sab0dssey

[sab0dssey]

sleeping with simon riley includes...

a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)

random muttering and mumbling from him/you

nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)

his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)

cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.

either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while

the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)

laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.

HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly

sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys

a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off

FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more

nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(

tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[sab0dssey]

Being John’s little wife was the best thing that ever happened to you. John is ten years older than you. He’s big, broad-shouldered, every move he makes shaped by military discipline. But when it comes to you… everything softens. His voice, his touch everything about him turns gentle. You are his everything, and he never lets you forget it.

For example, he always wakes up before you, slipping out of bed quietly to make your coffee. He prepares it exactly the way you like, just the right amount of sugar, the perfect splash of milk. Then, he brings it to you while you’re still half-asleep, hair messy, eyes barely open. He just smiles, handing you the cup. “Morning, little lady,” he murmurs, his voice warm and drowsy.

If you’re busy during the day, he never disturbs you but he never really leaves, either. He lingers close, a quiet, steady presence. Sometimes, he brushes his fingers over your shoulder, presses a quick kiss to your temple. If you’re reading, he rests his head on your lap, just to be near you.

When you go out together, he’s always protective. His hand stays on your waist, guiding you through crowds, making sure no one bumps into you. If he spots a small chocolate he knows you love, he buys it without a word and slips it into your bag. “Saw this and thought of you,” he says simply, but the warmth in his eyes makes your heart melt.

When you get home, if you’re tired, he even kneels to take off your shoes for you. “My little wife’s had a long day,” he teases, then scoops you up in his arms and drops you onto the couch. He massages your feet with those big, calloused hands of his, smirking as he says, “These tiny feet walked too much today.”

At night, if you can’t sleep, he always notices. Without a word, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m here,” he whispers in the dark. “I’ll always be here.”

And in his strong, protective arms, you feel like the safest person in the world.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Thank you for 150 followers, gonna cry ( ╥ ᴗ ╥). This is John by the way.

[sab0dssey]

just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.

he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.

“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”

he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.

“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”

cod masterlist

[sab0dssey]

‘honey, i’m home.’

simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.

the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.

you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it—letting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldn’t place it.

when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.

simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since you’d gazed into those stormy eyes—five years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.

your breath hitched painfully. ‘wake up,’ you said to yourself, heart racing. ‘please… wake up.’

but you didn’t.

‘lovie…’ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time. ‘i’m home.’

your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be here.

simon’s expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didn’t care.

he was here.

you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotions—relief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.

‘they told me you were dead,’ you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. ‘they said your plane crashed. that you were gone.’

you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.

simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. ‘every bloody day, i fought my way back for you,’ he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he’d endured. ‘you were the only reason i stayed alive.’

you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking you’d lost him forever—all of it shattered in his arms.

but then, simon’s grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.

his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.

‘where’s your ring?’ he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.

your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. ‘simon…’ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. that’s when he saw them—new photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.

it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.

you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. ‘i waited…’ you whispered. ‘even when they told me there wasn’t a chance you were alive, i tried.’

his face didn’t change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. ‘i came back for you,’ he uttered softly, almost to himself. ‘i told you i’d come to you.’

‘i thought you were gone,’ you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. ‘i didn’t know how to keep waiting when they told me you’d never come back.’

simon’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. ‘i didn’t survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. ‘i fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again… i will.’

you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost moments—they still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.

‘i told you i’d come back,’ he said, voice low but steady. ‘and i’m not going anywhere. not ever again.’

[sab0dssey]

bit of a long one and it’s angsty and sad so just forewarning.

wc: 2552

Three months has never felt so long for Simon, it was an excruciating amount of time away from the one person he wanted to hold onto for as long as he could. But when he got home to his shared apartment bare, the bones completely stripped clean from any remnants of another life in the space, he cracked. He smashed the walls, broke glass cups and plates, he screamed at the top of his lungs. He had been so mixed up in his rage he’d failed to notice the note at first. With shaky hands and tear stained cheeks, he picked up the frail piece of paper.

Simon,

I never wanted things to end this way. I never wanted to leave you like this, but things are changing between us. You left without notice and expected me to be completely fine. You expected me to sit and wait for you this time, not even knowing if you’d ever walk through the door again.

