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moondirti · 26 days

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pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

#why do i keep writing these while sleep deprived #i’ll edit tomorrow cba rn ngl #༄dee answers #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #x reader #x female reader #simon riley #John mactavish #ghost #soap #cod #call of duty

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angelofacidx · 4 months

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Pet

Dark Ghoap x Fem! Reader

CW: Kidnapping, drug mention, violence, death mention.

Johnny had an incredibly easy time keeping himself busy during retirement. There was always something to be done around the house, a new local sport team to join, or an outing he’d convince Simon to humor him on with a bat of his lashes. However, years of military service were not kind to his body. Cleaning the gutters would leave a strain in his shoulder. Bopping around at a shitty punk gig he’d dragged Simon to would wind his muscles tight for days. The nail in the coffin was at his last rugby game, an over compensated move completely throwing his back out.

That was enough for Simon, being the judge and the jury for Johnny’s sentence of doctor ordered bed rest. In the first days Johnny had still tried to keep up around the house, following Simon around and chittering on that he was fine before getting promptly carried back to bed like a sack of potatoes over broad shoulders. He’d fully given up after that point, his little spirit crushed as he laid in bed absently doom scrolling on his phone for hours. That was, before one of your videos came across his screen. Written in the stars by the algorithm.

The video was innocent enough, a ‘Get ready with me’ style set to some cute music which unknowingly doomed you. Thumbs flew across the screen as Johnny tapped on your profile, greedily drinking in your entire post history over the course of a couple hours. His favorites he’d bookmarked and watched over and over again, already memorizing whatever little song you’d picked to go over your video. His heart hammered in his chest and he swallowed a lump in his throat, hovering over the direct message option.

Hello :) Big fan! Do ye think ye could wear that black dress from 20/11 in yer next video? Loved it.

Johnny waits anxiously for your reply and decides to send another message apologizing for coming on strong, only to realize he’d been blocked by his newest little project. With a pout and a sigh he resigns himself to making another account, rinsing and repeating his actions of following you, going through your videos, and bookmarking his favorites. His head is too far in the clouds to even register that Simon had been standing over his shoulder for a minute, watching him.

“Whatcha got there, pup?” Simon’s voice sounds from above, causing Johnny to almost jump out of his skin.

“Jesus! Ye scared me,” Johnny said, placing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

When he saw that Simon was still awaiting an answer, he shook his head to rid the jitters.

“A real pretty lass. Somethin’ about her. She’d fit right in.” Johnny said with a dreamy sigh, looking to Simon and trying to gauge his reaction.

Simon’s hand is held out expectantly before Johnny places his phone in his calloused palm. His eyes fixate on the screen as he goes through the videos. He’s right, you’re pretty. His pup’s eyes look as if he’s a child pleading for a new toy at the store and he’s nothing if not a sucker for it. With a resigned sigh, Simon pockets the phone and ruffles Johnny’s hair.

“Bed time,” Simon says with a soft canter to his voice.

Johnny obliges, mumbling good nights and kisses before he’s out cold and Simon makes the trek downstairs to haul himself up on the couch, the room illuminated with Johnny’s phone screen.

You have piss poor internet safety. Simon gathers information quickly, half military training and half having brain cells to rub together. You make it too easy, like you are begging to be whisked away.

A video in your likes about being non contact with parents.

They wouldn’t ask where you were.

A ‘‘jokey” audio about your pet being your only friend

No one would come looking for you.

A video was taken in your work uniform with a name tag and a clock in the background during the shift.

Location and time you’d be on the premises.

Once he was satisfied with his findings Simon trudged back up the stairs, slotting in bed next to Johnny and lazily throwing an arm around him. His pup deserved a playmate while he was down for the count. Someone soft and docile like you to play with. Even if this was a big task, Simon would get what his precious boy wanted.

…

You’re a lot more bite than bark, and Simon had not been anticipating that. Muscling you into his truck and binding your limbs was easy even with the thrashing, but the deep bite mark blossoming purple and red hurt and he was not patient with disobedient mutts. Your screaming was silenced by a metal cage being strapped to the back of your head, the clasps tugging at your hair and a leather bit in the middle that made drool pool in your mouth and any noises come out hushed and gurgled.

