shroompette

[shroompette]

Taken from that one Reddit post but. Simon with a deaf!reader. He’s had his nose broken so many times, his nasal passageways are like a labyrinth. Of course he snores like an absolute chainsaw. And when the 141 is staying in a safe house together Soap thinks it’s a bit hilarious.

“Dinnae ken how ye sleep through the night without yer wife smotherin’ ye with a pillow after the first 10 minutes.”

“The missus says she happens to like my purring, thank you very much.”

And it’s true. You cuddle him and lay your head on his chest so you can feel all of the vibrations.

[shroompette]

selkie studies for a warmdown

[shroompette]

[shroompette]

Anyway, hello everyone! This is my first time on Tumblr 👉🏼👈🏼 I'd be glad if someone appreciates my work. By the way, you can see my art on Twitter. There are a lot of them there 🐸✨

[shroompette]

Mumma Bear

Pairing: König x Injured!Reader

Themes/Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of violence and torture, soft angst, caring König, protective reader, some fluff- might continue with a proper soft caring König

Notes: the COD boys have my absolute heart atm. It all stems from fanfiction and tumblr writing, I'm sorry, I haven't played the games. Feedback and critism are welcome!

I really hate how Tumblr formats my writing!! Sorry for the massive gaps, I wrote this in Ellipus and copied-pasted it from there. I'm too lazy to go through and edit the spacing ❤️

You could hear them just outside your cell door. Fists meeting faces. Bones being broken. Stifled cries that caused a fresh torrent of anger to burn through your bruised and broken body.

Your boys…your men…your team…barely out of the training field…with barely enough experience for the field…caught up in a mess meant to break you.

And they were holding strong. You knew they were. Because you'd be dead if they told these people who you were.

That's at least what you suspected. Because why else would they be asking for your name over and over again?

Your cell was a metal storage unit. One of those long containers ferried on ships with added chains to keep you securely in place. Arms over your head, your fists cuffed at odd angles and your feet barely touching the cold ground- you swung lazily back in forth. Twitching whenever you heard one of your boys cry out…

Hold on… You wanted to tell them. Hold on just a little longer and I'll get you all out of here.

But you never had a chance to promise them this. Your captors tortured them outside your container but never dragged their unconscious bodies in for you to see. They only gloated about it.

Waving their busted knuckles in your face, forcing you to look at the blood that caked their fists. Spitting insults and smirking about how the youngest recruit couldn't see the punches coming because his eyes were swollen shut.

They must like how you looked dangling, helpless, but so full of rage your eyes promised silent vengence.

You couldn't do anything to help them…your team…your boys…they were just out of reach…

Rain fell heavily beyond the metal cell. So thunderous were these fat drops that you could barely hear your own thoughts. A chill began to creep into your skin, giving you some respite against the ache that burned through your limbs.

Hours would pass like this. Days, even. You weren't sure how long you've been hanging in this dark prison.

Between being unconscious, hunger and the pain; your reality was beginning to warp together into blurred images of fractured faces.

The door to your cell opened. Spilling bright white light into the dark container from a man's torch strapped to his head. He blinded you, making you wince, as he said something- but you couldn't hear him over the storm.

Water pooled in behind him as the wind howled outside. It was freezing! You almost growled at the man to shut the damn door.

"Hungry, bitch?" The man's voice was barely audible over the rain now he was closer. He placed something at your feet.. a plate of porridge..still steaming with heat straight out of the pot. "Tell me your name and I'll let you eat."

It was the same tactic everytime. They would offer you something- food, clothes, a break from the pain but would ask for your name in return.

And everytime you said nothing.

You were pretty sure you haven't said a word since you were captured. Other than one order to your team as you were dragged to the ground- "Don't tell them anything!"

And even here, even when your stomach clenched painfully and your mouth tried to salivate with the smell of sweet porridge, your lips stayed sealed.

The torch jolstled as the man laughed. "Suit yourself. But I ain't feeding ya. Maybe a few minutes of-"

There was a crack of bone and the blinding light snapped to the left. The man crumbled to the ground with a heavy thud, spilling the bowl's contents over your feet, and in his place was Levi. One of your boys.

He nearly tripped over the body. Gasping and cursing as he stumbled, holding his side.

"Hang on, Captain. Have to find the damn keys." Levi's voice sounded rough and he moved with a limp, bending over with a soft grunt as he patted down the dead man's sides.

You could have fainted with relief if the situation wasn't so dire. "The others?" Your own voice sounded foriegn to your ears. As rough as sandpaper.

"Andy and Riley are outside." Levi explained, finding the keys he shuffled over to your hanging form and reached up to uncuff your bleeding wrists. He winced as he stretched. And this close, you could smell the blood, bile and piss on him.

His entire face was swollen and bruised. You spotted missing teeth when he continued talking. "Sammy is trying to find a radio and Tye…he can't see…"

"Where is he?" You asked, grunting as your arms fell to your sides. Your knees buckled and you fell to the floor with a crash of leadened limbs and bloodied skin.

"He told us to leave him-"

"Where. Is. He?" You spat through your teeth, clenching against the pain as you forced your legs to carry you. Snatching up the dead man's weapon as you practically crawled over him.

Levi aided where he could. But he wasn't in any state to help you. His own wounds were blatant in the way he walked, barely able to hold himself upright- there was no chance he could carry your wieght as well.

"Across camp, to the south by the barracks." Levi told you. Pointing towards a series of buildings that was lit up by the lights circling the camp. The rain made everything sparkle but foggy, as if you were looking through a misted window towards a city. "They tied us up against the fence. Riley got loose. Came looking for you before bouncing."

You ducked behind a vehicle parked just outside your container. You spotted Andy across the way, hidden amongst the shadows of a large canvas tent. Only visible to you when he shifted to catch your attention. You nodded towards him. Then turned to Levi, twitching when Riley materilized out of the rain. Sliding underneath Levi's arm to support him.

"Do you have a rendevous point with Sam?" You asked and Riley nodded.

"West side of the camp. Once he's found a radio or called for aid, he'll meet us there."

"Get yourselves over here and if you have an opening to go, take it." You said and handed Riley the gun. He looked confused and you saw the arguement in his eyes. "You're my responsibility. Including Tye. You focus on getting everyone out. I'll make sure Tye meets up with you."

Out of your boys, Riley had stepped up more than once to take control of a situation. He was smart; probably too smart for his own good, but he was always the first to take on the role others shied away from.

He stepped up. Just as you knew he would in this moment.

Riley looked at the gun, to you and then to Levi and nodded. "See you soon, Captain." Was his farewell before hauling Levi out of cover. Andy followed suit. Passing close enough to touch your shoulder before hurrying after Riley.

The three of them disappeared into the rain and you forced your body to move. The camp was empty. The residents were hiding inside out of the rain. Leaving the muddy grounds open for you to trek across camp entirely unseen.

There were no watch-towers. No guards patrolling. A big mistake on these fuckers part. But quite fortunate for you.

Because you managed to find the posts your boys were tied up to quickly. Water mixed with blood in shallow puddles and the cut ropes from your teams capture were left laying in the rain.

Tye, however, was nowhere to be seen.

You used the ground to track him. Amongst the mess of boot-prints and deep tracks from cars, you found a fresh trail of deep grooves in the wet dirt.

Someone being dragged, kicking and flailing, by three people.

You followed it into a small shed just a small ways from where your boys had been tied up.

And you heard the commotion before you even opened the door. Even with the rain and distant thunder; the sound of fists striking flesh, threats and demands made on laughing voices; told you exactly what was happening before you even opened the door.

Three men had Tye in a chair. Unbound but his arms grappled behind his back by the third man. The other two were taking turns punching Tye's stomach. Forcing his head back so they could strike him across the face with their knuckles.

The poor kid's face was swollen to the point of bursting. His eyes were closed, bloodied and dappled with color. His clothes were torn and you spotted angry red welts across his exposed chest… the rage from before burned through you and the man holding back Tye's arms, looked up to see a blur of fury charging into his comrade.

The first man you tackled died with his own knife buried into his throat. The second lunged for a weapon but you kicked his legs out from under him, your boot then coming down on the back of his head- knockng him out cold.

The third tried using Tye as a shield, but when your boy sensed the oppotunity, he threw back his head and cracked his scalp against his captor's nose. It gave him enough leverage to tear away from the man and allow you to throw the fucker against a wall.

You slammed his head three times against the bricks and he crumbled like a sack of potatoes.