You broke my heart; you never called, never texted, never even sent a damn letter to me indicating you were fine. No one did, not even your counterparts. I couldn’t wait any longer, the least I wanted was anything to tell me you were coming back. I know your job is unpredictable and you could leave at any moment, but at the very least I expected you to give the person you love some sort of goodbye.

Don’t contact me, Simon. Don’t call, text, or even email me or my family. It’s not an easy decision for me, but I can’t do this to myself or you anymore. It hurts to write this, I can’t even blink without tears falling, I’m fucking heartbroken and disappointed in you. I love you Simon, that will never change, but sometimes you have to let the things you love go.

I’m letting you go, Simon. I am setting you free from this burden and the next. I’ll always love you, nothing will ever change the way I feel about you. Take care of yourself.

Y/N

Simon couldn’t breathe, his heart was going a million miles a minute. His head pounded, an ache nothing could satiate. He traced the tears stained along the note, many letters and words smudged with your long dried tears. The air remained thick as Simon looked around his now wrecked apartment. He kept looking at the front door just waiting for you to burst through and laugh about what a sick joke you’ve played. But you never did. His phone never lit up with your face, the house uncomfortably silent without your laughter.

Simon knew you didn’t want to hear from him, he wouldn’t go against your wishes. But when he picked up his phone he couldn’t help but hover over your contact. He cracked a pained smile before tears streamed once more.

Lovie <3

Three months into the relationship, you’d made a fuss about him just having your name as your contact. You snatched his phone from him and changed your name along with a picture you had sent him. It quickly became one of Simon’s favorites.

Now it broke him. He’d never get to see those eyes and that bright smile ever again, he’d never get to breathe you in when you woke up early to cook him breakfast. He never realized how much he took for granted until now. He wanted you, only you. He understood but, damn, was he hurting bad this time.

Suddenly, his phone lit up. His breath hitched, anticipating seeing your name glow bright. But it wasn’t you, it was Price. Simon was in no condition to answer, he couldn’t bring himself to croak out a word. But he didn’t know what else to do or who else to talk to since the one person he wants isn’t here anymore.

“Hello?” Simon cringed at just how awful he sounded. His throat was raw from the screaming and his nose stuffy from the hours of crying. Time was just passing, he hadn’t realized how long he’d been losing it.

“Simon? What’s wrong?” John could tell immediately that his right hand man wasn’t okay. His usual neutral tone was broken.

“She..” Simon trailed off, his voice cracking. He couldn’t get himself to say it, it felt all too wrong coming out of his mouth. “S-she’s gone, John.”

Two years later

The heavy music thumped through the large club, flashing lights and light smoke flooded the atmosphere. Sweaty bodies pushed against Simon as he made his way through the packed room to get to the bar.

“Here, take this and lose the stick in your ass.” Soap forced a shot into Simon’s hand. “We’re here to have fun, stop brooding.”

Simon grumbled a ‘piss off’, pulled his disposable mask up just enough to tip the glass back, letting the bitter liquid burn his throat. “Another.” Simon set the shot glass down, beckoning for another shot with his fingers.

“There’s the Simon we know and love!” John cheered, handing Simon another shot. After another two shots, Simon could feel his body physically loosen and his mind haze slightly. You plagued his thoughts constantly, even after two years since you left. He was rarely sighted outside of his home, only seen with a scowl and a hard glare. Johnny had to literally threaten the poor guy with setting his masks on fire to get him out.

“We really are glad you came, Simon.” Kyle placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “We’ve missed you, mate.”

“Don’t get used to it, this is just to get you lot off my back.” Simon shrugged Kyle’s hand off his shoulder and looked away to the dance floor. There were many people out tonight. Grinding against one another, letting their inhibitions down and touches linger. It’s not that Simon didn’t want to have fun, he just didn’t know how to anymore. He was almost ashamed to be somewhat of a hermit now, but he just didn’t want to have fun without you. He knows he should just let it go, let himself be happy, but he just couldn’t let himself. The world was duller and his attitude was worse than it’s ever been. One wrong move from a patron and he was smashing a face in tonight.

That’s when, in the midst of the crowd, something caught his eye: you. Simon’s heart stuttered and his body went rigid. You were dancing with another girl, presumably your friend, and a giant smile plastered on your lips. You were glowing, hips swaying to the house music and hair wild. It was almost as if the world stopped as Simon zoned in completely on you. Two years. He hadn’t seen or heard from you in two years and here you were in the flesh.

