle. The collection of things they brought from your apartment, everything for Bee’s room that you so clearly picked out with love and care. The baby book, that has a handwritten note on the front page, telling your daughter how much you love her, no matter what. The quilt, that you had made yourself, sweetly pieced together painstakingly over nine long months. A framed photograph, of you at the beach, before you knew them, smiling and carefree. It’s signed with your name on the back, and then ‘your mum’ in quotations with a smiley face.

“Johnny-“ Simon calls to him, and he jerks to his feet.

“I need a break.” He mumbles, not bothering to turn and look back as he pushes through the bedroom door.

#🧀 anon #peaches asks #peaches writes #baby trap au #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Pt. 2

John Price X F!Reader

Johnny and Simon had wanted to broach the subject of speaking with you and discussing the matter of everything that had happened, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be ready.

thank you to everyone who voted for this in the poll! I've been stuck in a rut for forever and needed something to help break that rut. as always feedback is highly appreciated!

warnings: mentions of past injuries, panic attacks, slight vulgar language, Price being protective

While you hadn’t been honorably discharged(which honestly sounded like a much better option at this rate)you were put on permanent desk duty. Learning to walk was a struggle that had taken over the course of a year for you to finally get comfortable with. John had been by your side every step of the way, cheering you on even when you were ready to quit. It had been a nice surprise, knowing he was so supportive. He’d taken a short leave once you had finished the intense physical therapy, wanting to make sure you would be alright. No one had known that you had moved in together, John kept everything quiet for your privacy.

Johnny and Simon had wanted to broach the subject of speaking with you and discussing the matter of everything that had happened, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be ready. You’d started seeing a therapist to get everything off your chest, had it truly been your own fault that you were unaware of how Johnny and Simon felt about you? Of course your therapist was adamant that no, you were not at fault for their actions. They were your comrades, and when it mattered most that everyone was kept safe, you had been caught in the crossfire.

The memories haunt your dreams daily, you would wake up covered in sweat thinking you were back in the enemies hands. John would always be there, calming you down until you realized you were safe, there was nothing there to attack you. Even if the wounds had healed, the constant reminder that you couldn’t even walk around without a cane. 

“Hey, you doing alright, sweetheart?” John was propped against the open door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, just trying to get through this mountain of paperwork so I can head to lunch.” You’d gotten so into your work you hadn’t realized how late it actually was.

“Darling, it’s dinner time.” John raised a brow, had you not gotten up to even get a glass of water?

“Oh, well shit.” You muttered under your breath, reaching over for your cane.

John kept his distance, he’d offer assistance if you asked but never wanted you to feel like you absolutely had to use his arm. It was nice to know he didn’t see you as an invalid, unable to do something as simple as walking. The only times he would ever refuse to let you walk is whenever you’d fallen asleep on the couch, carrying you up to your shared room.

“Got distracted again, didn’t you?” John smirked as you reached his side, he couldn’t fault you for it though, he’d done the same many times before.

“It was all those damn mission reports Laswell sent over. She wanted them done by lunch and I completely forgot.” You sighed, leaning against his chest and breathing in the soft scent of his cologne.

Any cologne, perfume, or body spray was strictly forbidden when on base, but John always managed to sneak some because he knew you loved it so much. No one dared to try and bring it up to John, lest they piss off their Captain and be put on latrine duty. Johnny had wanted to jokingly reprimand him, how wearing cologne wasn’t allowed but then he remembered. Until things had calmed down, he was going to keep his head down and wait.

John wasn’t a monster though, he worked well with his team and made sure that everyone made it back home with no injuries if he could. However, his thoughts were always filled with you, if you were eating, if you were having nightmares. God, he was absolutely smitten with you and everyone could see it.

“I’ll call her tomorrow, tell her not to send reports that are nearly overdue.” John wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own.

“I still need to do my job, don’t worry about me.” You patted his side, smiling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I always worry, gotta make sure my love is doing alright.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, rocking you both gently.

It was a nice feeling, being held so comfortably in his arms. You’d pictured your future together many times, curious if he felt the same way about things. It’d been just over two years since the incident, and things were going well. You had been living together for a little over a year, officially asking John to ditch his old flat and move into yours. It was only because you had the space, and not because of the stairs in his, totally not.

“I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time for me to retire. And before you start freaking out and saying that I don’t need to, I want to.” You’d been debating it for a while, it would be easier to retire and find something else to occupy your time.

“As long as you’re sure, I don’t want you making any rash decisions because of what you believe my feelings would be.” John had been the one to fight to keep you on the task force, and while it was true you didn’t want to disappoint him, you hated doing paperwork.

“I’m sure. I’ll talk with Laswell about getting the paperwork ready.” It would be less stress on your end, which meant less walking and irritating your leg even more.

