#cheating ghoap

[brainr0t-landfill]

Lemonade

Simon Riley x Reader/Ghoap/John Mactavish x Reader

t.w:cheating, this is an unedited wip I'm just posting it to get it off my notes app idk what happens in this, rough for play(?)

"the next time he kisses me, want him to taste red ruby lips"-Lemonade, Nicole Dollangager

There's lemonade with a small shot of vodka mixing around in it on the kitchen table, spotted by sunlight, your thumb and pointer finger holding a cigarette to your lips, you don't breath it in, you don't pour yourself a glass you don't make a show of hiding your wedding ring or dabing at your wet eyes maybe if you stay still for long enough you'll finnaly figure out what to do, how to feel expect torn.

You've been married to John for five years.

He's everything anyone ever wants, he's good, he's handsome, he's got a stable job, he loves you.

You wolf whistle and tap your cigarette into an empty plastic sauce container he's smiling, watching every move you make like you grind up sparks with each motion.

"Just the full on package aren't you John? Making me feel bad here, pining you down and all."

He laughs and leans into you blue eyes sparkling like sea at summer, like a blessing. He kisses your cheek then rubs his nose against yours.

"Well I do smoke, if ye wanna count that, probably gon' make the house smell awfull."

You shrug, it comes easy with him to brush things off, to feel lighter than air.

"Could quit together?"

You offer laughter ,already bubbling in your throat he holds his lips to yours not quite kissing but still touching, eyes closed hands on your waist.

"Could always try."

The door is knocked, you flinch as you jump up scrambling forward, hands shaking, teeth chattering quietly like some druggie feeling the needle prick their arm, medical metal shinning under streetlights.

"Long time no see luv."

He's at the edge of the threshold , dead eyes fixed on you, balaclava covering his face. He's almost as broad as the doorframe, thick arms crossed over his chest, blond eyelashes dappled around the eyes focused solely on you for the next few hours; you've made yourself blind to it all.

"Saw you at the pub with Johnny just last week Ghost."

He smirks; you've thought yourself to tell by the way his eyes crinkle, thin like a snakes'. Either because that's not the sort of seeing he's talking about or because he's still proud you saw the bright purple hickey on John's neck when he came back from the bathroom, your husband's cheeks flushed like a young boy lips reddened and just the slightest bit swollen.

"Hope we didn't leave ye 'lone for long, bonnie."

You miss ignorance.

"Come in."

"Been waitin' for me luv?"

Does Johnny? You bite your tounge.

"Don't flatter yourself Riley."

He chuckles, leans down to kiss your cheek, mask rubbing against your skin, muffled breath hot and moist.

"I'm seein' just why Johnny comes over to me lookin' for some lovin', ya sure as shit ain't givin' him scraps little minx"

"And you're here because?"

You snap back pouring him a glass with shaking hands your wedding ring is still on, no reason to take it off.

He shrugs, wide shoulders, sharp jaw, empty eyes. You wonder if he has a bird waiting at home; you wonder how easy they'd be.

"Call it excitement I guess, the hot kind."

You hate it, you hate how neither man on your life can name one reason as to why they love you, why they keep you around.

You're laying in bed with John his tuxedo unbuttoned; tanned, scarred chest exposed his dogtags glittering like gold with the small rays of moonlight sneaking in through the curtains. He's waxed, smells like too much cologne and dry cleaned clothes, alcohol he's holding one of your hands rubbing at the knuckles, swiping over the thick gold band over and over again.

"You must have a reason Johnny, c'mon."

"I love ye bonnie, everything about ye, cannea even begin to dissect it."

You sigh, chapped lips stinging as you snuggle into him, his eyes watching you like you're the best damn thing's that ever happened to him.

The very next day you two have Ghost over in your new home. 

You nod as you push his glass towards him, he hooks a thick arm around your waist and pulls you back onto his lap. İt's awkward, the chairs too small ,he's too big, you're squirming too much, the room is too hot, he's cold, you're flaring up.

You turn around and yank his mask up plastering your hot mouth over his, eyes shut, he groans, grinds his crotch against yours, his hot hard cock nudging against where you're raw and needy.

"Fuck- feelin bit jealous babe? Over who huh?"