“Earth to Simon.” Soap waved a hand in Simon’s face, trying his best to capture his attention. “What’s your problem, what are you-” Soap followed his gaze until they landed on you, realizing what was going on.

“Well, ain’t that some shit.” Soap breathed out, nudging John and Kyle before pointing to where you were. Simon’s eyes never moved from you, feeling as if one glance away and you vanish into thin air. You threw your head back, laughter rippling through you at something your friend said. His heart was beating out of his chest and his whole body shook with a mix of emotions. Everything shattered when you made eye contact with him. You jumped, doing a double take to make sure your mind wasn’t playing a trick on you.

It was definitely Simon Riley, even by just the sight of his hardened eyes. Your eyes turned the size of saucers and your dancing slowed. You’d assumed the man would’ve moved away or piled himself in his work as he always had, you never expected to be in the same vicinity of the man your heart still yearned for. You looked to your friend, a small broken smile on your lips as you excused yourself to freshen up. Your feet couldn’t move fast enough to the door leading outside, you felt like you were suffocating. Tears blurred your vision as you finally made it out, your skin pebbling with the cool air.

“Y/N?” Your body froze and shook at the same time, hearing your name fall from the lips of the man you once loved with your entire being. You slowly turned to face Simon as a few tears slipped from your eyes. He wasn’t wearing his usual skull mask tonight, something that would’ve prevented him from getting into the club. His blonde hair was a bit longer from the last time you’d seen him, curls starting to form around his harsh face. But his expression was anything but harsh at this moment, he looked broken.

Because he was.

He was standing across from the woman who shredded his heart and set the remains on fire. He could feel tears brimming his eyes as he got a good look at you. You’d always been the most beautiful person he’d ever met, there was nothing in the world that could make it feel otherwise. Even as tears smeared your makeup and sweat dotted your forehead.

“Simon.” Your voice broke, his name sounding foreign yet familiar tumbling out of your lips. You wrapped your arms around your body to prevent him fran’s ring your notable trembling. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I- uh,” He cleared his throat from the tremble. “Soap. He forced me out with them.”

“Ah, o-okay.” You wiped a few tears from your face, sniffling. You didn’t know what to say, it felt like the wind was knocked from your lungs as you leaned against the brick wall.

“How’ve you been?” Simon asked, his deep accent invading your thoughts.

“Um, good.” You nodded, looking down at your feet. “Yeah, good.”

You heard him shuffle closer to you, his body heat radiating off him and to your bare arms. You looked up to meet his dark irises, untamed emotion swimming in them. You’d always love his brown eyes, it made him more human no matter how sharp he intended them to be. They were always soft around you, he didn’t want you to see the horror in his face when he looked at you.

“Y/N,” His fingers brushed your arm, goosebumps pebbling your skin at the brief contact. “I-It’s been hell.”

“Simon, I-I can’t do this right now.” You back away slowly, no matter how much you didn’t want to. You couldn’t do this to yourself again, you went through so much with him. “I left for a reason, I can’t do this with you again.”

“Y/N, please.” Simon moved closer to you once more. “Give me another chance, I need to make it up to you.”

You shook your head and scoffed slightly, looking across the busy street as a few more tears roll down your face. “I don’t think you realize how much you put me through, Simon. How many nights I lied awake, hoping, no praying, that you were still alive. That I wouldn’t be one of the unlucky few to have John show up at my door with your stuff.”

Simon didn’t say anything, he didn’t make a move to touch you, he barely even let himself breathe at this moment. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and show you how different things could be, but he knew it wasn’t the right time for that. So instead, he listened, it was the least he could do.

“No calls, no texts, hell not even a damn letter in the mail indicating you were okay. I couldn’t leave the bed most days, physically ill at the thought of losing you. I know those aren’t things you can always control, but damn it, I thought I was an exception.” You voice cracked as you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with nothing short of sorrow and regret. It hurt you to see him like this, but you want him to understand that exactly how you felt.

“I love you Si, I always have and I always will. But this isn’t just something I can jump back into and hope for the best. I did my hoping, I did my healing, I need you to do the same.” You pointed a finger at him. “You can’t bottle everything up and expect it to just stay there. You can’t hurt someone and just expect them to forgive you for all the shit you put them through. I stayed awake with you on the worst nights, nights you couldn’t even speak without flashing out or from dreams that paralyzed your whole body. I did everything for you so when you left without a world, it was a harsh smack in the face.”