"C-Captain?" It broke your heart to hear such a happy kid sound so scared. He could barely stand.

"Let's get you out of here." You replied in a soft tone, letting his hands find yours as he reached out for you. Blind to the room, you threw his arm over your shoulders and guided him out of the building.

"The others-"

"They're on their way out. Surely, you didn't think I was going to leave you behind." You assured him, pulling his wieght onto you, despite your own body wanting to fall face first into the cool mud. "I got you."

Your words seemed to break the last of his resolve. He all but collasped against you, mumbling incoherent words until you hushed him. The two of you stumbled through the rain, keeping to the shadows as much as you could. The storm was getting worse.

The wind howled like a beast. Clawing at the pair of you with enough force to almost topple you both over.

Almost there… You told yourself. The west side fence had a hole in it. Cut recently, you imagined, by your boys and their rush for freedom. You didn't spy anyone waiting around…until Riley stepped out of the shadows like the damn wraith he was, and took Tye from you.

"Sammy phoned home." Riley hurried said, easing Tye through the fence first. "But we need to leave. He had to shoot a few to get back to us. It won't be long until they're found."

You nodded, letting your boys crawl to freedom first before following. You took Tye's other side and together with Riley, dragged him out of the mud and into the forest beyond the camp.

You got maybe a few feet into the trees before a sirens split the night open and suddenly the camp behind you flared to life.

A glance over your shoulder allowed you a glimpse of many bodies rushing for vehicles, sprinting through the camp until someone spotted the fence and began following.

You took the weapon from Riley and shoved your boys up a slope. "Go! Keep running and do not look back!"

"Captain!" Your boys shouted after you. But you were already running, sprinting until you found the first man that wasn't your team and fired. The body fell with a hole through his skull and the shot boomed through the storm. Your pursurers dove to the ground, shouts of warning filled the forest before returning fire forced you to duck behind cover.

Using the thick trunks to shield you from a hail of bullets, you ran into the storm and away from your boys.

You didn't stop until you ran out of bullets. A trail of corpses followed you until you no longer heard the enemy shouts.

You weren't even sure how long you've been running. Your legs ached and your lungs never had enough air. It was a miracle you haven't been caught already.

The first rays of sunlight trickled through the clouds. When did it stop raining? You don't remember the dark storm dispersing.

At least they're not shooting at me anymore.

You stumbled to a stop. Tripping over a tree root, you collasped against a sturdy trunk and leaned against it. Your breathes came out in heavy wheezes. Your sight faded in and out of focus.

"Don't you dare faint." You growled at yourself. "You cannot run all this way just to faint right now."

Your little pep-talk was interrupted by voices echoing through the fog. They sounded distant but with each whispered word, you made out they were closing in.

Pushing off your tree, you kept running. More or less, moving as quickly as your body allowed through an endless sea of grey cloud and dark trees. Until you stumbled onto the porch of a house. Long since abandoned by its owners, with decaying wooden walls and broken glass windows; but it would do.

You climbed the stairs to the second floor and closed the door to a room that would have once been the master bedroom.

The furniture was gone. The harsh smell of mold and mildew hung in the air as you eased your numb body into a sitting position against the wall. Facing the door.

You would at least meet them face first if your pursuors stumbled over this place like you did. You didn't have a weapon…and you barely had the strength to keep your eyes open… yeah… whoever came through that door would have the easiest kill of their life for sure…

You didn't dare let your eyes close. But listened for the approaching footsteps. Even with the wind and soft patter of rain on the ruined roof, you heard them approaching.

You picked up on five distinct voices. Chattering to someone on a radio.

"Found a building…they might have taken shelter…"

"Remember, this fucker is dangerous. Don't let them get close. We don't know if they're armed."

You at least had that in your favor.

The creaking wood of the front porch announced their arrival. Their entry was silent. You dragged yourself to your feet, wincing when the floor groaned underneath you…fuck…

That was it.

The soft press of boots approached your door. The aduible click of a gun being cocked had your heart racing. You raised your hands and inched closer to the door. If you could just grab one of them…. Maybe you had a chance...

Something bounced on the floor-boards. Rolling towards your door.

"Grenade!" A soldier screamed and suddenly the hallway beyond your sanctuary exploded. You jumped away from the wall as cracks formed through the plaster and pieces of metal splintered through the wood.

Gunfire rattled the house. Bodies hit the ground and within seconds of chaos erupting, it ended. Silence, swallowed by light pattering of rain, followed.

Three heart-beats later, a quiet, near inaudble voice called your name and you nearly sank back to the ground again.

"Konig, I'm alive."

The door swung open immedately and a titan of a man rushed into the room. He was drenched in water. His cowl clung to his face like a second skin, framing a gaze that was so full of rage you bristled beneath it's heat.

You swayed, the last of your energy slipped through your grasp as you forced your cracked lips to smile. "Now how did you get from-"

"You've been gone for a week." Was his response, crossing the room in two long strides to steady you. The fire in his eyes sputtered out when you grunted at his touch. His fingers, as gentle as a man his size could, could not land without touching some bruised part of you.

His breathing quickened, this close you could hear his teeth grinding together. "How bad?"

It was somewhat charming to hear his usually calm demeanor sharpen at the edges. The way his eyes bounced between injury to blood stain to bruise, you could tell the state of you was adding fuel to an already mountainous pyre.

"I think I'm about to pass out." You admitted. Knowing better than to lie to him. Somehow, he just knew when you were trying to hide something. "The boys-"

"Already evac'ed out." Konig grunted and you allowed him to move up beside you. "They had to be wrestled onto the heli. Wanted to join the search to look for you."

Stooping down, Konig uttered a soft apology before sweeping your legs out from under you. You barely had time to resist! The sudden dip and lift had your ribs grinding together and you slammed your lips closed to stop yourself from screaming.

Gritting your teeth, you gave into the mortifying situation. "If you utter a single syllable about this to anyone…"

There was no chuckle or twinkling reply in his eyes. His hands held you as if you were made of glass; his fingers splayed carefully across your sides and taking each step as if you'd shatter from the tiniest jostle.

You concentrated on staying awake. Breathing in as much as your ribs would allow to keep your sight from dipping into darkness.

"Last I heard..you were..across the ocean.." Each word hurt, making you gasp as Konig carried you down the stairs and into the room that could have been the lounge-room once.

Using the tip of his boot, he dragged a wooden box away from the wall and placed you down ontop of it.

"A little bird told me you went MIA during a field test with your new team." Konig explained. He knelt down beside you, resting one knee on the ground to balance himself as he ruffled through his many pockets.

The vest had numerous knives and ammuntions. His belt held a few holsters but he clicked open a small pouch by his hip, producing a roll of clean bandages.

You would never admit it, but the way Konig seemed to freeze as he checked each injury, his gloved fingers ghosting over welts and open cuts; it was endearing…in a morbid sort of way.

"They wanted me alive." You explained, lifting the left side of you ruined shirt to display a slash that was swollen and angry. "Wanted my name for some reason. That's all they kept asking."

Konig was no medic but at least his touch was gentle. He moved slowly, letting you lean against his broad shoulder as he wrapped what he could.

You had to keep talking or unconsciousness was going to take you. "How'd you find me?"

"Followed the bodies." He replied. His voice felt like thunder through your skin. "Then when they ran out, I made my own path. Those upstairs were the last ones."

"How badly hurt were the boys?" You asked.

"Don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to ask." He admitted. You rested your cheek against his shirt. He smelled like rain and old clothes. "They said you ran east. So I went east."

His fingers brushed against your side and you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut against the flash of white hot pain.

Konig's apology whispered through his cowl.

When he was done, you tried to move away to let him stand but Konig settled an arm around your shoulders. Tenderly forcing you to rest against him.

"Don't need you falling to the floor." He said. But there was no humor behind his tone, just ice.

You mumbled something, but even to you it was incoherent. Licking your lips, you forced your next words to be heard.

"Wake me if there's trouble."

The massive form of muscle shifted beneath you as your eyes finally closed. And you felt his cowl brush against the side of your head as he sighed against your shoulder.

Whatever he said next was lost to the fog of sleep.

[shroompette]

Simon Riley who needs you to be louder during sex.

You'd been together seven years when the accident happened, married for three.

You had rushed to the hospital when Price had called. And you sobbed into his chest out of pure relief when Simon had made it through surgery.

The issue? He'd lost a fair amount of hearing from the IED blast.