İt started a year ago, or at least you noticed it a year ago. Someone else's perfume on Johnny's collar, late nights, bad excuses, always too tired, always too distant than too smothering. You checked his phone, sometimes you wished you hadn't, sometimes you wish you had kept your safe sunbathed home, your image of the perfect husband alive, even if it was on live support.

"No one, fuck both of you-"

"N ya ask why I keep comin back, pretty fuckin baby."

You growl in his ear, nipping at his earlobe clawing at his tight shirt before he pulls back takes it off, he chest is painted blue and purple,  you wrap a hand around his neck and squeeze smashing your mouth over his, teeth knocking.

He wheezes and laughs, broad cold hands smoothing over your back, slick with sweat and presses you tighter against him.

Johnny had introduced you to Simon almost as soon as the two of you started dating he wanted the two of you to get along so so badly that you should've suspected something the momen he had told you again and again in the  car.

"Please, please no gradirh, please just try n get along with him yeah? Simon's real important tae me, easier for everyone involved."

You should've known by the way his eyes lit up, the way he worded his sentences, the way he seemed to wait on each and every word Simon uttered. You knew Simon was a big shot, somewhat of a cherished celebrity amongst his own scene, he just had that look about him like a stuffed head on the mantle sneering down, flames from the fireplace reflected in dark eyes.

You pull back, bottom lips busted, you swipe a thumb over it and sneer. Picking at the wound

"He kiss ya like that?"

You regret it the moment you ask it, you don't wanna know, you don't wanna compare or analyse like you used to, you don't wanna hurt like that again.

He shakes his head, pale skin flushed and clammy,his smile so genuine and natural it makes you sick.

"Nah, he's actually quite gentle."

You grind harder, hipbone knocking against firm muscle, knees against the back of the chair, a sticky layer of ice and acid where your skin makes contact with his.

You didn't like Ghost much. He was off colored, disorienting. His footsteps weredead silent, his colors bleeding into the colors of the background, his smile too sharp you could never bring yourself to like him as anything beyond an aquiantince and the guy your husband adores for some reason, in turn he revealed in stepping on your tail, making you walked around eggshells so John could keep up that blinding smile.

No matter how many times John pushed you two into spending alone time or hanging out as a trio it never worked, the I've ever broke.

Untill you called Simon up yourself.

"He soft with you?"

You sneer.

"None of your business."

"He's my buddy of years, my sergeant n all, and since im the honourary member of this cozy little marriage pretty sure I'm entitled."

You both chuckle, you're spiteful and he's amused. John never kisses you softly, he kisses you like he's apologising.

Apologizing for offering you a heart that was never his to give, for letting you follow him into this house, this bed, this love when he always had one foot out the door, one hand in Simon's pants.

Johnny always babbles about how there is a clear and concrete line between Ghost and Simon, supposedly one is his teammate, hid friend and the other is a war machine, his lieutenant.

You're not familiar with his friend nor his lieutenant yet some accumulation of them darkens your doorway, twitching, bruised eye lids and empty, dry eyes like a dying Barracuda, hands showed into pockets, clothes crinkled. 

You pace around the room, hands gesturing wildily.

"You and Johnny?! You and my fucking husband?! I- I- how? Why? Why would you-"

He stands there leaning against the door and watching you like a zoogoes watches the animals pace around in their cages, idle yet invested, calm.

"I didn't cheat on ya luv, he did, feels like something you should talk out with him."

"How could he?! How could-"

You choke on your sobs laughter and misery bubbling up your throat at the same time as you look at him.

"How could you?"

He averts his eyes, staring out the window. Betrayal from him stings just as bad as betrayal from John if not worse.

"Couldn't help myself luv"

"Seriously? That's your best fucking excuse Riley?"

He winces searching around the living room, his eyes skimming over the half empty vodka bottle and the shattered vase John's favourite suite laying shredded on the ground.

"Not an excuse, luv-"

You scoff, walking over to pour yourself another glass.

"Yeah, yeah sure isn't cause y'all all about taking accountability, right? All about owning up and responsibility n all that shite"

"Ya knew it would happen"

He walks over, you count his heavy footsteps approaching.