It would be a change for sure, but you couldn’t let everything from the past ruin what could turn into a bright future for you. ~~~~~~

It hadn’t been your idea to head out to lunch for the day, frankly you were more than ready to curl up on the couch and relax for the rest of the day. So, when John suddenly decided that the two of you should head out to get something to eat, you were suspicious. Now that isn’t to say that John couldn’t be spontaneous at times, but given everything that had happened? You were just a little bit wary of the situation. You’d thrown together a quick outfit, stealing one of his jackets since the air was beginning to chill.

“Well, well, look at this gorgeous lady.” John smirked as you walked over to him slowly. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes jokingly, pressing more of your weight against your cane.

“That’s only because a certain someone decided it was a great idea to head out and get lunch.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling as his stubble grazed your skin.

“And it is, so let’s get going before all the good tables are gone.” John grabbed his wallet before helping you out to the car.

The good thing was that he didn’t hover. Whether it was during your rigorous physical therapy or your current journey, he gave you space when needed. There were times you wanted nothing more than for him to pick you up and just carry you everywhere, but that was overkill. Maybe he would offer to carry you over the threshold if you ever got married.

Marriage, a word neither of you had uttered after your relationship had become more serious, almost as if it were a dirty word. You knew after a few months that John was the only man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and if that meant never getting married, you were happy. Marriage, a family, those were things that you’d once truly wanted, but after all the horrors you’d bore witness to? You couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it would never be truly safe for them.

“I already checked the layout and they do have stairs, so if you need help just let me know.” John’s voice was gruff, low and gravelly as he pulled into the seemingly small parking lot.

“We can check them out first.” You liked being independent, not wanting to feel so helpless at times.

John parked the truck and slipped out before you had even managed to slip off your seatbelt, coming around to your side and opening the door with your cane in his right hand. You swung your legs out of the car, taking the cane from his hand and scooting to the edge of the seat slowly. Once your good leg was on the ground you slowly stepped down with your bag leg. Your arm braced with the cane as you stood up, fully supporting you nodded at John.

John waited until you had stepped away from the truck before shutting the door, the sun was shining brightly as you both turned to make your way to the restaurant. There were two people standing outside, talking with one another quietly enough that you couldn’t hear them. A soft gasp slipped through your lips as you realized exactly who it was.

“John!” You turned and slapped his upper arm, jaw dropped open as he laughed.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you, didn’t think they would still be outside.” John smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Well, consider me very surprised right now.” You shook your head and sped up your movements, wanting to greet them sooner.

John bit his tongue harshly, he knew better than to chastise you when you were excited to greet old friends, but god dammit he hated it when you didn’t listen to him. Their loud cheers echoed across the area as they both embraced you.

“It’s been so long! What are you even doing here?” You smiled over at Farah, eyes twinkling in the bright sun.

“We got a call from a certain captain asking us to come visit, and we couldn't say no.” Farah smiled over at John as he reached your side, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“Really?” You turned to look over at him, grateful and thankful he’d called in this favor for you.

“Of course. I know you've been feeling down lately, and I wanted to help you feel better.” John’s eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, gesturing towards the restaurant.

Alex held the door open for the three of you to head inside, waiting patiently as you made your way up the steps. John stood behind you, waiting to assist in case you needed him to at any moment. Once you were inside and seated everyone seemed to let out a soft sigh of relief. You’d known about Alex’s leg, it was one of the reasons you’d gotten so close over the last year, even if you hadn’t lost your actual leg, he understood your pain and struggle.

“You know? You and John actually kind of look alike.” You glanced between Alex and John, taking in their features.

Of course Alex was younger than your boyfriend but if the both of them shaved? They could definitely pass as brothers. Then again there were the two full sleeve tattoos that Alex had on his arms. Okay, okay, maybe the actual biggest difference was their accents, but your statement still stood.

“Darling, that’s the first thing you’re going to talk about?” John raised a brow and chuckled, turning to take a sip of his water.

“Yes! I’ve been cooped up in that damn office all week, I felt like I was going to go crazy.” You smiled and laid a hand on his knee.

The food was delicious, more along the line of appetizers and finger foods rather than a meal if you were honest. The conversation flowed so smoothly, not so much as an awkward silence as you all cracked jokes or told stories of everything that had been going on. You were so unaware of the world around you except for the four of you at the table you hadn’t noticed John slip out of his chair. Alex’s eyes widened as he caught on, jaw dropping open slightly. Your brow furrowed as you followed his line of sight, a loud and shocked gasp slipping through your lips.

“Darling, I know we’ve only been officially dating for just over a year, but I’ve known since the day we met that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’ve been through something that most people wouldn’t have been able to handle and you came out even stronger than before. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” John slipped open the small box, a gorgeous ring nestled inside the black velvet.

“Yes, a thousand times yes! I will absolutely marry you!” You wanted to throw yourself into his arms but thought better of it.

John smiled widely as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling your fingers to his lips to press a soft kiss to each one. The entire restaurant burst into applause, cheering loudly for you both. Alex and Farah snapped a few photos, the two of them smiling happily for you. While Alex had no clue at all that John was going to propose, Farah had helped him find the perfect ring. She may have stalked your social media, finding your pinterest to find what you loved most. John was shocked at how much effort and work she’d put in, but right now he was so grateful for it.