Simon did eventually get used to it, but he never quite got used to hearing aids. Preferring to rely on lip reading when someone was talking too quietly.

There was also the sex problem. Not that you two had bad sex. Hell, it was the best for the both of you, going at it multiple rounds at times.

No, it was the fact that while Simon loves how shy you can be, it makes it difficult for him to hear you during sex. The little whimpers and whines you would make, now silent movements of your mouth. It pissed him off to no end.

Simon then began to experiment. Would it be easier to just wear his hearing aids during sex? Of course not. The damn things were so uncomfortable, but making you come? As easy as breathing.

He would start with teasing you throughout the day. Until you were practically dry humping him on the couch. Then he'd edge you until your whines were just loud enough for him to hear; though it sounded as though you were underwater.

Finally, what made your resolve crumble in Simons hands, was when he practically folded you in half. Holding a vibrator he'd spat on to your clit. Overstimulating you until you'd finished on his cock six times.

And Simon loved it. God you were so loud and pretty for him, he could finally hear you perfectly, your screams of pleasure filling his mind like a hazed fog pillowing over mountains early in the morning. Your hips writhing desperately; in an attempt to escape the pleasure or move towards it, he didn't know. He didn't care.

He could finally hear his pretty little bird sing as he filled her to the brim.

Ko-Fi ! Anything is insanely appreciated!

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[shroompette]

🌟patreon | commission us🌟🌟

The dance, the revolution, the blown up Parliament. You know what day it is 🌹🎇🌹

[shroompette]

saw this tiktok and thought of ghost... hnngg mechanic!simon who fixes ur car AND ur life after a quickie<3

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6Mfdt4Q/

OH GOD YES (did I just write this instead of sleeping? yes. do I regret it? no.) link

Bent over the hood of your own car, feeling it purr — as opposed to the horrible clanking and groaning sounds it made before — was not how you thought this would go.

When you dropped the car off a week ago, you had little to no hopes for your well-loved vehicle. You completely forgot about it, though, the second you saw the mechanic. Tall and broad, the muscles of his biceps bulging through the sleeves of his shirt. Piercing eyes had appraised you, his expression hidden by the skull balaclava on him.

You'd shivered under his gaze, goosebumps rising over your skin, nipples hardening as heat filled your veins.

You might've imagined those eyes while touching yourself once or twice during the week...

You came in today, not really giving a fuck about the car, only wanting to see him. You'd almost melted at the sight of him, sweaty, those eyes of his looking at you like he was seeing you naked.

“She's all fixed,” he'd told you, turning the key in the ignition and showing you the now-smooth run of the engine. “Good as new.”

“Geez,” you'd said, surprised. The old hunk of metal had seemed a lost cause, and this man had revived it. Probably some sort of magic in those huge hands of his... “Maybe you should get under my hood, see if you can fix me.”

You'd meant it as a joke. He didn't laugh, and you'd stuttered to apologize.

He shushed you with a rough chuckle as he hooked a finger on the loop of your jeans and pulled you closer. “I'll give it my best.”

He's definitely giving it his best as he pounds into you. His cock is long and thick, veiny, and you can feel every ridge on him each time he thrusts in.

“Fuck, you're so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, his body leaning down over yours, his chest pressing against your back. “You're takin’ it so well.”

You whine in response, eyes shut. Well? You're taking it well? You feel like he's up in your stomach from how deep he's fucking you. ‘Well’ isn't the word; you feel like you're barely able to fit him, let alone well.

God, he's huge. Everything about him is just so big.

He pulls back a little, leaving your back to miss the heat and weight of him. You don't get a chance to wallow in the loss as one of his enormous hands wraps itself around your neck and squeezes softly, making your mind go blank.

“Oh, my God!” you squeal, gasping, breathing coming a little harder.

He chuckles lowly. “You callin’ me a god, girl? I know I fuck good, but that's a little much, hm?” He leans closer, his mouth by your ear. “You should be embarrassed about how easy you are. Dirty thing, spreading your legs jus’ like that. Just ‘cause I talked pretty to ya.”

You whimper, pussy tightening around him, legs starting to shake. He's so big, he's so rough, he's so mean. God, he's so, so mean. And it's making you wetter.

He can feel it too. “Oh, it's like that, is it? You like bein’ a slut? Like getting used? Shoulda told me the first time you came here; would've saved me the trouble of havin’ to jerk off all week while thinkin’ ‘f you. Could've just been fuckin’ this pretty cunt instead.”

You can't think. You're mewling, pushing your ass back against his hips, trying to match his rhythm. He squeezes your neck tighter and you almost sob with ecstasy. Your nails scratch against the hood of the car, leaving little lines on the paint. You don't even notice.

“Don't do that,” he snaps, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. “I'm gonna have to fix that now.” He lets go of your throat, his hand moving instead to spank your ass hard.

You squeak, squirming, a tight knot of sharp pleasure coiling in your womb.

He spanks you again, harder. “Hurts?” he asks when you whimper.

“Yeah,” you gasp, nodding weakly. It's a sharp pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure, and it's pushing you to a much-needed orgasm.

He spanks you once more. “Then don't gimme more work to do, girl. I need to have free time if I'm gonna imagine all the ways I could fuck you, hm?”

You gasp, shaking, tears of pleasure filling your eyes and then falling down your face, right onto the hood of your car.

Simon hears you sobbing and hiccuping, and he chuckles. “You need to come already?”

“Please,” you whine, body writhing. You can feel your orgasm is close, but it's just out of reach. “Please.”

“You beg so pretty. Lucky I'm in a good mood, or I'd have you beg me for hours,” he says, slipping a hand under you. His thick, rough fingers find your clit and rub it in quick circles to match his thrusts.

And that's it. That's all you need.

The knot grows tighter and tighter until it snaps, sending pleasure ricocheting through your body, making you almost scream as you come.

“Aw, fuck,” Simon grunts, grabbing onto your hips and slamming into you a couple more times, too hard and too fast and too deep, before he pulls out and spills ropes of warm, sticky cum onto your lower back.

You're shivering, breathing heavily as you slowly recover from the intense orgasm.

“I don't think it worked,” he says quietly, breathlessly, as he drags his teeth over your shoulder.

“What?” you ask, voice raw from all the screaming and crying.

“I don't think I fixed ya. You're just so fuckin’ dirty,” he teases, and you laugh, a little embarrassed.

“I'm...Well. You did your best,” you counter, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Tell you what, girl,” he says, voice low, eyes wild. “I'm gonna fix up the paint you just scratched off the hood, and when you come pick the car up, I'll try and fix you again.”

“You think it'll work then?” you ask, body growing warm with desire once more.

“I reckon the more we try, the more luck we'll have.”

♡ please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing

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Simon Riley masterlist

[shroompette]

Waking up in Vegas

Synopsis: You and the 141 decide to spend a night in Vegas to celebrate completing a mandatory training week in the heart of Nevada’s desert. It was simple in theory — a few drinks, see the city, browse the casino floors, and you’d be on a flight home the next day. But when you wake up in the morning with one more ring on your finger than memories to accompany your newfound marriage, things begin to spiral.

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader cw: misuse? of alcohol, suggestive content, smoking, hangover, incredibly bad memory loss (for the plot ofc), drunken antics (classic soap amirite), fluff, simon is JEALOUS, forced proximity?, enemies? to lovers trope, full disclosure I have never been to vegas nor gambled (except on rdr2) so lets ignore any inconsistencies! wordcount: 6.8k

Radio: ‘Waking up in Vegas’ - Katy Perry

The first thing you’re aware of is the ringing in your ear. A flash of light. Blink, blink. Oh, god, my head’s killing me.

You don’t think you’ve ever had a worse hangover before in your life, which was saying something.

You sighed, turning your face into your pillow, stretching out your limbs. When did these barrack cots get so soft?

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel something catch on the silk. Your eyelashes. False, of course. Are you still wearing your makeup from last night?

You shift, lifting your head up from the pillow, brows furrowed together in drowsy confusion. The headboard is different— no, the whole room is different.

Right. You're in Vegas, you and the guys took a trip down here for the night.

You’re wearing a dress. You look down, it’s white, pretty enough, but you're so unbearably uncomfortable. You'd kill for a pair of pyjamas right now.

Sitting yourself upright, you glance around the room. Shit.