"Ya knew what would happen, you knew what I thought of him, of us and you must've had a clue or two about what he thought too. You knew, luv."

"I did, didn't I?"

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his gloves are off, his rough, calloused hand warming through your cardigan.

"Don't blame ya, can be quite the charmer that one. All baby blues n sunshine."

You scoff, the glass fills slowly.

"Did you?"

You ask as you offer him the glass of vodka the stillness of your own voice surprises you and somewhere deep down you knew this was a possibility, a big possibility. You watch his Adams apple bob as he takes a sip of the glass, wipes jis mouth with the edge of yhe mask.

"Was hoping."

You don't ask him what he was hoping for, you lean forward and press your lips to his, you tease the wine of his lips this close he smells of tobacco.

And you can't blame him, can't blame him for wanting to be in his light, his warm, lively light.

You trail a hand up his back and curl your hands around the back of his neck grazing his lips with your teeth, he puts his hands on your hips holds you close as he kisses you his breath hot on your skin.

masterlist here

[anaburbononburbon]

Nobody’s perfect…

Part 1, Part 2

Trigger warnings: infidelity, suicidal ideation/thoughts, cursing, very angst. This is a dead dove, so please do not eat. 18+. MDNI.

Johnny was perfect…and with your hindsight now, you should have realized that it was an issue.

Nobody is perfect.

But your last relationship was filled with fighting, with fists, with cheating and a one way ticket to the clinic to clear up chlamydia. It was terrible, awful, no good and you swore off love for good.

Except for Johnny. The bastard snuck in to your heart and gladly made a home in you. And you allowed it. Flourished under it. He was thoughtful, would remember your favorite movies, your most played songs, the authors you gushed about once and suddenly, books would pile up in your home from his generosity. Flowers would be delivered when he was deployed and he would always try to call you when he could.

Even his team was wonderful. The captain who would invite you to drinks and encourage you to play darts with them all. The too-good-looking sergeant with his sharp smile, deep laugh and eyes that gleamed a little too much. But he was thoughtful. Would pull out your chair. Would laugh at Johnny with you as he tried, and failed, to beat his CO’s in an arm wrestling match. Hell, you even got along with his scary Lieutenant. There was a mutual understanding, a connection between you both that remained unspoken. He didn’t talk. You didn’t push. And slowly, he would get you your favorite drink or help you bring home a too drunk Johnny. He’d gently ask you if there was anything you needed from the store, from him. He was there in his own way, and it was perfect for you.

But things aren’t perfect. Not in real life.

You wish you could say that this was a shock. That it was surprising. You never saw this coming.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself. Not anymore.

You knew Johnny was a man whore before you got together. He was very clear about his previous escapades, without rubbing it in. He enjoyed sex, touch, intimacy. You did too, but maybe not quite like Johnny. But he never acted like it mattered. You still had sex together, and as often as you could. You were very upfront about your past and how certain things were a ‘no’ from you, and he said he understood.

Johnny was a fucking liar.

Johnny was a goddamn, no good, piece of shit liar.

You could hear it all from the living room. Your living room. The house you paid for, the house he moved into a few months back. His grunts. Her moans. A low chuckle that, of course, belonged to Ghost.

They had always been close, but you didn’t think that this was the case. You didn’t think…

Johnny brought up a threesome a few times, but you’d remained nervous. You thought he understood. You thought he’d be okay with not…

You were never good enough.

The voice from your ex made its debut back into your head, now followed by Johnny claiming loudly he was going to cum, and the unknown woman begging for him to cum inside her. Ghosts grunts.

God, you were going to be sick.

All in your bed.

Because who would respect you? You were nothing. You were less than nothing. You were pathetic.

Just something to be played with while everyone laughs at you.

You sat on the couch as the voices quieted down.

You were suppose to be at a book signing convention but you forgot your book, silly you.

And it’s in your room. The room you shared with Johnny. The book he got you because “he saw it and thought about you”.

Lies.

You knew it.

Just a reason to get you out of the house.

You wanted to cry.

You didn’t want to think about how many times this had happened.

You knew he was too good for you, too pretty, too outgoing. You weren’t a right fit and now it’s rubbed in.

You were going to cry.

Shuffles from the room, laughs and a slap echoed.