“I love you so much darling, more than you’ll ever know.” John pressed a soft kiss to your lips, keeping you close as you cried.

“I love you too.” You sniffled, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

John pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses all over your face. You laughed and pushed him away, albeit very weakly. It was a reminder that sometimes good things did happen in life. It was in that moment that you suddenly realized something, you would be announcing your engagement eventually to the entire crew. Which meant both Simon and Johnny would find out as well. 

Should you have talked to them about everything that had happened? Sure. Except you didn’t want to, you wanted to avoid talking with them at all costs. It was mainly because you were still dealing with the issue with this leg. Maybe you could smooth things over, but at the end of the day you weren’t entirely sure.

The rest of lunch was eventful, Farah and Alex sending you the photos and videos they’d been able to take during the proposal. You couldn’t stop staring at the ring, a bright smile on your face as you thought about what your future entailed. You weren’t going to rush into planning, you wanted everything to be as stress free as it could be. 

“Don’t be strangers! We’ll send the invite when we set a date.” You hugged Farah close, smiling as she squeezed your waist tighter.

“We’ll do our best to be there, if we can’t I expect to see all the lovely pictures.” Farah would make sure to be there for you and John, even if she had to drop everything last minute.

“Of course, if you can’t make it I’ll make sure John sends them to you right away.” You patted her arm gently, taking your cane as John stepped over to you.

Saying goodbye to friends you didn’t get to see much never got any easier, it was understandable of course but it never hurt any less. John would do whatever he could to make the rest of the day special for you, even if that meant going home and running a bath. On second thought, a bath might soothe your aching muscles so you could actually help with dinner.

“John, what do you-” You were cut off by the sound of a voice, rather two, calling your name.

As you turned to address whomever was calling you, your heart seemed to stop in your chest.

“Simon…”

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#captain john price #john price x y/n #john price x you #john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain johnathan price #tf141 #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #farah karim #alex keller #john price angst #john price fic

[theaviatorthatcouldnotfly]

e6 predictions (they get more unhinged the further you go)

lake scene is NOT the final scene or a breakup scene

the wilmon car scene is the last scene

elias song!!

wille won’t abdicate (just because you can’t abdicate before you’re even on the throne)

BUT he does tell his mother that he’s leaning towards not wanting to be king

felice and sara will start to be friends again (during the neon party?)

hillerska closes down

fredrika and stella are temporarily pissed at felice for the closure

wilmon will get a “let’s stay together, we love each other and we can try to make it work” endgame

saraugust won’t be endgame

we get to actually see one of august and wille’s mediation therapy sessions and what they talk about

vincent and august are on not-so-great terms at the end of the show

the first year’s letters to their future selves come back into play

as per usual ludvig does nothing significant or useful to help wille or the plot

wille looks into a mirror and gives himself a tiny smile

music room redemption scene

simon writes/sings a song for wille for his real birthday present

wille learns the truth about where his orange sweater really went

by some miracle there is enough time in the episode for simon to go see boris himself

someone actually remembers that rousseau exists (even better, we actually SEE rousseau)

someone accidentally starts a fire during the neon party

august and vincent try to throw punches at each other during the table scene

marcus shows up at graduation for whatever reason and malin kicks him out

simon jumps vincent while everyone else politely applauds

felice gets to yell at the headmistress for her casual microaggressions

linda delivers a bitch slap to august’s stepdad

someone says “i’m proud of you” to wille

#we’re going from least unhinged at the top to most unhinged at the bottom btw #yr s3 spoilers #yr s3 speculation #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #sara eriksson #felice ehrencrona #august horn #vincent young royals #nils young royals #kristina young royals #ludvig young royals #august horn of årnäs #august young royals #edvin ryding #omar rudberg #lisa ambjörn #avi rambles #young royals

[the-ace-with-spades]

This, I hope, will eventually be posted on ao3 as a proper fic – current draft title is exhumation — but just in case it will not, gonna post it here and let it stew

Canon Divergence AU with secret Identity and later identity reveal drama

(also this involves the backstory from the Ghost comic because I vaguely remember reading it when I was in high school…)

Soap and Ghost meet before they become Soap and Ghost. Johnny is 20, Ghost is 25, and they’re stationed around the same place but different squads — somewhere not far away from Manchester — and they don’t know they’re both from SAS. They meet when Tommy tries to be supportive of Simon’s newly announced queerness and takes him out to a gay bar on Canal Street. Tommy is the one to chat up Johnny (while Simon, obviously not a fan of crowds or loud places, hides away in the bathroom) with ‘see, my brother this and that’  and ‘if you give my brother a chance, he will this and that’. Believe it or not, once Simon strolls back in with all his social awkwardness, Johnny is actually charmed. Things roll around for a couple of months before they admit to each other they’re in the armed forces.