The light shining through the windows is barely shielded by the curtains, which, after rubbing your eyes, appear to be half hanging off the curtain rail — ripped out of the wall. The carpet is an ocean of cans and feathers, pillows, sheets, playing cards, casino chips which were undoubtedly stolen, and various articles of clothing. In the middle of it all an island, Soap, stripped down to his pants, passed out with a black bowtie around his neck. If your head wasn’t pounding right now, you’d have found this insanely funny.

The pictures are askew on the walls, and as your eyes pick up on more and more details of last night’s debauchery, you can’t help but cringe at how high the damage charge is going to be when you check out. You don’t even know which hotel this is.

Leaning back against the headboard, you feel hopeless. What the hell happened last night?

In a bout of despair, you bring your hands up to hopefully bury your sorrows and hide your face, and that’s when you notice it. The ring.

When did I start wearing jewellery?

Shit, there’s a diamond. Can’t be more carats than a standard engagement ring, but it’s beautiful. Of course, it doesn’t belong to you. You don’t own this ring. Did you steal it last night? You can’t remember anything.

The mattress shifts, you pull your hands from your face.

Simon is laid next to you, head resting against his bicep, wrist covering his eyes. The silk sheets flow over his hips, leaving just the valleys of muscle on his back exposed.

You don’t know when he got there, but you can’t help the thought that crosses your mind. Did you…?

No, you’re fully clothed. There’s no way.

But he really is beautiful like this, peaceful, in a way you’ve never had the pleasure of witnessing before. There are a few moles dotted on his back. You wished you could trace your fingers over his skin and join them up like constellations. And his hands, god.

His hand.

A ring.

A wedding band, silver, like the one you’re wearing-

You hear a groan from the bathroom. “Gaz?” You call out, your voice more hoarse than you intended. Legs wobbly, head pounding as you stand up. “Shitting hell…”

You round the bed, stepping on a few betting chips and cursing, being careful not to step on the sleeping beast at the foot of the bed. Soap always was a horrific snorer.

There was a clink of porcelain coming from the bathroom, and another groan. “Gaz, is that you in there?”

Oh, he was in there alright. Not exactly in the state you’d expected him to be. Or maybe this, the sergeant sprawled out in the bathtub, limbs askew, is exactly what you’d expected from him. “Fuckin’ hell, Kyle…”

“Wasn’ me, I swear…” He slurred, trying to lift his head up and failing miserably. You walked over to the tub, mildly tripping over your dress on the way in.

“C’mon, just...grab my hand-“ You told him, holding out your hand for him, pulling him up with a grunt. The blind leading the blind.

After hauling Gaz out of the bath and sitting him down on the edge of the tub, you lean against the sink with a sigh, adjusting the straps of your bra that had been digging into your shoulders as you slept. "What even happened last night?" You mumbled, dragging a hand over your exhausted features.

"Dunno..can't remember a thing- my head's fuckin' killing me." Kyle despaired, hunching over with his elbows to his thighs, head in hands.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't utterly bewildered, wondering why you were still in your clothes from last night, why the room was trashed, and why you felt like you'd been ran over by fifteen- no, sixteen industrial sized trucks moving at 115 miles per hour.

"Mine too. Let me check my bag, I should have some pain killers." You left the bathroom, trudging through the hallway, dragging your feet as you went.

Unsurprisingly the bedroom hadn't changed, no fairytale animals had come to do housekeeping, but Simon was now awake. He sat cross-legged amidst the heap of bedsheets, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"Morning." You said, your tone devoid of interest as you searched the floor for your bag, muttering about how disgusting the room was, and how much of a pig the guys were.

Soap stirred from his spot on the floor, groaning. You saw him roll over, spot you, and giggle. He was still drunk.

You rolled your eyes, rummaging through your bag for some aspirin, huffing and puffing about how you just wanted a damn change of clothes.

Simon, spoke up, his voice wavering behind you. "Hey, uh-"

Johnny interjected. "How's married life, you two?" He slurred, cackling with his knees up to his chest, rolling around on the floor like a child.

You scoffed, brows knitting together. That got your attention. "You've got a real sick sense of humour, Soap. Real fuckin' funny." You shook your head.

"You hear this guy-?" You mumbled, looking to Simon for some sense of sanity in this stuffy hotel room. Only he wasn't laughing.

No, he looked uncomfortable. More than usual.

Johnny, still laughing, managed to pull himself upright, poking his head up from the foot of the bed. That shit-eating grin could only mean one thing: danger. The alarms were ringing in your mind, what did he mean, 'married life'?

"You don't remember?" He murmured, that scottish accent luring you into a false sense of security. He was totally enjoying this, that welcoming tone didn't fool you.

"Johnny-" Simon warned, his voice gruff with the gravel of just waking up.

Soap couldn't stop laughing. Why did he find this funny?

"Finally locked down a lass, and she don't even remember?" He snickered, swaying drunkenly, "Aye, well that's just too bad, Ghost."

Simon's eye was twitching. If you weren't there, he probably would've knocked Johnny's teeth out.

"What? Simon- what is he talking about?" You turned to him, frowning, panicked. The pieces were coming together in your mind, but you didn't quite want to believe it just yet.

The dress, the rings. Oh my god. Had you actually let yourself get so drunk- had you really been that stupid as to marry your lieutenant in Vegas?

He looked at you sheepishly, swallowing back the nerves in his throat. "I, uh.."

You'd never seen him like this, shy, ashamed. And at the same time, you could swear there was something there, something slowly breaking in the bottom of his heart; he'd allowed himself to indulge in a fantasy for one night, to believe a girl like you could ever like a guy like him, and it had crumbled before his very eyes.

It was gone as soon as you noticed it. He straightened up.

"Looks like we're newlyweds, love." He stated, shrugging, as if he didn't have the slightest clue how this had happened either.

It was getting lighter outside. The sun reflected off the windows of the other buildings along the vegas strip, illuminating the hotel room. The ring on your finger caught the light.

You looked down, staring at the diamond with a certain kind of wonder and rage usually found a few floors down in the casino of the hotel.

Why the hell was Simon being so damn complacent? Why was no one explaining anything to you, and why the hell had your own brain betrayed you, gatekeeping the memories of last night?

Soap's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "What's wrong, Mrs Riley, is the rock too small?" He cackled, falling back against the carpet again.

Mrs Riley.

You were so deep in shit right now, you couldn't even blame Vegas to pull yourself out of this one.

14 Hours Prior

"Laswell's only agreed to let us stay one night." Price's voice rang out through the van, sat upfront with the driver like a dad on vacation. You stared out the window, watching the outskirts of the city pass by. Initially, you had voted against staying the extra night - you could care less about Vegas. But alas, Soap's whining had convinced you. "I'll go if you shut up", you told him back at the training camp dorm as you packed your bags. The week had been hell, Price had put you through hell. Running drills at the crack of dawn, gym sessions, competitive training simulations. Simon had set the record of 'who can save the doll from a burning building fastest' at 4.39 seconds. You had scraped in at 5.56 seconds.

All for good reason, of course. You were due to be shipped out to an unknown location in just a couple of weeks, top-secret stuff. Even Price hadn't been let in on any intel. You figured you'd do what you always do; get the job done whatever the cost.

"Consider this the last hurrah. Have fun, but don't stay out late. Don't do anything stupid." Price announced. "I want you in the lobby packed and ready to go at 1000 sharp tomorrow morning. If you're late-" Soap cut him off, "You'll break our necks, aye, we get it sir. Just don't be waitin' up for us eh? We'll behave." He leant forward in his seat, grabbing the captain's shoulders for reassurance. But the wink he gave you, and that 'I can't wait to get smashed' grin told you otherwise. Soap was planning on doing a little more than just letting loose.

He was planning on partying tonight, hard. And with his boys, how could anything go wrong?

Price said your name, pulling your attention from Johnny. "You're in charge tonight." He said, giving you a nod that said I'm counting on you.

Gaz interjected from the seat behind Soap's. "C'mon sir, putting the lady in charge?"

"Got nothin' to do with gender, she's just the least likely out of you three clowns to fuck everything up." Price said.

"What about Ghost, you don't think he's dependable?" Soap muttered, hands gripping the captain's headrest as he leant forward excitedly in his seat, seatbelt tucked under his arm like a kid that couldn't sit still.

"Oh, Ghost's got a wild side. I've seen it." Price murmured, his mustache lifting in a smirk that only you could see from where you were sat. Soap cackled, glancing over his shoulder at the masked presence behind you. "That true, Ghost?" He grinned.