The door to the club opened, out coming Simon’s three closest friends. It was nice seeing them again after so long, bittersweet memories swimming around in your mind. John looked at you softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he offered you a soft smile.

“Nice to see you again, Y/N.” Gaz nodded to you, standing beside John. “Although the circumstances could’ve definitely been better.”

You chuckled lightly, your voice breaking a bit. Simon’s eyes never left you, his eyes watery and his eyebrows pulled together in pain. You laugh had been his favorite song, cracking the dumbest jokes just to hear it even on the worst days. He wanted to be the reason for your laughter, not your tears.

“Well, I’d better get going.” You straightened up, moving to walk back into the club to retrieve your friend. “It was nice seeing you boys.” You smiled, your eyes lingering on Simon’s just a bit longer than necessary.

He watched you walk away, didn’t make a move to stop you because he knew you wouldn’t want that. You’re a head strong woman: when you set your mind to something, no one can stop you. His throat burned as he finally let out the sob stuck in his chest. He buried his face in his palms, letting go of all the emotions he had held back as you talked. Soap was the first to bring Simon in for a hug, holding his as tight as he could as his best mate cried on his shoulder.

“S’alright, Si.” He patted Simon’s back. “Let’s get you home, ‘m sure you’ve had enough for the night.”

They walked back to Simon’s place, a deafening silence cast over the four. No one dared say anything just in case Simon was ready to crack. They bid their farewells as they made it to his porch, not before making sure Simon was going to be okay being alone tonight.

Simon didn’t get much sleep that night, his brain wouldn't let him forget anything that had just happened. It was lovely seeing you again, even if it hurt and tore a wound right back open again. It made Simon realize that he really did need to work through a lot, it wasn’t doing him much good anymore just ignoring everything. If he wanted to see you again and prove to you that things would be different, he needed that change.

[sab0dssey]

Dad! Price + pregnant! reader

John Price wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But lately, he’d caught his son watching him with that quiet, studious expression that five year olds wore when they were trying to understand something big.

It started small. A look, a tilt of the head when John helped you ease onto the couch, one hand steady at your back, the other adjusting the pillows just right. Then came the little imitations—a small hand pressed to your knee when you sighed, a too-big glass of water pushed into your hands before you even asked for it.

Yeah. The boy was watching.

John saw it in the way his son trailed after him, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was trying to map out the rhythm of care he has always provided for you.

He didn’t just follow orders; he anticipated. When John pulled out a chair for you, the boy did the same at breakfast the next morning, brows drawn in concentration as he dragged the heavy thing across the floor. When John pressed a hand to your lower back in passing, the kid reached up later, tiny palm resting there for half a second before scampering off, satisfied with a smile that he made his mother feel comfortable.

And when you winced one evening, shifting uncomfortably, it was your son who slipped off the couch without a word, returning a minute later with one of your small heating pads from the bathroom. He set it down beside you, nudging it toward your hand before looking up expectantly.

John, sitting across from you, just huffed a quiet laugh.

Smart boy.

He didn’t tell him to do any of this. Didn’t have to.

The kid was simply learning straight from him. Picking up on the way his father moved around his mother, how he noticed things before you had to say them, how care wasn’t in grand gestures but in the easy, natural rhythm of love.

John caught his son’s eye, tilting his head just slightly. The boy straightened a little, waiting.

Good lad, he thought, with a small nod of approval.

He was going to turn out just fine.

[sab0dssey]

Being John’s little wife was the best thing that ever happened to you. John is ten years older than you. He’s big, broad-shouldered, every move he makes shaped by military discipline. But when it comes to you… everything softens. His voice, his touch everything about him turns gentle. You are his everything, and he never lets you forget it.

For example, he always wakes up before you, slipping out of bed quietly to make your coffee. He prepares it exactly the way you like, just the right amount of sugar, the perfect splash of milk. Then, he brings it to you while you’re still half-asleep, hair messy, eyes barely open. He just smiles, handing you the cup. “Morning, little lady,” he murmurs, his voice warm and drowsy.