By the time they find out Simon is of higher rank, they’re already gone for each other. They decide to keep going anyway — it’s legal, as of 2001, and they’re not planning on getting a civil partnership for a while, anyway, so in the end, they keep going. Simon changes his next of kin on file to Johnny, they ‘share’ a flat off base, and Johnny’s met Simon’s mum and brother. He more or less knows the lore of the Riley family, mostly how much of a piece of shite his father was and Tommy’s recently fought addiction, and somehow, Simon feels alive for the first time in his life.

It’s all going so perfect, they’ve been together for almost two years, which isn’t long for most, but feels like forever when you’re in the military. Johnny gives him a ring, a sterling silver one with thistle ornaments and a small garnet centre stone. It’s not a proposal, they can’t get married legally, and they won’t have anything but Simon’s will binding them legally for as long as they’re both in the forces — Simon doesn’t know it, but there’s a matching simple band waiting to slide in with the ring he’s got on his tags, and one day, Johnny plans for him to have a full set.

Simon and his team get send out, Simon tells him it’s going to be a long one, somewhere in one of the Americas — Central or South, if he had to guess by all the self-learning Spanish books that cluttered Simon’s bedside table — and Johnny, well, he’s got a bad feeling but when does he not, with their jobs?

Simon’s team gets back, partially. There’s talk about betrayal from his captain, and he’s painfully absent, Simon’s friends look half-dead and act half-dead and no one is telling Johnny anything. He spends his afternoons with Simon’s mum, taking care of her as best as he can while Simon is gone, even though it was never the plan, and dodges Tommy’s aggressive questions, because he knows goddamn nothing.

Johnny doesn’t give up. He waits.

Simon is gone six months — MIA, officially, but KIA in the words of anyone from the brass — when he emerges back from South America, giving Johnny a new heart and a new life. He comes back different, but Johnny doesn’t care, it’s Simon, it’s still him, and maybe there’s something dead in his eyes, and maybe he spaces out more often than not, and maybe he feels cold in Johnny’s arms, and maybe he doesn’t sleep in the same bed, but it’s still Simon, he just needs to heal and figure out how to keep on living.

And Simon tries — he’s got episodes every day, than every other day, than every week, every other week. He goes to therapy, he spends his days cooking with his mum, spends his days cleaning the whole of their flat again and again, spends his days wandering around Manchester, buying Johnny’s favourite drinks, favourite books, favourite breakfast babs.

He tells Johnny bits and pieces, about what happened, enough that Johnny can put it together in a horrifying if blurred picture, and things start to improve, slowly.

He comes back to their bed. He wakes up before Johnny, makes him breakfast, kisses him on the forehead and struggles with the crosswords from the newspapers he picked on his morning run. He goes out with his former teammates, very short trips but trips nonetheless. He stops being afraid to be alone with his nephew, stops being afraid he'll hurt him. He never quite gets used to the scars, covering them more often than not, not wanting the looks.

Second week of December, ten months after he was brought back to the UK from North America, his psychiatrist signs him off for a phased return to duty. No deployments, only base and training site duties, regular sessions with both the psychiatrist and the psychology for the first four months.

Johnny hasn’t seen his family since before Simon gone MIA — finally feeling okay-ish, Simon tells him to go Scotland for Christmas. He’s got his mum, his brother, his sister-in-law and his nephew, and he’s, weirdly, feeling almost optimistic about life.

Obviously, he can’t be happy for long and shit hits the fan.

On Christmas Day, Johnny gets a call from Greater Manchster Police. He and his sister drive down the country and in the early morning of the Boxing Day, Johnny is showed the tags with the familiar silver ring on it, sooted at the edges and slightly misshapen, melted.

Fifteen minutes after he identifies Simon’s body, they tell him he killed his whole family, probably in a PTSD induced episode, then set their house on fire and killed himself right after, when the trauma-haze went down. They tell him he was lucky not to be there when it happened.

Johnny doesn’t believe it. Simon’s mind’s been bad, but it’d always turn on Simon, not on others, he had too much control to let any episode take him over so much. So he doesn’t care what the police or the public says — he arranges the funeral and Simon is buried with the rest of his family.

Meanwhile, Simon goes on a rampage in Mexico. He kills everyone and anyone he even suspects to be involved with Roba’s people. He leaves a trail of dead people behind him for weeks until finally, the US military catches up — General Shepherd catches up and identifies him. The British Army doesn't know what to do with him — officially, he's dead already, the General Register Office has already issued his death certificate to his NOK, the armed forces had condemned his family's tragedy. His existence is…inconvenient. He is suspected to be either compromised or too unstable to be of use to the Army, even if SAS sees how valuable someone who could single-handedly destroy a whole cartel family and fake his own death could be.