You could practically hear Simon's eyes rolling, you didn't have to check.

"Shut up, Johnny." He grumbled, his voice hoarse beneath the mask, as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in a while.

You shook your head in light amusement at the boys' antics, smiling as you watched the world outside of the van. That's when you saw it, the sign.

'Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada'

Sitting up straighter in your seat, "Guys, look-", finger pressed against the glass. "It's the sign."

Soap nearly fell out of his seat trying to catch a glimpse, Gaz unbuckled his seatbelt to crowd Ghost's space and press his cheek up against the glass. There was a melodical 'Oooh' of awe from the van. Simon just grunted noncommitally.

This was it. One night of fun reserved just for you and your coworkers. Team. Friends?

You didn't really know what to call them. Sure, you liked them, got along with everyone. You'd only been in the 141 for a little under a year, and yet it still felt like they had all these stories you weren't involved in, memories that you weren't there for; a tight knit group that you just couldn't quite penetrate.

Maybe tonight would bring you all closer on a personal level. Work had been pretty non-stop since you joined, not enough time for the small moments. You hoped tonight would offer that much needed respite, a chance to really get to know everyone. Especially some of the quieter members.

To be honest with yourself, you just wanted to know what was going on in Simon's head. It had been driving you crazy, the stares, the small gestures that made you question do you actually like me or are we just doing business? You couldn't get a read on him, not like Soap, who practically threw himself at you, or Gaz who was easy to talk to, or Price, who had taken you under his wing and made you feel truly like one of the guys. No, Simon was represented by a blank page in your mind, a vast nothingness, crinkles in the paper and faded words where you'd scribbled out an idea in pencil and erased it almost immediately after your next interaction with him.

For once in your life, you couldn't plan ahead. Couldn't predict his next move, his greeting to you in the morning, if he'd greet you at all. It was your great skill in life, understanding those around you, it was what made you so good at your job. You were a people person.

With Simon, you were a nobody. You were lost. And it drove you insane.

Johnny smirked, watching your profile against the window as the Las Vegas sign passed by. You slumped back in your seat, sad that it was out of sight.

"Look who's excited about Vegas, eh?" He grinned, nudging you with his elbow. It wasn't even 24 hours ago you were pouting about having to spent another night in Nevada.

Now you were...sort of looking forward to it. You'd learned at a very young age not to get your hopes up, but tonight, despite all odds you were hopeful. Who knew what could happen?

The van pulled up outside Caesars Palace, the hotel you'd be staying at for the night. It was truly a marvel, a great grecian structure built on money and gambler's tears. If only Caesar himself had been there to see it. Kyle kept pointing at things in the lobby, talking about how this was, 'just like The Hangover'.

You each had your own room, but that didn't stop Johnny from busting your door down as you got ready for dinner. He called out your name from the other room, sounding like he was on a mission as he tripped over your bag on the way.

Soap found you in the bathroom, doing your makeup. You almost laughed at the sight of him in the mirror, dressed in a tux. "We're going all out tonight, ye hear me? Got you this." He said. You turned around to see him holding a long white dress with a sweetheart neckline, a slit up to the thigh. It looked simple, but... structurally sound. You didn't wear dresses often.

"Oh- wow, that's...a bit bride-like don't you think?" You asked, stepping forward to take the hanger from him.

"Then you better find a groom, bonnie, 'cause we've got these rented for the next twelve hours." He chuckled, pulling at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. You stared down at the gown in your hands, feeling the material between your fingers.

"C'mon, didn't you play dress up as a wee lass?" He asked, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

"Well, yeah-"

"Then finish getting dolled up and meet us downstairs. Heard the food at this restaurant is exquisite, bonnie, not to be missed." And just like that, he had convinced you, with a sickeningly charming grin and that stupid haircut. If he hadn't joined the military, he probably would have made a killing as a car salesman.

You left your room fifteen minutes later, having struggled with the zipper for about ten, and stared at yourself in distaste for five. It wasn't that you didn't look good, no. The dress fit disturbingly perfect, and you felt sexy. But when was the last time you had worn something like this? You were sure it had been years, definitely before you joined the military. It had been army trousers and sweaty vests for so long, that the feeling of your legs being out in the open was a shock to the senses. Not to mention these heels.

But you sucked it up, because tonight was about bonding with your teammates, and you were sure you'd be too drunk to care about the nauseatingly high slit on your thigh in about an hour or so.

You met the team down in the lobby. They looked like some kind of gang, dressed in matching tuxedos, all with their own little personal spin. Price had retired the tie for the night, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. Soap had abandoned the blazer, said it was 'suffocating his fun', his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, wearing a black bow-tie and waistcoat. Gaz hadn't scruffed himself up like the others; he rocked his suit with casual swagger. And Ghost, well.

He was hard to miss. The suit accentuated his broad shoulders, head covered by the usual skull balaclava. He stood out like a tall tree, and god did you want to climb him.

Price smiled as he spotted you coming out of the elevator, nodding in your direction. "She's over there." He said to Johnny, who lit up at your appearance.

"Fits then, eh?" He grinned as you walked over, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked you up and down.

You felt wildly uncomfortable, being seen in such a glamorous light by the four men who had only ever seen you at your worst; covered in mud, blood, and other debris from war. But here, under the light of the Vegas glow, you were beautiful. Together, you all looked like some kind of mismatched wedding party.

You could feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time.

"Yeah, it fits." You replied, smirking amusedly at Soap.

"You look great." He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets, looking proud of his dress choosing skills. "Like a proper bonnie."

"Can finally tell you apart." Gaz chimed in, grinning at his own joke.

You rolled your eyes. "Har-har."

"Yes, we all look dazzling, but that reservation isn't going to wait for us." Price announced, smiling at you. It was subtle, the way he looked at you, but it told you that he thought you looked nice too. You smiled back. "Shall we go?" He asked, holding out his arm for you to take.

You chuckled softly, taking the captain's arm. "Yes sir."

Soap tailed the two of you, grinning. "Real fuckin' gentleman you are cap, you know that?" He jeered. Gaz laughed beside him.

You could see Price smirking out of the corner of your eye, looking pleased with his chivalry. "It's the only thing we're good for lads, one day you'll learn that." He said.

Soap continued to banter with the captain as you walked through the lobby of Caesar's Palace, a gaggle of highly skilled military operatives playing dress-up for the night. If anyone found out, they'd probably think you were a joke.

Not that you were paying attention, but Simon hadn't said anything about your dress. Not that he had to, but it sure would've been nice to receive a compliment, or atleast a grunt.

Instead, he just trailed along silently beside the rest of the guys, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, eyes focused on nothing but you and the movement of your hips as you walked, your mouth-watering legs on display for him, the rhythmic click-clack of your heels taunting him. He hated not having what he wanted. If only you knew how much he wanted you, that each brief accidental brush of your fingertips and meeting of your eyes was used as fuel to the ever-burning fire in his heart that had started when you joined the 141. He stroked his cock at night to just the thought of you, and you thought he hated you. It was almost comical. Maybe you guys were a joke.

In your defence, he didn't make it obvious. No, that would be too easy. Eye-fucking you from across the room was Simon's go-to move.

Price had booked a table at this cushy 5-star michelin restaurant within the hotel, with low lighting and round tables reserved for quiet chatter and drunken whispers. The walls were avant-garde, the architecture something out of a magazine. But you wouldn't expect anything less, judging by the look of the lobby, you had high expectations. And oh, they were met alright.

You had champagne on tap courtesy of the captain's credit card, and as much food as you could imagine. The portions were small and the flavours rich, with sauces detailing the plates. This wasn't just a step up from the base canteen, this was a whole other planet.

"I'm never eating rations again." Gaz said, mouth full of crab.

"I second that." You added, feeling a little bubblier now that you were a few glasses deep.

Johnny kept whispering dirty jokes in your ear all throughout the meal, and unlike your sober self who would've rolled your eyes and swatted him away, you were laughing. At every. Single. One of them. Some might even say you couldn't stop laughing.

And Johnny was eating up every bit of it.

He loved getting a reaction out of you, and now that you were finally all giggly and blushing with a perfect ear for him to murmur into? Yeah, you better believe he was taking full advantage of it.

He leant over as Price ordered his desert, asking for 'extra cream'.

"I bet that isn't the first time he's asked for extra cream."

You, about five glasses in now and mid-sip, burst out laughing. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth as champagne came running out of your nose.