If you’re busy during the day, he never disturbs you but he never really leaves, either. He lingers close, a quiet, steady presence. Sometimes, he brushes his fingers over your shoulder, presses a quick kiss to your temple. If you’re reading, he rests his head on your lap, just to be near you.

When you go out together, he’s always protective. His hand stays on your waist, guiding you through crowds, making sure no one bumps into you. If he spots a small chocolate he knows you love, he buys it without a word and slips it into your bag. “Saw this and thought of you,” he says simply, but the warmth in his eyes makes your heart melt.

When you get home, if you’re tired, he even kneels to take off your shoes for you. “My little wife’s had a long day,” he teases, then scoops you up in his arms and drops you onto the couch. He massages your feet with those big, calloused hands of his, smirking as he says, “These tiny feet walked too much today.”

At night, if you can’t sleep, he always notices. Without a word, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m here,” he whispers in the dark. “I’ll always be here.”

And in his strong, protective arms, you feel like the safest person in the world.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Thank you for 200 followers, gonna cry ( ╥ ᴗ ╥). This is John by the way.

[sab0dssey]

Imagine accidentally walking into a military dive bar by yourself, not knowing that the customer base was mainly military folk, and just kind of rolling with it

Imagine you dressed cute, your hair was done, and it had been a long week- you deserved a good ol' night on the town, damnit, and you didn't want to pay another Uber to go to another bar

Imagine you making your way up to the bar to order your first drink of the night and when you order a simple cocktail, the bar goes quiet for a split second because who orders a cocktail in this place?

Imagine not knowing that since the second you walked in that door, you've had eyes on you. Of course you've had eyes on you since you walked in, but one pair in particular stayed glued to your form as you walked through the bar

Imagine looking around after getting your drink from the bartender to see where you'd try to sit for a bit to sip on your drink

Imagine there being an empty table near the far end of the bar that you decide to claim as your own as you continued to scope out the bar patrons

Imagine finally locking eyes with the one man that has had his eye on you since the minute you walked in the door

Imagine freezing as you look into his eyes from across the bar, suddenly aware that this huge, masked military man had been looking right at you

Imagine deciding after a second fuck it and you just gave him a smile and a small wave before sipping your drink. After all, he had been looking at you first, right?

Imagine seeing him look away briefly after your wave and you finally turn to look around the bar again, idly sipping at your drink

Imagine not even a minute later, that very same man is now standing right next to you- how the hell did he get there so fast-? And so quietly-?

Imagine the silence that ensues, neither one of you wanting to say the first word (well, it was either not wanting or not knowing what to say)

Imagine the first thing you speak to Simon 'Ghost' Riley, unknowing who he is or what his reputation was, being, "So, uh... Come here often...?"

Imagine that really being your best line for this strange man

Imagine Ghost letting out a soft grunt as he nodded, "Often enough. Never seen you here before."

Imagine you giving him another smile, this one softer and more genuine as you reply, "I didn't realize this was so... Military oriented. Am I even allowed to be here?"

Imagine hearing a small huff from the man, his eyes indiscernible as he says, "Course you're allowed. I'd like to see them try to kick a bird like you out."

Imagine giggling softly, "A bird like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Imagine all the while, Simon 'Ghost' Riley's teammates are still sitting at the bar, watching this all go down like it was a soap opera. It was, wasn't it? Their Lieutenant going out of his way to flirt with the little bird who accidentally wandered into a military-centric dive and still ordered the little cocktail you liked.

ugh just imagine

masterlist

[sab0dssey]

The moon dressed as Saturn.

[sab0dssey]

still thinking about how if anyone labels reader as simon's girl, he's taking it and running with it. doesn't matter that she's never spoken a word to him, doesn't know his name or that she gives him more a grimace than a smile because he can't stop looking at his girl. he just can't believe how lucky he is you're his, is all.

[sab0dssey]

Ghost could also fit the 24/7 caretaker dom role too, but his version of caring would be a bit rougher / more abrasive. makes you take your meds and then physically checks to make sure you swallowed your pills, fingers in your mouth and under your tongue and everything.

[sab0dssey]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

That one week every month...

Simon had faced warzones, interrogations, and impossible missions—but nothing had prepared him for this.

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, glaring at the TV like it had personally offended you. A heating pad rested on your stomach, and an untouched cup of tea sat on the table. The occasional wince crossed your face, and Simon felt utterly useless.