Enter John Price, who had met Simon during SAS selection and had a bit too soft of a heart. There's a mural agreement — Price will take personal responsibility to keep him on a leash, at least until he proves he is not a liability, and he will remain dead on paper but active in the Army. No one is to know he is alive — not even Johnny, or maybe especially Johnny, who will be the last person anyone will see as a revenge method. Simon Riley's name is redacted from all available documents.

And thus, Ghost, a nameless lieutenant and a walking cautionary tale, is born.

The only thing Ghost has not predicted is that eventually, almost six years after he put Simon into the grave, Johnny will join the 141.

And somehow, Ghost is just Johnny's type, again.

#yes this going to be a then/now pov mix #soap angst will be like 70% of it #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fic ideas #charlie writes #haven't slept yet so going now #goodbye be back in 2h #op

[fictionalslvr]

Part one. Part two.

SYNOPSIS: "Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. He can't understand why you're so kind to him, and thinks he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't have no one to celebrate Christmas.

PAIRING: Neighbor¡Simon x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.045k

WARNINGS: fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) ect.

NOTES: This is the last part of this mini serie, sobs sobs. I hope you guys enjoyed until now 🫶🩵 (for some reason my tumblr bugs and won't let me make some phrases bold, ignore that.)

And again, tell me if there's something wrong, english is not my first language.

PREVIOUS PART

❝How can you miss someone you've never met?❞

Simon is a stubborn man. He is used to believing that maintaining distance would keep people safe from him, and this is not very polite of him. Sometimes, he would even be rough without noticing, making someone he cares for upset. It could or not, be his choice to do so. He did this a lot to his team, thinking that this would keep them safe, away from him, like killing two birds with one stone., keeping his past hidden, and not losing anyone as well. It’s hard not to get attached to someone, he can’t really control that, and when he realizes, he’s suddenly more cold than before, afraid that he will lose everything once more. Only he would understand the pain he felt, the knot on his guts when he saw his family vanishing from his hands, everything he fought for in years, going away in a blink of an eye, he surely doesn’t want to feel those sensations again. Guilty, vulnerable and useless, he really felt like this back then, trying even to make some therapy wouldn’t help, he found it nonsense, would only make his anger issues harder. As for now, he’s not that melancholic about it, trying to live his life after years of that, it already happened, he can’t change this. Even killing the one who did this to his family wouldn’t be one hundred percent enough, but for a long while, kept his mind thinking that he did justice with his own hands, and this was good for a moment. When Simon left only for himself, Ghost appeared, embracing his old identity for a new living he would start. It was very spontaneous, he suddenly took charge of his life for his own good, and Simon let it be like a second identity. They’re actually the same, but he likes to think that Ghost is a better version of himself, that is stronger and braver. He took all his fears and used them as a strength, became a new one, that he would only let it slip alone or outside the job. For a moment, he thought he would lose himself that way, until he found a in between line of being Ghost and Simon, he would live happily on that tightrope, finding some balance on top of it, slipping his feet sometimes, but never falling completely.

He takes a lot of pain for himself, and crying is something he never thought of doing. He passed through a lot, a lot that took his ability to cry. He would feel his heart ache, his lips drying and his heartbeat increasing…for not even a single drop of tear left his eyes. It was like he had no emotions at all, but from inside, he was cracked up, like a porcelain vase being glued all together again and again, for years. Usually, when he’s sad, he would stare at the wall or the ceiling, forgetting everything around him to think too much, alone, for himself only. Or, he would just stare, blankly, not a single thought on his mind. That’s when he got the habit of smoking, feeling the smoke filling his lungs would keep him distracted from the bad feelings. When he takes shots of whiskey, he’s very bad, and needs something stronger to bury his soul. He’s actually afraid on the back of his mind, afraid that he would end up addicted, so he truly drinks only a few times, but making sure he would knock out and wake up regurgitating all the liquid, the emptiness on his stomach would start to ache, and the hangover was a reminder that he wouldn’t forget everything so easily.

If there's one thing he didn’t like were commemorative dates, especially Christmas. In those days, he would try his best to not leave his home, but either way, he couldn’t escape the families nearby, all laughing and enjoying moments together. Those damn nights, he would sit on his table, a glass of whiskey in hands, all alone, and looking at the windows gave him the sight of a big family, around the table celebrating the food or kids opening gifts. Once, he tried to close the windows, like a grumpy older man that doesn't like to see happy people. That didn’t help a single bit, living in an apartment complex and those thin walls…he could hear some chatter anyways. The problem was not them, nor was the date itself, it was him. He knows that this way, he would look like Grinch himself, hating Christmas. He doesn't truly hate, he just didn’t like how it reminded him of the past, how a great time turned to a tragedy in his life. And hearing the little kids opening the gifts would make his face melt in sorrow, he always had a soft spot for children, ever since he had a nephew, he stills remember how happy the kid was with his gift.

—"Uncle, you really gave me the scooter that I asked for?” — The little boy giggled. Excited for the unwrapped gift in his hands, Simon nodded with his head, in silence, but with a big grin on his face.