Simon got up from the table, muttering something about needing a piss as he slammed his napkin down and stormed off. You hardly noticed, too preoccupied with being patted on the back like a baby by Gaz. Soap was absolutely no help, laughing and pointing at you as the Captain shook his head in amusing concern, passing Kyle his napkin to help clean you up.

The champagne dried, and so did your tears. Johnny was eager to get to the casino as you came out of the restaurant, which Price took as his cue to leave.

"M'hangin' up my hat for the night, team." He said, and after shushing a whining Soap, murmured something about being too old for this.

You gave him a quick hug goodnight, thanked him for the dinner, before waving him off with the rest of the guys as he walked to the lobby elevators.

Turning your attention back to Soap, you immediately recognised that grin. You all did.

"So who's buying the first round?" He asked.

"I will." Simon replied, already leading the way to the casino floor. Johnny trailed behind. "Really Lt? You'd do that for me?" He taunted with faux-puppy eyes, following Simon like a needy chihuahua.

"If I don't have to hear you mouth off for the rest of the night, I'd do anything." He grumbled.

"Anything you say?"

You and Gaz followed behind, chuckling softly at the banter between Ghost and Soap. Kyle surprised you sometimes, whether it was his refreshing insight during a mission brief or just simply bringing you a coffee in the mornings, and in that moment you felt pleasantly surprised as he offered you his arm like the captain had done a few hours ago. "M'lady." He grinned.

You laughed, taking his arm. "Price has taught you boys well."

The atmosphere of the casino was like entering a completely different world. The ceiling streamed in bright lights, the floor covered in grecian-style carpets and gold encrusted slot machines with comfy leather seats. You walked through the rows of blackjack and roulette tables in complete awe, hearing the frustrated groans of one patron coming from your left, and the cheer of another after winning a game on your right. The place was crowded with people, each hoping to try their luck and win a fortune fit for Caesar himself. You thought if he could see this right now, he'd roll over in his grave.

As you reached the bar at the far end of the casino hall, Ghost ordered a round of tequila shots. Holding up your salt-rimmed shot glass, you looked around at your teammates.

You wanted tonight to be special. You wanted to make memories that would last, to finally feel like you weren't just working with these guys but friends.

"A toast." You announced, chin held up high. Soap grinned at you, Kyle chuckled. They all held up their shots in solidarity.

"To Vegas, and to task force 141." You smiled, Ghost nodded, and there was a unanimous 'wheeey' from the guys as you clinked your glasses together, tequila splashing onto your fingers. You knocked the shot back like a champ, sucking on the lime for relief immediately after.

You all traversed the hall, following after Soap, who was eager to get on a slot machine. You crowded his seat, watching as he pulled the lever.

Lemon...cherries...BAR.

"Fuck's sake-" He grunted. Gaz grabbed his shoulders, rubbing them aggressively. "Come on, you beautiful man. You've got this."

You and Simon cheered Johnny on from the sidelines, grinning at the sight of Gaz coaching him through this like he was a boxer in the ring.

Soap pulled the lever again.

BAR...BAR...Lemon.

You groaned along with the others, laughing as Soap got up from his seat, hanging his head dejectedly, muttering something about needing to stop before he blew his life's savings.

After watching a few other people play, there was a unanimous decision among the group to go get another round. You were totally drunk by this point, wondering how Simon managed to stay so damn stoic and mysterious even whilst intoxicated.

Next was roulette. You stood at the foot of the table, watching the dealer. Simon was coaching you, he told you he used to watch his dad gamble when he was a kid, said he knew what to do. Soap and Gaz crowded the two of you, eager to see if you'd win.

The dealer tossed the ball, the wheel spinning, the colours blurring into a haze of red and green. The numbers slowed to a halt.

7.

It wasn't much, but you'd won your bet back. The team erupted into drunken roar. Soap and Gaz bumped chests behind you as Simon clapped you on the shoulder. You high-fived him.

"Thanks, Lt." You smirked.

"Anytime, love."

The rest of your time in the casino was a flurry of stumbling around, laughter, and tequila. After skipping down the golden halls of Caesar's palace and almost breaking your ankle, you made it outside. The fresh air hit you in waves, the rise and fall of your chest like the sweeping of the tide. You held your arms out and closed your eyes, stood at the top of the concrete stairs of the exit, and in that moment, you felt eternal.

Soap ran past you, grabbing your hand and hauling you down the steps. You laughed, grabbing onto him for support as you stumbled out onto the street. The city was alive, and so were you, and all you could think of in that moment was Simon.

He and Kyle trudged down the stairs after you, watching as you almost keeled over, cackling.

"Alright-" Simon mumbled, peeling you away from Johnny. He was far too drunk to keep you in check, Simon didn't trust him.

"Slow down, you two." He said, letting you press a flushed cheek to his chest, grabbing handfuls of his blazer to hold yourself upright. Simon slid an arm around your waist. He had to pretend this wasn't making his heart race. You had to pretend you didn't want to slide your hands into the warmth of his jacket and press your face into his neck.

"You got a vendetta against havin' fun, Lt?" Soap taunted, swaying drunkenly as he stared at the sight before him with a slight grin.

"No, but she ain't gonna be havin' much fun if she's puking her guts up because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself." Simon snapped.

"Oh, and you can?"

"Take a walk, Johnny."

"C'mon, lads, let's be civil." Kyle stepped in, knowing Soap was just trying to get a rise out of Simon.

Johnny knew better than anyone how Ghost felt about you. It was obvious to him. He just needed to spark enough jealousy in his lieutenant for the grump to actually make the moves on you.

Gaz managed to pull Johnny away, patting him on the back as they walked on down the street.

Simon turned to you. "Can you walk, love?"

"Hm? Yeah- fine." You slurred, blinking up at him with a dreamy look in your eyes. God, his chest really did feel like a wall.

The two of you followed after Soap and Gaz, briefly stopping to sit yourself down on a bench and take off the matching white torture devices on your feet called heels. Simon held them for you as you walked side by side.

A few minutes down the Vegas strip, you came across the fountains at the Bellagio. It was midnight, and the final show of the night was starting. You watched as Soap spotted a bachelorette party, running over to photobomb them. Gaz ran after him, holding his stomach as he laughed.

The fountain show was spectacular, great big sprays of water in majestic slopes, dancing in unison with the grace of a swan. You watched in awe, the light reflected across your features.

Simon glanced over at you after boring of Soap's antics. He couldn't help but smile under the mask, reaching his free hand into his pocket.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, peeled up the bottom of his mask, and brought the pack to his mouth to pull one out. He lit the end and took a drag, before offering it to you.

You did a double take, having to tear your gaze from the fountain. "Oh- thanks." You said, taking the cigarette from him.

Simon watched as you inhaled, letting the fumes fill your lungs, he found himself growing jealous. He wished it was he who was inside of you, not the smoke.

Your eyes narrowed as you exhaled, watching Soap get pulled along by the bowtie by a woman wearing a 'Bride' sash. The other girls were grabbing at him and Gaz, scruffing up his mohawk with hilarious interest.

"You know-" You began, your cheeks flushed with the pink hue of alcohol. "I think I'm finally starting to get you." You said, handing him the cigarette back.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He scoffed a small laugh, taking another drag of the cigarette. "And what exactly does that mean?"

You smiled, watching his profile, gaze fixed on the fountains. "The brooding stares, the grunting, the mask. It's all a facade." You explained.

He smirked, letting the smoke blow past his lips. He glanced over at you. "Is that what you think?"

Your smile grew wider as your eyes met his. He offered you the cigarette again. You took it.

"I think.." You took a drag. "That behind all that muscle and mystery is a big heart."

Simon watched as the smoke curled from your mouth when you spoke. He was transfixed by the certainty in your words.

You weren't afraid of him. You certainly weren't afraid to tell him what you thought of him, and as much as he'd like to deny it, you were right. He knew he had heart because he felt it pound in his chest everytime you were near. It was in his jealousy, his protectiveness, in the way he stared at you across the common room, in the way he'd shielded you from Johnny earlier, in how he'd stormed off from the table at dinner when he saw you laughing at another guy's jokes.

He knew he had heart because you existed. Because you had entered his life around this time last year and changed him forever.

No one had ever told him he had heart. No one had stuck around long enough to see through his hard shell, no one had ever bothered to get right down to his core.

Except you.

You grew concerned the longer he stared. "Am I wrong?" You asked, sheepishly.