“Really don’t wanna drug ya, love. The side effects are nasty and I’ve already got a pet on bed rest.” The masked man driving the car says, his voice deep and gravely like he’s smoked since he exited the womb.

You resign from fighting pretty early on, not missing the 9mm tucked into his waistband; a silent threat and promise. Instead, you focus on your surroundings out of the window which is mostly trees and fields as he drives out of the city limits and to, well, wherever he’s taking you. You catalog this information and commit it to memory and hold onto the delusion that when you escape you’ll be able to tell the police exactly where he took you and which way you went.

The road he’s driving on takes a sharp left and turns into more gravel and dirt than sleek tar pavement. Down the beaten path you pull up to a house, very unassuming and nice on the outside but you can only imagine the state of the inside. Every horror movie and true crime video you’ve ever seen plays in your mind. The filth, the squalor, chains and sex toys and rotting corpses in refrigerators.

The masked man gets out of the truck first, shutting the door with a surprising amount of care and then opening your side. He grabs the middle of the rope, where your hands are bound, and shuffles you out of the vehicle. When your feet meet the ground you’re tempted to run, but his gun remains front and center in your mind. Dumb idea. He crouches down on one knee then, like a parent getting on their child’s level to reason with them as he speaks to you; his grip still strong on the rope.

“Now, I need you to be good f’me and listen. If you make any fucking noise until I tell you to I’ll break your little jaw right off your pretty face and you’ll be eatin’ baby food the rest of your life. Got it?” He says in a soft tone but with no room for thinking he’s joking.

You nod your hand in understanding, too high on adrenaline and fear to cry even though your throat feels closed off and your eyes and nose sting with that familiarity. He rises to his feet then, unlocking you through the door and pulling you through the threshold. You prepare yourself for the worst but you’re met with the most mundane setting you could imagine. The walls are beige and gray, an accent wall in dark blue. A nice leather sectional couch, flat screen TV a few feet away from it. The place looks…underwhelming.

“M’ home. Just puttin’ the shopping away, hold tight up there in bed.” The man calls up the stairs to god knows who before turning his attention back to you.

He leads you by the wrists into a spare room right off of the living room which at first glance looks just as underwhelming as the rest of the house. A desk with a large dog bed under it, a few paintings on the wall, a book shelf, and a board for darts. When you’re being drug further into the room though, you notice it; a sturdy chain mounted to the wall and attached to a collar with a thick padlock. The leather is engraved with a name: Johnny.

The collar is placed around your neck and locked, gapping awkwardly in the back and ill fitting. The man tries to tug it over your head a few times but is satisfied when it won’t go past your jaw. The numb tingling in your hands draws your attention down to them as you try to wiggle your fingers and get some blood flow back. Survival is not guaranteed but you’re relieved that you’re not on the set of Texas Chainsaw Massacre at least.

You’re guided slowly onto your knees with two strong hands onto your shoulders, until you meet the plush carpet. You look up at him finally, a proper look. His eyes are dark and devoid of emotion, like some sort of a living breathing shell. He’s tall and filled out everywhere, even without the gun you now believe his promise of breaking your jaw more. You’ll have to use wit and gain trust to get out of here; you’ll have to fawn.

“M’ gonna go get my boy and you’re gonna act like you’re over the moon to be here.” He says, taking a step back from where you’re kneeling.

“I don’t like to take in strays and I sure as fuck don’t put up with rowdy mutts. Give me a reason to show you, and you’ll learn real quick darling.” He says, before opening the door and shutting it behind him.

You’re left to your own devices then, chest heaving and eyes darting around the room. With him gone you can finally let your defenses down a little so the tears start to cascade down your cheeks silently. The gag, well, muzzle makes it hard for you to catch your breath as you heave and sputter as quietly as you can. You wonder who Johnny is, the poor soul before you in this position. By the way the collar fit, were much larger than you and still fell at the hands of this man. The thought made bile rise to your throat.

Far away voices and footsteps get closer and closer to the door then as you’re frozen in place kneeling. Your chest rises and falls quickly with each breath before it hitches all together as the doorknob is turned. The door opens, and another man has joined your captor. He’s smaller, a dark mohawk and striking blue eyes. He is absolutely elated to see you, apparently. He’s a blur of moment, on his knees by you in a blink and gathering your tired body into a spine crushing hug.

He turns his head behind him to the mask man with an ear to ear grin, beaming and nauseatingly giggling to himself.