—”Now, now. What do we say to him?” — His lovely mother caressed his back, reminding him to be grateful for the gift.

—”Thanks uncle Simon! You’re the best!”

He never used it. Never had the time to play with his new gift. His voice is still so fresh in Simon's memories, that each time the Christmas is close, he can hear his voice in his mind. The little boy's eyes would sparkle up, the fireplace making everything nice and comfy. When he blinks his eyes, he can see where he is now, a cold place, all alone.

It’s been a long time, and he’s avoiding you. The head nods turned into his eyes turning away from yours, the soft chuckles once in a while turned into silence, and not even the hand wave would be present. Of course, you would keep your life, going to work, coming back, having the little cat nearby and her purrs calming you down, drinking coffee in the mornings and reminding of…him. Simon’s stubborn, you told him that being cold won’t make you leave, but he suddenly became more distant than before, and this was a pain you would have to carry. He’s not an easy person to deal with, that’s obvious, the closer you get, the more he pushes you away. That would cause you shame, shame for being ignored in the hallways, shame for being stupid for a friendship that never quite existed. At first, you thought it was your imagination, that he was only in a bad mood. But when you knock on his door and he doesn’t open, even if you heard his footsteps, then you’re sure he’s ignoring you. His mind is playing with his sanity, he can’t keep seeing you and not getting even more attached, so the only option he had was to ignore you, and pretend that they never met. Simon felt awful doing that, you were the only one with the courage to speak to him, and that’s how he returns the good act? He is always that ignorant.

As Christmas gets close, he wonders if your family is coming to your house, and this year, he would listen to you, giggling with your family on a full table, decorations all over the place, and the mix of red and green starts to bother him. When the day finally comes…silence at the apartment above, that’s weird, he surely saw the pictures you had with your family. The curiosity is eating him alive, trying the best to disguise it. It’s hard to see your excited figure wave at him, and ignores completely. On the night of Christmas Eve, he was walking on the hallways, making his way back to his home after a meeting for job, and luckily or not, he ends up on the same elevator as you, the tense atmosphere when his hand is in between the metal, almost losing it, he enters it quickly, now giving the chance to the heavy doors close. When Simon lays his back against the cold metal, he sees you, winter clothes and a scarf, it’s so cold that you’re nuzzling your nose to the fabric, in an attempt to warm you up. The silence is weird, you don’t even look at his face, and there’s nothing on your hands, making clear that you’re not putting decorations for today. Simon clears his throat, he wants you to talk to him, how ironic after all these weeks ignoring you. Weirdly putting his hands on his pockets.

—”So…no preparations for today?” — His cold voice suddenly rings your attention. You shake your head slightly and lift your chin to meet his eyes, his face, as you’re used to being hidden by that balaclava. It’s weird to see him starting a dialogue after all this time being ignored, you lift an eyebrow before answering.

—”Just me. As always.” — For the first time, your voice sounds painful. He wants to ask why, but doesn’t deserve an answer after being a jerk with you. —”M’sorry for…avoiding you.”

He just asked for an apology? Seems like he had a big time thinking after weeks alone, and the past caught him by the feet, dragging him to that pit of regret. Simon looks away, not wanting to see your eyes after doing something so weird like apologizing.

—”That’s okay.” — No more words were needed, his face turned to see yours, and when your lips curled up in a smile, his shoulders felt a lot more light. The metal door creaks open, interrupting Simon to say more with that loud rusty noise.

—”Do you…want a coffee?”

—”Of course.”

Being here is all he needed after this long and sufferable week. The cozy air in your home would bring him immeasurable peace.Simon watches as you take off the scarf around your neck and pulls a chair for him.

—”Feel comfortable.” — You mumbled with a soft grin. He sits there immediately, watching the surroundings of your home once more, like he’s remembering how it was the last time he was here. But nothing changed. No artificial trees or Christmas stocking, nor fairy lights. Not even a single detail about this special date.

—”You don’t celebrate?” — He asked weirdly, while your back was turned to him, taking the pot of coffee, as you turned your body to face him, a confused expression meet him.

—”What? Christmas?”

—”Yeah. Is it…religion?”

—”Oh no, i just don’t have anyone to celebrate with.” — Simon nods, not daring to ask a single question more.

You lift up the sleeve of your shirt, pouring the coffee in the cups, and he keeps an eye on you, finally noticing a big burn scar all over your arm. Behind that mask, his lips parted, surprised with something about you he never saw before. Someone happy as you, had lost your family too.

—”How did you…” — He points to the burn scar, not directly mentioning it. You chuckles softly at his description on that matter.

—”I survived an accident. Was just me and my sister.”

—”So why isn’t she here now?”

—”She lives in another state, can’t come to celebrate it.” — As the steam flows out of the cups, Simon gets himself in a chokehold. He sure doesn't have a lot of manners, but the way you treated an accident was way different from his. You sit on the chair beside him, putting the pout of coffee down on the table.

—”My condolences for your family.”