"You alright?" he asked, standing awkwardly by the armrest.

You let out a dramatic sigh. "No."

He blinked. "Right."

He had no idea what to do. He had seen you tired, upset, even angry, but this? This was new. And honestly? It was terrifying.

"Did you eat?" he asked, shifting his weight.

"Not hungry," you muttered, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Simon hesitated, then turned on his heel and disappeared. A few minutes later, he returned, dropping something soft onto your lap. You peeked out - one of his hoodies, smelling like him, freshly warm from the dryer.

"Wear it," he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. "Might help."

You blinked up at him, surprised. "Simon…"

"And this," he added, placing a bar of chocolate on the table. "Don’t argue."

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the discomfort. He sat beside you, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly unsure of himself. After a long pause, he pulled you against his chest, adjusting until you were resting comfortably against him.

"Better?" he asked, voice quieter now.

You sighed, relaxing into his warmth. "Yeah."

His fingers absentmindedly traced over your arm, his other hand gently rubbing circles on your lower back. You could tell he was still unsure, still navigating this whole relationship thing - but he was trying.

And honestly? That meant everything.

[sab0dssey]

thinking about a scenario with telepath!reader where you're in the hospital after almost losing your life, and you're just starting to wake up.

despite the sharp eruptions of pain that bang around your head, you're able to see patches of ghost's thoughts. you can piece together images of your unconscious body in his arms—the black handle of a combat knife sticking out of your torso; a hand clutching your face with a bruising force. the words that follow sound muffled, but you're aware of them all the same.

she'll be okay. she'll be okay. she'll be okay.

you should've been there. should've fuckin' yanked 'er out. she could've been fine.

bet she won't be too 'appy to see your ugly mug. fuckin' genius riley, almost let 'er die and push 'er away further, christ.

the soft, raspy beginning of a chuckle hurts like a bitch to let out, but it does well in capturing his attention. he looks like he hasn't slept in days, eyes wide and bloodshot when he looks up to you. it's when you attempt to reach out for something that he breaks the staring contest and huffs, firmly but carefully preventing you from tearing out your stitches.

"stay down," he snaps, voice rough, as he cautiously adjusts the pillow behind you. "don't move."

thank fuck you're awake.

"thirsty," you manage to grumble, and he wordlessly uncaps a bottle of water before bringing it to your lips, his hand gently slipping behind your head to steady you while you sip.

you're good, you're solid. you're gonna be fine.

you settle back down when you've had enough, head pounding and eyes heavy with exhaustion. his hand rests on your forearm, and you curl your fingers until he slots them against his in a tight grip. there's not much to be said, not yet anyway, but as sleep begins to take you under, you can faintly grasp the last thing you hear him think.

m'not lettin' you go again, bird. i promise.

[sab0dssey]

"I walked on your footsteps, it put me through a lot, I fell and I failed numerous times, I got injured and I got hurt. I got the scar on my face too and finally, I found you."

"Didn't know the journey will put me through hell, but I lived what you lived through."

"I couldn't, lose you."

"I chose this life to get my way to you. I knew if I didn't chose this path, I would never find you."

"I wanted to live through your pain, see the world you saw everyday, see the world through your eyes, live through wars and in the end get scarred on my face. Finally, we are One."

"Finally we are not different, finally..."

Ghost: "One"

Pic credits: @skylovesducks

[sab0dssey]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

It's your birthday

You should have been happy today. Your friends and family had gathered to celebrate your birthday, there were smiles, laughter, and a cake with your name on it. But no matter how much you tried to enjoy the moment, there was an ache in your chest, a shadow lingering at the back of your mind.

Simon wasn’t here.

You knew he had a mission. You knew his work wasn’t something he could just walk away from, even for your birthday. But that didn’t make the empty space beside you feel any less cold.

Throughout the day, you kept checking your phone, hoping for a message—something. But the screen stayed dark, and with every passing hour, the heaviness in your heart grew.

By the time you said your goodbyes and stepped into your empty home, exhaustion and disappointment weighed you down. You dropped your keys on the table with a sigh, kicking off your shoes, ready to just crawl into bed and forget this day even happened.

But then you noticed something.

The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft glow flickering from the living room. Your heart skipped a beat as you took slow steps forward, eyes widening at the sight before you.

Candles. A bottle of wine. And on the coffee table—a small black box with a note resting on top.