He shook his head, blinking in astonishment. "No..."

"No, love. Not wrong at all."

You heard someone call out your name, turning around to see Gaz running up to the both of you. He was out of breath. "I can't-"

"Can't find Johnny, he was with me, and then those women- they're vultures, they-"

"Slow down, Kyle." You said, tossing your cigarette to the floor before gabbing onto his shoulder. "What do you mean, you can't find him? Where did you go?"

He took a deep breath before responding, Simon pulled his mask back down and got to looking around, trying to spot a flurry of pink dresses and tiaras.

"They told us there was a club nearby, s-said they had a table, wanted to dance with us- We're simple men, you have to understand- and they were wearing a lot of perfume..." Kyle's eyes drifted off behind you, smiling to himself at the memory.

Simon interjected, appearing beside you both with a silk black tie in his hand, identical to the ones the boys' had rented. "Come on." He grunted.

Like some sick retelling of Hansel and Gretel, the three of you followed a trail of Soap's clothes all the way down the Vegas strip, until you found him naked and hopeless, curled up on the street outside a 24-hour wedding chapel in nothing but his underwear.

"Oh, thank the lord-" He cried, rushing over to Kyle, grabbing his face in his hands. You were finding it very hard to suppress the laughter bubbling up in your throat, knowing this was a sensitive moment for Johnny.

"I thought they got you too!" He cried, pulling Gaz into a bear hug, to which he rejected, pushing his naked teammate away.

"Get dressed, you bastard." Simon scoffed, tossing Soap his pile of clothes.

Whilst Gaz stood on the curb apologising to unsuspecting pedestrians for his friend's indecency, you and Simon watched from the side. You laughed, still feeling the buzz in your stomach, the free sway of your equilibrium.

"You know what would be crazy right now?" You giggled to yourself, staring up at the sign outside the wedding chapel.

"What?" Simon answered, equally as buzzed as you.

He frowned, glancing up at what you seemed to be grinning at.

He glanced back down at your shining face, a thought crossing his mind before he shook it away.

You bit your lip, knowing you were insane for even thinking it.

"Nothing." You giggled.

"Oh, come on..." He smiled, his eyes hazy as he watched you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

You laughed, stumbling around barefoot. "No, it's nothing. You'll think I'm weird."

"I already think you're weird." He smirked.

You shot him a look. But your mouth was already moving before your brain could keep up. "I was just thinking.."

"..Don't you think it'd be so funny if we got married right now?"

Soap had finished putting his clothes back on, trudging over to the two of you. Gaz trailed behind, saying goodbye to a drunk couple he was talking to. "What's this I hear about gettin' married?" Johnny grinned.

Simon was staring at you. Dumbfounded.

You were either incredibly stupid or a complete idiot. One, for wanting to marry him of all people, and two for deciding this on a drunken whim.

And he was absolutely all in.

"Let's do it." He said, pulling his hand out of his pocket, the other still holding your shoes.

"Yeah?" You lit up, grinning up at him.

"Alright! Let's do this!" Soap erupted into excitement, Gaz too once he'd caught on. "Happy for you, man." He told Simon, blinking in a slow, drunk sort of complacent way.

You headed into the chapel and were greeted by none other than an Elvis impersonator. You wouldn't expect anything less from Vegas.

He led you and Simon to a small desk by the entrance, where it was perhaps too easy to get registered. But there was something missing.

"Johnny!" You called him over, sending him and Gaz on an errand. If you and Simon were truly going to be married, you needed rings, of course.

The two of them returned with two silver rings from a pawn shop a little further up the street, handing Simon his card back. The two of you signed the marriage contract, your heart pounding in your chest.

You couldn't believe you were really doing this.

The Elvis impersonator handed you a bouquet courtesy of their 'Newlyweds' package. To make it an official union, you needed at least two witnesses. Thankfully Johnny and Kyle were there, stood in the pews of the chapel with faux-teary eyes.

Simon stood at the altar next to Elvis, rolling back his shoulders, standing with his feet slightly apart. He was nervous, but he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. You were the one constant, the one motivation, and you'd been his for the past year whether you knew it or not.

He wanted this. He wanted you. He didn't care what stupid lengths he had to go to. This was it, you were the one for him, the only one who understood him.

The tinny melody of 'Here Comes the Bride' could be heard from the small speaker in the corner of the chapel. You stood behind the saloon-style heart-engraved wooden doors to the church, heart racing.

You were so incredibly excited. It felt like fate, the white dress, the rings, Simon. You knew that whatever forces out there had been looking out for you. You knew that this was your fairytale happy ever after.

You took a step out into the aisle, and Soap kicked up a fuss at the sight of you, cheering and clapping. You laughed, walking carefully in tune with the music. Don't fall over. Don't fall over. Don't fall over.

Your eyes met Simon's, and the rest of the world melted away. You wanted to kiss him, terribly. But Elvis had to speak first.

As you reached the altar, you handed Gaz your bouquet, turning to take Simon's hands in yours.

"We are gathered here today..."

You weren't listening. You couldn't. Not when he was in front of you, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, eyes softening behind the mask. As a little girl, you'd always thought about this moment, wondered what your wedding would be like. You weren't very particular about the details, but there was one condition.

You wanted to be looked at like that. Exactly like that.

Soap stepped up to hand you Simon's ring. You snapped out of your daze.

"Do you take this man to be your husband?" Elvis asked.

You smiled, sliding the ring onto Simon's finger. "I do."

"And do you," Soap handed Ghost your ring. "Take this woman to be your wife?"

"I do." He said without hesitation, sliding the ring onto your finger.

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering as you glanced up at him.

"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada.." The impersonator announced, voice laced in vague Elvis-ness.

Simon squeezed your hands a little tighter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

You didn't wait to be told, letting your hands slip out of his grasp, reaching up to peel back the bottom half of his balaclava. You giggled at the irony, imagining it was your own perfect twist on a man peeling back the bride's veil.

Simon cupped your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you as soon as humanly possible. Your lips met, your eyes fell shut, your nose nudged against his, and you felt incredible.

Maybe it was Vegas, maybe it was the alcohol, but you had never been happier to call yourself Mrs Riley.

Thankyou for reading this ridiculously self indulgent and stupid plot idea I had while listening to katy perry! Hope you enjoyed <3

I had soo much fun writing this and I have a lot of ideas on where to take it so please let me know if you'd like more!

Drop a comment to be added to the taglist <3

— anna

[shroompette]

Do you guys think that they turned on the radio in the escapee car at the end of the ‘alone’ mission?

I think they would 😔🤙

I have been working on this for a bit and I honestly liked the sketch better smh but eh it is what it is, and I need to figure out how to fix the damn quality to be better 😔

[shroompette]

Giggling thinking about talking to Ghost like I talk to all my other friends.

A particularly good kill in the field?

"Pop off Lt! Werk!"

Just a slow turn to you. Confused and so disappointed.

You notice he's refreshed his mask. Redone the paint and fixed the crack that had been bugging him for months.

"Oh you ate, sir."

He just stops and stares. Not a clue what you're saying. He thinks it positive? That's the only reason he lets it slide.

He's complaining to you about Johnny not leaving him alone.

"It's giving... needy."

"Kid, what the fuck are you talking about."

After months of this maybe he'd respond. A totally deadpan, "Slay." Whenever you do well. Not a hint of warmth but it makes you beam with pride.

He's such an old man. I want to make him feel older.

[shroompette]

Sheep farmer omega!Reader getting thrown into Minotaur Konig’s maze while on the cusp of heat. They're hoping it’ll make her taste sweeter and keep Konig sated longer. What they don’t expect is when Konig finds her he buries his tongue in her cunt followed shortly thereafter by his cock. Whole thing ends with Reader guiding Konig out of the maze and them travelling back to the sheep farm to be happy together.

[shroompette]

His bed is a little too small

Another imagination of sleep with Konig, enjoy your comfort after ending the mission with Konig

the little guy is his son : ) (I saw a video of Konig lifting up his mask and showing his little toy" his son" to you, and I CAN'T GET RID OF HOW CUTE IT IS)

[shroompette]

FEAR OF GOD | MASTERLIST

GAZ x READER

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew.

Or: the scifi horror au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, AFAB reader - Freeform, Space Horror, Psychological Horror, TBA

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Extras

Series moodboard Ambient playlist (+ Extra)

[shroompette]

more forcemasc with simon? based off that tiny slur sayer ghost blurb you did? perhaps and please?