—”There’s no need for that, I'm sure they’re resting now. It’s been a long time since it happened.”

—”Can i…touch your scar?”

—”Sure.” — This new discovery took all of his attention, he didn’t care about the coffee anymore. You offer him your arm, lifting up the sleeve to your shoulders.

Simon was completely mesmerized by it, such a big scar that starts on your fingertips, to your shoulders. His thumb gently presses it, with such tenderness that you looked like it could break at any moment. Slowly, his thumb moves along your hand, traveling to your arm and feeling the texture of it, that gentle movement along your arm, feeling every fiber of you as a new thing. He never asked for this before, and having him so focused on you it’s great. His eyes follow his trails, going all the way to your shoulders and making you shiver gently. This scar, just as the many that he has, was an act of bravery of yours, a sign that you’re still here, in this mediocre world. He always looked at his scars with disgust, thought that would make him feel ugly, but seeing yours…he felt connected to you. He was understanding himself with your story, your life on the press of his thumbs.

—”They look painful.”

—”It was. Had a lot of trouble taking care of it alone.”

—”That’s…so admirable.” — You knew how lucky you were to be alive from that accident, the doctors told you that you managed to escape from the toxic smoke, being burned and are still alive. But you never thought that he would find something like this admirable.

—”You really think so?”

—”Yeah, I'm being honest, it’s pretty…” — His hands move along your arm one last time, before letting you go. Letting that sensation go away.

—”Well, thanks then.”

—”Just telling the truth. I have a lot of scars as well, I understand you.” — For the first time, he shares something about himself, without you asking for it. That lights up all your face as you pull your sleeve back down.

—”Really? How many?”

—”I don’t know…I never count them. Have you ever counted how many moles you have?”

—”Course not, it’s too many.”

—”That’s why I never count my scars.” — His words make your breath hitch for a moment, you sigh heavily before looking away. The coffee in the cups is starting to cool down.

—”Where are your scars?”

—”All over it, almost. Face, chest, abdomen…ribs.” — He takes his own moment on the last word, like it's something that really matters for him.

—”I can’t imagine what you passed through.”

—”Don’t even try, you won’t guess correctly.” — Simon exhales deeply, looking down to the now cold coffee. The silence creeps once more, and you just have to ask.

—”I’ve been wanting to ask…why have you ignored me all these weeks?”

—”I was scared.”

—”Scared?”

—”Yeah, I have fears as well.” — He shrugs and that makes you chuckle softly

—”I know this. I’m asking...fear of what?” — Simon stays silent for a while, reluctantly answering —”Fear that you came to stay.”

His words are confused, sometimes look like he’s talking to himself. That makes you tilt your head a little, looking at his almond shaped eyes running from yours.

—”I’m not used to people like you. That doesn’t run away from me, or leave at the first talk.”

—”Well…?”

—”I realized that I can't run away from you anymore.” — These words, is like he’s been feeling what you felt as well, since you first encountered him, the way that he had an amount of power over you, that made you become more and more curious about him. Seems like he is finally opening up about his feelings.

—”I want you to know…to know me properly.”

—”So…no more ignoring?”

—”No more ignoring. Just the real Simon.” — His eyes meet yours, and even behind the mask, you can sense a smile out of him, from the way his eyes squint. —”But promise me something.”

—”What is it?”

—”That you won’t leave me after knowing the truth.” — Your face brightens, and you nod with your head at him.

—”Okay, I promise you, Simon.”

—”Thank you, [name].” — With that, Simon hands wander over his mask, and he takes it off completely, giving you the vision of…his face.

He’s just as handsome as you thought. Bushy eyebrows now visible, his short blond hair a bit messy, that jawline making his face more than memorable. And besides all of that, scars. One big one at the side of his lips, another one on his eyes. He looks away like a flustered little child, scratching the back of his neck and your eyes almost close for smiling too much. You giggle softly with the sight, a giggle that tells him ‘is okay’, that makes him feel safe again to look you in the eyes. He becomes lost in that sight, your face melting with smiles, so happy to finally know him truly, that he’s finally opening up for you, that he smiles too, a soft little smile. Only he knows how much he wanted this, to be real with you, to show himself, and that you would continue to look at him with that grin on your face.

—”It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

The comfort of your voice is all he needed at this moment. The way your voice brings him peace. That ache of his heart finally leaving, knowing that he won’t lose you anytime soon. That you’re here, with him. Both heartbeats increase, silly smiles all over, maybe it’s the Christmas spirit making everything more cozy. Or maybe it’s because one needs another to understand…that not everything can be solved, but that things can stay in the past, not be forgotten.

—”Can we…spend this Christmas together?” — He knows that is safe, that he won’t lose you to those cruel people who killed his family. That for the first time, he can have a normal Christmas. You only nod your head gently, a brief answer that he needs.

To make everything more comfortable, your little cat appears, climbing Simon’s lap and staying there lazily.