Your hands trembled as you picked up the folded paper, recognizing Simon’s handwriting instantly.

"Happy Birthday, love. Sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with you. But turn around—I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Your breath caught as you turned sharply—only to be met with the sight of Simon, standing in the doorway, his gear still on, his mask pulled up just enough to show the smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

For a second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The weight of the day, the longing, the disappointment—it all melted away in an instant.

And then you were in his arms.

Simon caught you with ease, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest. His scent, his warmth, the solid feel of him—it was all so overwhelming that you barely noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

“You came home,” you whispered against his shoulder, gripping onto him like he might disappear.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss your birthday,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Had to pull a few strings, but I’m here now.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “Best birthday present ever.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with something deeper, something possessive. “That’s not your present, love.”

Your breath hitched as he reached for the small box on the table, pressing it into your hands.

“Open it.”

With shaky fingers, you lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace—a small charm in the shape of a skull hanging from the chain.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your heart pounding. “Simon…”

“It’s mine,” he murmured, taking the necklace from the box and moving behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck. “So even when I’m not here, you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they were from something warm, something overwhelming.

You turned back to him, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss. Simon groaned against your lips, his arms tightening around you, as if he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“You gonna cry, love?” he teased against your mouth, his voice rough, amused.

You sniffled, laughing softly. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips over yours again. “Good. Means I did something right.”

And as he led you to the couch, pulling you into his lap, you knew that no matter how far away he had been, no matter how long the distance—Simon Riley would always find his way back to you.

[sab0dssey]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

His scars

The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. The world outside feels far away, muffled by the late hour. You’re lying beside Simon, your body warm against his, tangled beneath the covers. It’s one of those rare nights when neither of you are in a rush—no missions, no early alarms, just the quiet hum of each other’s presence.

Your head rests against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm is draped lazily around your waist, holding you close, but there’s a relaxed ease in his grip. He’s not wearing a shirt, and your fingers trace absentmindedly along his skin, following the contours of his body. Your fingertips find the rough ridges of a scar, then another.

You hesitate for a second, feeling the jagged texture beneath your touch. Some of them are old, faded into pale lines against his skin, while others are more recent, harsher reminders of the life he leads. Your fingers ghost over one across his ribs, then move higher, tracing the rough edge of another along his shoulder.

Simon doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He just lies there, silent, letting you explore him in a way few ever have. His breathing stays steady, but there’s something heavier in the air now, an unspoken understanding.

“This one…” you murmur, your fingertips brushing over a long scar that runs along his bicep. “Where did it come from?”

There’s a pause. A long one. You don’t push- Simon doesn’t always talk about these things, and you’ve learned to let him choose when and how much he wants to share.

After a moment, he exhales slowly. “Knife wound,” he says, his voice quiet, low. “Close combat. He got me first, but I got him worse.”

You nod slightly, not asking for more, just letting the weight of his words settle. Your fingers trail lower, following another scar along his side, thinner but deeper-looking.

“This one?” you ask softly.

Simon shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting his arm behind his head. “Shrapnel,” he answers simply. “IED went off too close. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Your heart clenches slightly, imagining the pain, the danger, the constant risk he’s lived with. But you don’t let the sadness show. You just keep tracing, memorizing every piece of him, every mark that tells a story.

Then, your fingers find one at his lower abdomen, near his hip. It’s smaller, but deep. You pause, glancing up at him. “And this one?”

Simon huffs a quiet laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “That one’s stupid,” he admits. “Got careless on a mission. Took a bullet, but it went clean through.” He shifts, looking down at you. “Nothing serious.”

You look up at him then, meeting his gaze. His eyes are unreadable, but there’s something softer beneath the surface, something unspoken. You know he’s seen and endured more than he’ll ever say. And yet, here he is, letting you see parts of him that no one else does.

Your fingers brush over one last scar - a faint, thin one just above his heart. It’s old, faded, but something about it feels different. You don’t ask. You just rest your palm against it, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

Simon watches you for a moment, then reaches up, placing his much larger hand over yours. His fingers curl around yours, holding your hand against his chest.

“Don’t need you worrying about them,” he murmurs.

“I don’t,” you whisper back. “I just want to know you.”

There’s silence again, but this time, it’s comfortable. His grip on your hand tightens slightly before he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

“You already do,” he says quietly.