“I had a really, really good time.” She giggles. Bile raises up in your throat. You hate Johnny so fucking much. You hate him. How could he do this to you?

You just wanted Johnny to come home, tell you it was a dream and he would never do that to you.

“Me too, lass. Now, get ye goin’ and we’ll see ye back on base.” You wanted to get sick, you wanted to scream. You wanted to murder her and kill Johnny and blame Ghost for it all.

But you wouldn’t. You were pathetic.

You were nothing.

Minutes later, an unknown soldier stumbles in your living room and gasps at you.

“Oh, hey.” She had the decency to look guilty but it didn’t matter.

She looked nothing like you. She was taller, prettier, perkier, and she knew Johnny like you could never.

“I’m going to go.” You refused to say anything. You stared at her as she sheepishly walked out of your house. With your Johnnys cum dripping out of her.

Not yours, anymore.

God, you wanted to die.

The humiliation. The betrayal. Her moaning wouldn’t stop playing in your head over and over and over and over-

The next person who left the room was Ghost, and he of course, silently stared at you. Locked into place, taken off guard. You would be proud of yourself if it wasn’t because he was fucking another person with your boyfriend-

Ex boyfriend.

You were done with Johnny. You couldn’t allow him back.

And maybe Johnny had been done with you and never told you.

It all made your heart hurt and head pound.

“Johnny, get out here now.” Ghost called out sharply, refusing to drop your gaze. You didn’t cry. You didn’t move. You didn’t say a word. You just silently stared at him and took him for what he was: a liar. A theft. A murderer to your heart, your mind, your very soul.

How many times did they do this to you? How many times were you laughed at by his LT? By the entire team?

Fuck. You knew this wasn’t a one time deal and god, it ate you up inside.

“Aye know, aye know. Running late, Cap will have our-” Johnny came out, hair messy and skin glossy with sweat and whatever else fluids there may be. His eyes found yours and he immediately shut his mouth.

A first.

A beat of silence filled the air before a loud gulp came from the deceiver, the betrayer. The person who held you and told you over and over again that he would never hurt you like you’d be hurt, that he cared for you, that he loved-

“You need to get your things and move out.”

You thought maybe you would start screaming, start crying, start throwing things, but you couldn’t. Your arms were too heavy. Stomach too queasy, and you didn’t have to strength.

You didn’t want to fight.

You just wanted to die.

You thought he cared about you but he lied. He lied. He lied-

“Bonnie, aye-”

You quickly interrupted.

“I don’t care Johnny. I don’t care about anything you have to say. I don’t care about you. I want you, I want your shit and I want it out of my house. I want it out of my life. You’re going to delete my number. You’re going to act like we were never together, because that would be the most nice thing you could do to me.” Anger finally filled the empty void inside of you. Anger at his betrayal. At his disloyalty. At yourself for believing him in the first place.

“Listen-” This time Ghost tried to butt in, but you refused.

“Help him or don’t. I don’t give a fuck. You have an hour or else you’re trespassing.”

“No no no no no, bonnie, love, please no.” Johnny cried, stumbling and trying to move closer to you but Ghosts hand found his chest and kept him there. He hit his knees, actual tears falling from his beautiful eyes.

Your lip curled up as you stared at him. More anger, more disgust rolled through you.

“Someone’s cum is dripping down your chin, Johnny.” You sneered, and a sharp laugh at his expense when he quickly wiped his chin and found there to be nothing.

His face turned red and you found yourself shaking your head. You dropped his gaze and stared at the black screen of your tv. Grief warped through you. Your life with him was over. It was done. It was severed, and he didn’t want you anymore.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Please, let me explain.” Again, you laughed.

“Explain how good it felt coming inside of her? In my bed? In my house? Or having your Lieutenant goad you both? I hope it was all worth it, Johnny. I hope…I just cant believe you. I cant, I cant. I cant.” And suddenly, in an instance, you broke. You sobbed. Fat tears rolled down your face and snot clogged up your nose. Your heart stuffed itself in your throat and you knew your life was over.

You were ugly.

You were pathetic.

You were nothing.

You found yourself curled up, sitting on the floor, your chest breaking down in itself and you couldn’t breath.