—”Sorry for her…”

—”Oh hello little one, we meet again…” — Simon mumbles, looking down at the little feline, his hands caressing her fur gently. Even without the mask, she could recognize him. The view makes your heart flutter.

—”Again?” — You ask in between chuckles. It was indeed, adorable to see this.

—”I met her when you slept on the couch, she was all over me.”

—”She’s a clever little kitten.”

When you say that, a relieved exhale leaves your lips. From now on, you’ll be able to meet the real Simon, and the idea of having him close, it’s not a problem for you.

Tag list (hope i didn't forget anyone):

@linoskitten11

@pepsicolacoochie

@silas-222

@maeplayscello

@ysljoon

@fandomsinthegalaxies

@corvusmorte

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost #fluffy #angst #angst with a happy ending #light angst

[lunar-years]

There is literally no other way to interpret the side by side posters on Jamie's wall, the boy is bi! Roy and Keeley spend literally the whole episode thinking about Jamie, and then the end when they're all sat together? Oh my heart! Also I would love LOVE to know what Roy whispered to Jamie, but the proud looks from both Keeley and Roy at their boy during the match will sustain me for weeks

Like I'm not even kidding in the slightest when I tell you this episode was ot3 made canon for me. I don't even care what happens with the three of them in the finale, this was it. If the finale is bad for them I'm just going to forget it ever happened and pretend this was the final episode, I don't even care!!!

side-by-side posters?????? of ROY AND KEELEY?????? The reveal was glorious. I can't believe I didn't see it coming but when that door swung back, my jaw DROPPED.

Jamie getting injured on the pitch and then the drama of him getting back up and everyone thinking oh it's all right he's okay only for him to FALL AGAIN. And through all of that we got to watch the face journeys play out on both Keeley and Roy??? that was straight out of a million ot3 angst fanfics i was writhing internally

literally just, Roy and Keeley not actually getting back together (without him)...!!! dropping their hands as soon as he came in. Keeley's expression when Roy told her he didn't want to be friends. If you read my long ramble-y Roy/Keeley meta after last week's episode you'll know I've dreamed of times like these anon

something about Roy going to Keeley to ask her to fix Jamie only for her to be like "welp shit I ended up making him worse" was so glorious and funny and perfect even as it was heart-bending. I know we love to talk about Keeley's emotional intelligence compared to her boys, but at the end of the day they are truly 3 idiots 1 braincell. Keeley just gets to hold on to it the most. I love these dorks.

it was deeply vulnerable of jamie to bring Roy and Keeley with him to his house. like we're not talking about that enough, actually. It was clear he'd never brought Keeley there when they dated. Like, they didn't even know he had a Simon. And this was him completely letting them into his world in one swoop. Letting Simon give them a tour of the Jamie shrine unbothered while he cried to his mum. ???????? JAMIE

the final scene where they bring the champagne into the therapy room is everything to me absolutely everything it is the stuff of dreams and I can't believe we got an ot3 scene like that.

I think it's more fun that we don't know what Roy whispered because in our heads we now get to make it whatever we want. Like, okay, it was obviously, "we're fucking tonight," and WE all know that, but the general audience, who is largely blind, can still go on in their own little delusional bubble like "wow isn't it nice that Roy and Jamie are such good friends ! Surely Roy must've told Jamie good game :D" It was such a completely perfect way of doing it. Ted Lasso writers I never once doubted you (i lie)

there was sooooo much more I loved but yeah these are the talking points my current state of mind is oscillating between lol.

#royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #asks

[darklordofthesimp]

König and Sunny sparring together would probably be terrifying to watch

Honestly, no one wants to spar with Sunny other than Ghost.

They're fucking terrifying dude.

And when König finally recovers from he cracked egg incident; he wants to fucking smear Sunny on the floor like peanut butter on toast (affectionately of course. Like a big brother would)

König gets fuckin flashbacks to Birdy so he fucking haaaaaates sparring with Sunny at first. Eventually, Price kind of notices that he freaks the fuck out when training with others. So, as his own little version of therapy, Price sics Sunshine on him.

"C'mon Big Boy," Sunshine shoots him a feral grin. "I don't bite."

König's eyes are wide, his palms out in front of him. The sniper is circling him like a shark would circle its prey, herding him to where they want him.

"Are you sure?!" He's only half joking, the words tremoring as they're spoken.

"Well, I will if you want me to," Sunny winks.

Price rolls his eyes when Ghost shifts his position. "Easy, Simon."

"This is fuckin' stupid," the L.T. murmurs, glaring at the scene before him. He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Nah," Price smiles, "It'll be good for 'em both. Sunshine gets to let off some steam and he's..."

The Captain didn't continue, only offering a snort.

Ghost raised a brow from beneath the mask.

"I'm going to fucking eat you." Sunshine grins.

"You're gonna what?" König wheezed.

When the sniper leapt at him, every limb moving with precision and accuracy, Simon winced.

König never stood a damn chance.

#anything lore