And that’s enough.

[sab0dssey]

Simon Riley wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes. And right now, those actions consisted of him sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, arms resting on his thighs, watching you like a man utterly engrossed in the most intense thriller of his life. His sharp, brown eyes followed every single one of your movements with laser focus—so much so that you had to stop and arch a brow at him through the mirror.

“You’re staring,” you mused, dragging a cotton pad soaked in toner across your skin.

Simon didn’t even blink. “Yeah.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

A slow shrug. “You do this every night, and it still feels like watchin’ a bloody mission unfold.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his dramatics. “It’s just skincare, Si.”

“To you,” he countered, tilting his head as you reached for your serum. “To me? It’s an operation. You’ve got phases, precise steps, different solutions. Looks like chemical warfare.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Simon, this big, lethal man, who faced warzones and threats on a daily basis, was utterly captivated by something as mundane as your skincare routine. He never complained—not once. In fact, you were convinced he could sit there for hours if given the chance.

As you dropped a few dots of serum onto your cheeks, his fingers twitched. You caught it immediately. “You wanna do it?”

He exhaled through his nose, pretending to contemplate, but the answer was obvious. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, holding out the dropper. “Be gentle.”

His bare hand wrapped around the bottle as he squeezed out a tiny amount. His touch was surprisingly delicate as he smoothed the serum over your skin with slow, deliberate motions.

“There,” he murmured, voice low, like he had just completed something of grave importance. “Good?”

You hummed, leaning into his touch. “Perfect.”

Simon nodded, satisfied, before leaning back to watch the rest of your routine unfold. His girl, in her element. Nothing in the world could pull him away from this.

The door slammed open—well, as much as it could with Simon catching it at the last second, his reflexes kicking in. You stumbled in, barely managing to toe off your heels, giggling at absolutely nothing. The room swayed around you, the effects of one too many drinks wrapping around your mind like a thick haze.

Simon, ever the patient man, just sighed. “You’re pissed.”

You blinked up at him, your pupils blown wide. “M’not.”

“You are.” He exhaled sharply, stepping forward just as your knees buckled. One strong arm wrapped around your waist before you could faceplant onto the floor. “Alright, c’mon, love. Let’s get you sorted.”

You melted against him, cheek pressing against the hard planes of his chest. “You smell good,” you murmured, voice muffled.

Simon huffed out a small chuckle. “Yeah, yeah.”

He guided you toward the bed, setting you down with an ease that made you feel weightless. As soon as your body hit the mattress, exhaustion washed over you in waves, your limbs heavy, your mind sluggish. But just as you were about to succumb to sleep, Simon’s voice cut through the haze.

“You gotta clean your face first.”

You whined, attempting to burrow into the pillows. “Don’t wanna.”

“Doesn’t matter.” There was no room for argument in his tone, but there was something else there too—something soft, something… fond.

Through half-lidded eyes, you watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the space. When he returned, he had a small cotton pad in one hand and your bottle of micellar water in the other. Your sluggish brain could barely comprehend what was happening as he crouched in front of you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he cupped your jaw.

“Hold still,” he murmured, voice low, as if afraid to startle you.

You hummed, too dazed to do anything but comply. With careful precision—like he was handling something fragile—he pressed the damp cotton pad against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your foundation. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was performing some sort of sacred ritual.

The cool sensation against your skin was oddly soothing, and you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Simon shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Didn’t think I’d be doin’ this, but here we are.

You smiled sleepily. “Taught you well, huh?”

“That you did.” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone before he continued, working his way down to your chin, your forehead, even swiping a fresh pad over your lips with the utmost care.

When he reached your eyes, he hesitated. “Close ‘em for me, love.”

You did as he asked, feeling the gentle sweep of the cotton against your lids, ridding them of mascara and eyeliner. His touch never faltered, never rushed.

By the time he was done, your skin felt fresh, clean, and your body… impossibly heavy. Sleep tugged at you, lulling you into a warm, blissful state.

Simon sighed, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Alright, bed.”

You barely registered the blankets being pulled over you, barely noticed the way he lingered for just a moment longer, watching over you like a silent guardian.

But just before sleep fully claimed you, you mumbled, “Love you, Si.”

A beat of silence. Then, a quiet, barely-there response.

“Love you too, sweetheart…”