“Please-” Johnny tried. Johnny reached for you and you screamed.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me! I hate you, Johnny! I hate you, I hate you ihateyouihateyouifuckinghateyou!” You could hear Johnny crying with you, but it meant nothing.

Your entire time together meant nothing.

He lied to you.

He cheated on you.

He broke you.

He was the love of your life, and he hated you.

He hated you.

“Johnny, come on.” Ghost got him up, and moved him back in the bedroom. You didn’t care why or what for. You hoped it was to start getting his stuff and start moving out.

You needed him gone. You needed him away. You needed him-

———————————————————————

You barely had yourself under control when they got out of your bedroom. Suitcases were full and laundry was going.

Considerate. Considering…

Ghost moved everything. And quickly. Bags and bags he had in his hands as he trucked them outside. He moved Johnny out and you refused to look at them. You only stared at their feet as they walked, without a word, out of your life.

You sat there as the door closed and the vehicle pulled away from your place.

You were alone, finally.

And you just wanted to die.

———————————————————————

Part 1, Part 2

I have no idea where this came from. I’m suppose to be working. I must be in the fun place in my cycle 🙃 angst all around! Take care of yourselves and don’t let anyone make you feel this way!!! You are beautiful and worth it.

[jazmeanb]

Uploading the WIP. Special thanks to @ave661 for their renders. I owe you my life (✿◦’ᴗ˘◦)♡

[bi-writes]

okay...what about surprise pregnancy but you aren't sure whose it is? (18+, ghoap x f!reader babytrap)

you come crying to simon, so embarrassed when you see johnny there, too. they coax you to sit down, standing side by side, and you explain through sputters and soft tears that you're pregnant, and you're so sorry, you're even more sorry because you're not sure if it's johnny's baby or simon's baby.

you didn't cheat, you never put labels on anything, you thought you were just having fun, but now they're finding out at the same time that you were sleeping around, and you were totally irresponsible--

you freeze, hiccuping when you notice that simon and johnny aren't even looking at you anymore. simon has a gloved hand in johnny's hair, wrapping those thick fingers into his mohawk and pulling until johnny's neck snaps back, and he's baring his throat to simon.

"mmm..." simon growls a little, and your lip trembles when simon hikes his mask up to lick over johnny's cheek before kissing him wet and sloppy. "good boy. olways doin' as y'r told..."

you squeeze your legs together when simon cups your jaw, drawing you closer. he fits a thumb into your mouth to soothe you, and johnny coos as he brushes your hair out of your eyes. it was a team effort, after all, no need to fret.

don't you know it takes two to make a baby?

[ceilidho]

sirius c

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 7; ghoap x reader) [tags: noncon, implied cheating (in the context of Ghost's refusal to be a negotiation king lol), very nsfw] masterlist

-

No one tells you what to do when you finally notice the larger animal watching you from the thicket. 

It's been awhile now, you suspect. So long that it's managed to follow you all the way home.

Now they insist on helping you around the shop while you try to work. Try being the operative word. It’s hard to get much done with Simon scaring off all the customers and Johnny dogging at your heels, practically glued to your hip. You briefly consider stabbing him with the snips but then think the better of it. Simon’s stare follows you too closely for you to think you’d get away with it. 

Plus, after this morning—you cut that thought off at the root lest embarrassment make your eyeballs burn right out of your head. Despite the fact that he never brings it up, you can’t shake the thought that Simon knows. His face is just as expressionless with the mask off, which rests like a heavy weight on the kitchen table, imbued with a meaning too potent, too loaded, for you to fully digest or, really, understand in any concrete way. 

But the glint in his flinty eyes flirts with amusement. Brushes close to it. 

“What?” you snap, eggs dangling precariously from your fork.

His stare hasn’t wavered once since sitting you across from him. He doesn’t smirk nor snicker, but you can feel the laugh like a phantom limb that aches until you try to scratch it. He has a face carved from marble or granite, subject to some horrific fate. A statue pulled down from its pedestal and hauled into the river, now dragged out waterlogged and barnacle-crusted. Something terrible happened here and now something else wears its face.

His knees knock against yours under the table again, forcing one leg to spread to accommodate him. You stare at the elbow resting on your table as he chews off the end of a strip of bacon.