(If yall want more slur sayer ghost check out hole-is-a-hole ghost posts from @/ghouljams that shits amazing)

You really, really like ghost. Hes your lieutenant, strong as hell and a total asshole. Power imbalance, muscles, and toxic masculinity? You want to fuck him almost as much as you want to be him.

It sucks that what you have is...this. a distinctly feminine body that not even fatigues and gear can hide, hair thats pulled into a bun each morning. But god, ghost has been looking at you recently and youre getting desperate. If it means getting into ghosts bed, you don't mind playing the part of a woman. You can hate yourself and feel disgust afterwards.

But when you try to flirt? Look up at him with fluttering lashes? Ghost fucking laughs at you. Outright laughter that has your blood boiling, already feeling gross and ashamed that youre acting like a damn girl and he laughs?

He must notice the clear upset on your face, eyes wrinkling from the grin under that balaclava. Ghost leans down, rests a forearm above your head on the wall "you make a damn poor excuse for a woman, soldier. Dont try to fucking fool me,"

Then, lower, right against your ear "I know youre a fuckin' man, so why dont you start acting like it?"

And, God, you really should be upset. You should be pissed. But hearing ghost aknowledge your masculinity? It does something for you. Before you can really consider what youre doing, you follow ghost when he drags you to his quarters.

A hand against your neck, pushing you chest-down into the bed. Ghosts other hand undoing your belt "damn trannies these days dont know shit. Im gonna teach you how to take it like a man, got it?"

And by God does he teach you. Rough palms and thick muscle pushing you whatever way he wants, telling you that you make a good faggot. Its amazing, overwhelming, and life-altering all at the same time. Youve only ever been with guys who didnt really see you as one, but ghost actively pushes that masculinity onto you.

And when hes done? Laying on his chest and kneading the fat there? He whispers, "put in the med forms for yer fuckin' shots. I want to really mold you into a man."

[shroompette]

Two Tiny Needles

Dad Simon Riley x Mom Reader

Y/N didn’t pace. She never paced. But this morning, she hovered.

Every time Simon glanced over from the twins’ diaper bag. Packed with three changes of clothes, two blankets, formula, pacifiers, and one stuffed wolf. He caught her standing with arms crossed, eyes on the clock, brows drawn in tight.

She was quiet. Which for Y/N… was worse than panicked.

“You all right, love?” he asked gently, finishing the bottle prep like they were packing for a covert op instead of a pediatric visit.

She didn’t answer right away. Just gave a little shrug and muttered, “I know it’s nothing. But they’re babies. Our babies.”

Simon crossed the room, resting his hand on the small of her back. “It’s a few jabs. They’ll cry for a second. Then we’ll bring ‘em home and let ‘em fall asleep on us like they always do.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “What if they think we betrayed them?”

Simon smirked, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Then you’ll bribe ‘em with soft toys. And I’ll pretend I didn’t almost pass out from how loud Ellie screams.”

Y/N sighed. “Deal.”

~

The fluorescent lights were harsh. The waiting room chairs were too small.

Aiden rested quietly in Simon’s arms, tucked up against his father's chest, blinking slow and sleepy.

Ellie, on the other hand, sat in Y/N’s lap like a ticking time bomb, already squirming, already suspicious of everything.

“She knows,” Simon whispered.

“She always knows,” Y/N replied under her breath.

When the nurse finally called them in, Ellie’s grip tightened on Y/N. The room was too clean. The tray of little syringes too obvious.

They undressed both twins to their onesies.

Simon held Aiden first, rocking slightly on his feet. “All right, son,” he murmured. “This’ll be quick, yeah? Be brave for Mum.”

Aiden flinched at the first pinch. Let out a tiny, startled cry. Simon didn’t flinch, he just held him closer, soothing low in his ear until the whimpers quieted into hiccups.

Then came Ellie.

Ellie took one look at the nurse, twisted in Y/N’s arms, and let out a shriek loud enough to make the floor tremble. The second the needle touched her chubby thigh, she screamed like she’d just been betrayed by every human on Earth.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, Mama’s got you,”

Y/N rocked and bounced, but the girl had lungs. She clung to her mother’s shirt like her life depended on it, her tiny hand fisting the collar with warrior strength.

Simon held Aiden, looking both sympathetic and mildly horrified. “She’s gonna remember that ‘til she’s thirty.”

“I’m adding ‘needles’ to her known weaknesses. Right next to naps.”

~

The second the front door shut behind them, Simon exhaled like he’d just finished a twelve-hour mission. Aiden was already asleep again in his arms, little head tucked under his jaw.

Y/N bounced Ellie in slow, careful movements. She’d finally stopped crying but was still giving everyone the silent treatment.

“She’s scowling in her sleep,” Y/N whispered.

“She gets that from you.”

“I don’t scowl.”

“You’re scowling right now.”

She shot him a look. “I watched them stick her. I’m allowed.”

Simon brushed past her and gently took Ellie. She flopped against his chest with a sleepy grumble, then settled as his hand rubbed her back in slow circles.

Y/N folded her arms. “How do you do that?”

“I’m very charming.”

She snorted. “You’re very warm. That’s all.”

He grinned as he passed by her into the living room. “Same thing.”

~

Both babies lay in their crib, band-aids on their thighs, cheeks pink from tears and milk. Aiden snored softly. Ellie twitched in her sleep, then reached blindly for her brother’s arm and held on.

Simon stood in the doorway with an arm slung over Y/N’s shoulders.

“They survived,” she said softly.

“So did we,” he replied.

“Barely.”

“Next round’s in two months.”

They stared in mutual horror for a beat.

Then Y/N whispered, “Next time, you hold Ellie.”

Simon shook his head. “Next time, we bring Soap.”

~

Thank you for reading!💚

Tag list✨

@emilyyyyyys-stuff

[shroompette]

simon riley talking to your unborn baby thinking you’re asleep.

it’s close to one in the morning when the front door shuts.

you’re already in bed, lights off, curled on your side with the blanket pulled up to your shoulders. the house is quiet except for the low creak of floorboards under his weight—those slow, careful steps he only makes when he’s trying not to wake you.

he doesn’t turn on the light. you hear the muted clink of his watch landing on the nightstand, the low scrape of fabric as he pulls his shirt over his head. his breathing is even, but there’s something in it—a heaviness, like the day’s still clinging to his ribs.

the mattress dips when he sits down beside you. for a moment, you think he’s just going to leave it at that: a soft kiss to your temple, his fingertips brushing a stray piece of hair from your face.

but then he shifts. slides down slowly, easing himself flat on his stomach beside you until his face is level with your small bump.

his hand comes first—warm, steady—resting just above your navel. his thumb traces lazy, almost unconscious arcs against the thin cotton of your sleep shirt.

he breathes in. holds it.

“hey, little one,” he murmurs, voice low, almost shy. “it’s your dad.”

the words feel heavier than they should, like he’s not used to hearing himself say them.

“i don’t know if you can hear me yet. or if you’ll even care, later. but… i figure i should start somewhere.” his head tips forward slightly, forehead brushing your stomach. “i’m not good at this. talking. and i wasn’t supposed to be a dad. me and your mum… we didn’t think it was for us.”

his palm spreads wider, protective, almost possessive.

“then she told me about you, and—” he breaks off with a short exhale. “—and suddenly it’s all i can think about. you. her. what it’s gonna take to keep you both safe.”

his voice hardens for a moment, just enough to hear the soldier in him. “there’s a lot out there i don’t want anywhere near you. things i’ve done, things i’ve seen. they stay with me, but they won’t touch you. not while i’ve got breath in me.”

he pauses, long enough for the quiet to fill in.

“truth is, i’m scared.” the admission is almost a whisper. “scared i won’t be enough. scared i’ll go out there one day and… not come back.”

his breathing stutters—just slightly—and you feel the first warm drop of a tear sink through the fabric into your skin. then another.

“but i’ll try,” he says, voice breaking soft. “every time. i’ll come home. i’ll be here.”

he leans in, pressing his lips to the curve of your stomach. it’s not just a kiss—it lingers, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of it.

“love you,” he whispers. “both of you.”

when he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. he pushes himself up the bed again, curling in behind you, one arm sliding snugly around your waist. his hand comes to rest over your stomach, warm and grounding.

you keep your breathing even, eyes closed, letting him believe you’re still asleep.

but your chest aches with the knowledge that you’ve just heard a side of him the rest of the world will never touch.