“You didn’t!” He says excitedly, like someone reviving a way too expensive present in a secret Santa exchange.

“Just for you puppy. You’ve been down since your injury an’ I figured I could get you a playmate.” The man says, a hint of a smile in his voice.

He seems to care a great deal about this man with a death grip on you, happy just to see him happy.

The man affectionately referred to as “puppy” buries his nose in your hair, sniffing deeply and letting out a deep shuddering breath. You feel his cock twitch against the outside of your thigh where he’s got himself pressed against you. You’re beginning to think this was the Johnny you were feeling sorry for a second ago.

His hands move up towards your muzzle to undo it but the other man stops him, warning that you’re not properly trained yet and might bite. He whines, but gives a nod in understanding, giving you another rib bruising squeeze.

“Don’t worry lass. We’ll take care of ya’.” Johnny says, planting a kiss on top of your head.

The larger man steps out of the room then, shutting it behind him and leaving you to get accompanied with your new playmate and acclimated to your new home. Hope slowly starts to leave as Johnny whispers promises of giving you pups and never letting you out of his sight.

#cod x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #cod #cod mw2 #soapghost #ghoap #ghoap x reader #this is a rough sleep deprived drabble

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furiosophie · 10 months

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#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish #just a little train doodle #i just realized i prob drew every ship i ever shipped being sleepy together #and wrote the literal sleeping together trope into every fic as well #hmmmmmmmmmmmm #anyway #soph arts #id in alt text

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ave661 · 9 months

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#it was supposed to be just one random ghost render with holo bc i was listening to sleep token and a whole series came out asjksjkajk #soap #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #mw2 #mw2022 #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #661ave

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wispscribbles · 6 months

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Unmasked & unguarded

#ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #my art #cod fanart #more painterly than my usual stuff #wanted to try something new #this type of rendering is not for me I think #took so so long #love the idea of the total trust Ghost has in Soap that he will sleep completely bared to him #in a way he’s never been with anyone else #and soap just staring at him in awe that he gets to see this side of Simon #they make me ill #the colours got a bit muddy but I’ve fiddled with this for ages and I give up 🥲

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ghcstao3 · 2 months

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urban fantasy where witch soap runs an apothecary with his familiar ghost—or, who everybody thinks is soap’s familiar, when in reality ghost is just a black cat shifter who likes to freeload (and help with the potions and balms and whatnot, sure—but mostly he likes to nap in the front window because it gets the most sunlight)

(soap can’t even complain because somehow it gets him more customers)

(something about his “familiar” being cute, and, well. he can’t argue against that)

#might write more later i just. need sleep first #i have an idea for their first meeting hehe #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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spiltspit · 4 months

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trying some things out

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #mw2 #simon riley #mw3 #ghost call of duty #my art #modern warfare 2 #sleep deprived ghost ✅#dont worry soap cuddled hjm after 😔

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saragapen · 1 year

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Scorpions from the past

#the Scorpions are a reference to his comics and past trauma #i definitely think that ghost would have triggers or moments where he beeaks down and some of them are during really bad moments #also i post more soapghost on twitter #It's 7am and I have yet to sleep but my mind is only thinking about the next part of the comic #simon would most likely disassociate and ghost would take over #soap would blame himself because he couldn't calm him down in time to not let ghost come out #If he hadn't pressed his mouth closed so hard or bs able to properly calm down #that he wouldn't have to build this wall up again.#i also think ghost would come out especially when he realizes that Simon's directly putting not only soap but himself in harm's way #But the comfort bits where soap slowly softens ghost back up by just spending time near him #telling jokes and getting simon to realise he's safe again so he doesn't need to put up the walls #but soaps inability to help was the final straw that let ghost out so it'll be really rough to loosen his walls again #simon riley #ghostsoap #john mactavish #soapghost #fanart #mw2 fanart

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temeyes · 1 month

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WAH- //jumps off to oblivion [text ver on twt hehe]

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auspicioustidings · 5 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would.

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office.

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed.

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you.

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing.

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough.

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby.

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping.

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid.

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby.

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back.

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you?

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?”

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing.

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #well at least the implication is a slow burn in which they do fall in love #they just do it all very out of order #baby > marriage > moving in > sleeping together > dating #Soap is gonna be pissed

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