He doesn’t say anything, but you know he must have heard you and Johnny in the washroom earlier in the morning. Simon hadn’t even attempted to feign sleep when you’d come out flustered and turned around, stomach in knots. 

You can’t even look at Johnny for help because he stands behind the two of you at the counter, no space for him at your small kitchen table. Your life isn’t built to accommodate two men of their size; it’s hardly able to hold space for just the one.

Nevertheless, they stretch it to fit their needs.

Begrudgingly, you have to admit that Simon does help you out around the flower shop. He fixes the door to the supply closet that always jams, hoses down the sidewalk in front of the store where someone vomited near the entryway the night before, and even gives you a couple hours alone to yourself when he drags Johnny with him to do the bouquet deliveries. 

They come back with coffee in takeaway cups and pastries in a waxy bag and you nearly moan when you notice the label on the cup. Coffee from the good coffee shop across town. You actually moan when you sink your teeth into an almond croissant and then blink your eyes open wide when you hear Johnny groan in response. 

You steel yourself to keep your knees from knocking together.

It’s been a week since you saw him last. Hard to believe. You’ve been distant, rightfully so, contemplating the state of your relationship and coaxing yourself to the brink of texting him that it’s over, only to give up at the last possible minute. The tides receding again. 

You don’t think about how much you missed him. 

Since this morning, you’ve been on edge. Half tempted to corral Johnny into your apartment upstairs for some alone time. You don’t think Simon would allow that though, whether out of some sadistic glee in seeing you squirm or out of jealousy. It doesn’t seem unlikely. He acts like Johnny is his to do with what he pleases, and Johnny beams up at him like the sun and lets him.

You hadn’t realized there had been a third person in your relationship. Now it feels like his presence has always been felt. You can’t imagine Johnny without the half-shadow cast over his face.

All day, you wait for Johnny to break. Part of you hopes that it’ll be sooner rather than later. Unless he’s been entertaining someone on the side—and, for reasons unbeknownst to you, you discount that thought the second it comes to you, sure that you’d know if there was another woman—it’s likely that he hasn’t fucked in a week. He acts like it too, hovering close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Every accidental step back comes with a chance of landing straight into his arms. 

When you touch his arm gently to ask him to help you move a heavy flower pot, he looks down at you with irises gone black, ready to fuck on a dime. It’s not the right place or time, and you’re still tremendously pissed at him for letting his superior grope you in front of their whole platoon or whatever, but you’ve also gone a week without his dick, and you’re starting to think that your pride shouldn’t get in the way of good dick.

But then he looks over at the hulking figure haunting the doorway and draws back. The shadow on your relationship again. The tension breaks. Even though he postures and flexes when he helps you move the flower pot, it doesn’t come with an invitation to sneak away to your apartment upstairs. Johnny grits his teeth and holds himself back because Simon tells him to; because, in Simon’s own words, he’s a good lad. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask Simon when Johnny goes to take a leak, but he just stares at you with eyes still darkened by poorly wiped off eye black. 

The oxygen is sucked out of the room when it’s just the two of you. He’s imposing from afar, accentuated by the innate knowledge—gleaned just from looking at him, nothing more than that, just the size of him in his line of work—that he’s the most dangerous thing around, but with no one else to hide behind, you can’t help but feel like a trapped animal. 

“Means he knows who’s in charge,” he says. 

Like that’s supposed to tell you anything. 

The air still crackles with tension when Johnny comes back. He glances around almost nervously, pupils dilating. 

“The two of ye finally gettin’ on?” he asks.

There’s a moment where you consider ripping the veil down and saying, no, we aren’t, Johnny. You quisling. You can see exactly how uncomfortable I am. It’s more than visible; it’s oozing from my pores. You’ve let a wild animal into my house and now it won’t leave. In fact, it’s pissing on my sheets to mark its territory. You let it in knowingly, and even though you know something’s wrong, you’re letting it get worse.

Simon’s smile is severe and whetted when he cuts off your train of thought. “Reckon we're getting on like a house on fire, eh?” 

You can’t muster more than a weak smile and nod in response to that.

Around mid afternoon, a regular client calls in with a large, last minute order. You accept it because it’s nothing you don’t already have in stock, but it means you have to close the shop early to work on her order and then load up the van to drive to her place to drop the flowers off.

“I’ll come with you,” Simon grunts when you flip the sign and tell the two of them about your plans.

You freeze, a shudder rippling down your spine. “That’s not necessary—I can do it myself.”

“Don’t care.”

“I do it all the time when you’re not here!”

“It’s not up for debate,” he says, eyes going hard. Daring you to argue.

You’ve been getting the sense all day that he’s been trying to corner you, trying to get you on your own. You evade his efforts like a prey animal, but all that does is make him work harder for it. 

You look to Johnny for any kind of reassurance, someone to back you up and agree that you’re more than capable since you do this all the time, but he just grins from behind the counter where he helps cut lengths of cellophane and ribbon for the bouquets. “Aye, hen, let him help. Ye cannae carry all of that yourself.”

Your brain clicks back on when you’re barrelling towards your client’s place at breakneck speed, far too fast for a residential road. It’s not you driving though. Simon has himself parked in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling loosely out the window. His driving makes your stomach churn, nausea brewing. You bone-knuckle the grab handle reflexively. 

“Could you slow down?” you hiss out through clenched teeth.

Simon ignores you until you start to scroll through your phone to distract yourself. He transfers the hand on the wheel to jostle your knee with his free hand. “Eyes on the road.”

“I’m not even driving you,” you squawk, heart thudding in your chest when his hand doesn’t lift off your knee. 

“Tell me when to turn, doll.” The pet name makes your stomach jump. When he says it, his hand tightens over your knee, thick fingers with scraped up knuckles curling around, the width of his palm wider than your kneecap and you stare down dumbly, rabbit heart careening at the same speed as the van. 

You’re so dumbfounded that you nearly miss the street. He takes the turn suddenly when you mention it instead of making the sensible call to go up the next street and then come back down, and you swear and yell when he nearly takes the van onto the right two wheels. 

The sweat is still dripping down the nape of your neck when he parks in front of the client’s venue.

Simon ignores any attempt of yours to help unload the van. All you can do is watch helplessly as he carries multiple arrangements into the venue at once, leaving you to handle the contract and payment collection. The situation is spiraling rapidly out of your control. 

Your client, a housewife about a decade or so older than you, eyes him as he passes with two flower pots tucked under his arms. 

“I didn’t know you changed staff,” she murmurs, eyes following him into the next room and lingering on the backs of his thighs when he bends down to deposit the flower pots, making the material of his pants strain tight around his glutes and hamstrings. 

“I didn’t,” you protest, shaking your head. “That’s—he’s my boyfriend’s coworker. Um, his boss, I mean. I think. He’s just helping out for the day.”

“Well, I know how I’d like him to help out,” someone else giggles. One of the venue staff, judging by her uniform. Even your client titters at that.

Simon’s more approachable with the mask off, it seems. Still verging on the preternatural, but at least without the mask he seems more human. All six-foot-five-inches of him, arms and legs packed with a generous helping of muscle and fat; a square jaw must be appealing to any sex-parched person within range. It makes your jaw clench.

“Here’s your receipt,” you grit out before ripping it off the payment terminal and handing it to her. She blinks at your dour mood, unused to a less than professional version of you, but that’s what Simon’s presence does to you. Sours you right up. A lemon squeezed right into the mouth.

He’s posted by the van when you come out still scowling and itching for a row. He frowns at the look on your face. “Fix your attitude. You’ve already upset Johnny enough.”

You halt in your tracks, dumbstruck. “I’ve upset Johnny?”

“Yeah. So fix it before we get back.”

You’ve officially reached your limit. All day, you’ve been waiting to go nuclear, bad mood settling deeper and deeper into you because you’ve never been good at managing your anger. The audacity to blame you for this whole situation nearly makes you lose your head. 

Simon looks almost bored when you stomp up to him and stab a finger into his chest. You pointedly do not let yourself focus on how little his chest gives beneath your finger. “All of this was your fault for sexually harassing me in the first place. I don’t even think you were ever sorry for that—this all just feels like some fucked up attempt to break me and Johnny up.”

He stares down at you. “You think I want Johnny for myself?”

Heat flares under your collar, but you push on. “I do. And you know what? You can have him. I don’t need this. Johnny clearly values your approval more than mine anyway or none of this ever would have happened once he caught you groping me in broad daylight. If you want him so bad, nothing I do is going to work, so why even bother? He’s yours. The both of you can fuck off when we get back—I’m sick of having you in my space.”

The tirade leaves you panting by the end of it, and then you look into his eyes. 

You wonder if it’s a universal phenomenon to sense the moment when you’ve made a grave miscalculation. It must be. The feeling is overwhelming; for you, it throbs in your very bones. 

Simon’s expression never changes, but the light behind his eyes starts to flicker in a different way, and you are suddenly conscious of him not just as a man but as a man paid to kill. A professional at that. At least a dozen bodies under his belt and likely more, and yet you stand chest to chest with him like you’re somehow tougher than that; like all those bodies mean nothing, like his knife hasn’t quenched its bloodthirst ad infinitum, like his arms haven’t felt a neck crack until it’s become a habit, an easy kill, a morning fix. 

You’ve never felt more like meat than under his gaze. 

“Get your ass in the van,” he commands, and you listen because your mouth has gone dry and you understand now, somewhere deep in your reptile brain, a little creature hissing at you to turn and run, that he doesn’t warn. He just does. 

Humiliation festers under your skin when he buckles you in. Your mouth opens on a smart remark until you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye and it’s all anger leaking tar, mafic lava dark and flowing, smooth and lobed and striated with hellfire. 

You think at first that he’s just going to drive you home. Your words might have offended him, but the lack of refutation makes you think that at his core, he must agree. Simon is just another man with an unholy allegiance to ego, an ugly incarnation of desire and pride that you might have briefly mistook as a person as complex as yourself until he snuffed that inkling right out with a hand on your ass. 

Then, lost in your thoughts, you miss when he pulls over and puts the van in park. 

You hear the click of your seatbelt, but your head doesn’t have time to turn before Simon hauls you over the center console and into his lap, a hand already clamping over your mouth to muffle your scream. 

“I’ve had enough of the fuckin’ attitude, girl,” Simon snarls into your ear, shoving his hand down the front of your pants without any preamble, the stretchy jogger fabric not putting up any resistance. “I haven’t got the patience for it. We’ll sort you out and knock these stupid notions from your skull.”

You must shriek under his palm because his fingers tighten, digits pressed into your jaw to the point of aching. It’s hard to tell under the white hot fear that washes over you, nearly blinding you. 

If it bothers him to find you dry under your panties, he doesn’t say anything. Calloused fingers spread your labia wide and trace over your clit lazily, trying to coax the slick out of you. You squirm in his hold, desperate to somehow wriggle out, but Simon chooses now to give you a glimpse of his strength, holding you tight to his chest. No matter how much you squirm, there’s no way out of his hold. Shouting behind his palm doesn’t help either; Simon just curls his hand tighter over your mouth. 

Horror blooms in your chest when your core starts to warm up at his touch. The first traitorous bead of wetness nearly has you apoplectic with rage. His fingers saw up and down over your slit until he thinks you’re wet enough to handle two fingers shoved knuckle deep. 

“Enough of that,” Simon grunts when you yelp and knee the underside of the steering wheel in your haste to get away. “It’s just two. You’ve been fucked before; you can take it.”

Your knee aches from slamming into the steering wheel, but it’s nothing compared to the ache of his fingers stretching you open, the skin around his knuckles delicate and febrile. For all his flaws, Johnny loves getting his mouth on your pussy before trying to cram his cock in, addicted to the taste of you on his tongue when he’s got you folded in half and taking his dick like a champ. Simon seems like he wouldn’t mind railing you in the back of the van without any prep whatsoever. 

“Can’t wait to break you on my cock,” he growls, his breath hot over your neck, and lust stinking up the van so bad that the air is nearly rancid with it. Sulfuric. “You think you’ve had it rough with Johnny? You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you’re in for with me.”

His hunger is a noxious, billowing cloud. Miasma like. It threatens to smother you. His shaft is hard under your ass, evident when he thrusts his hips up. Your ensuing yip makes him grunt, gratified, like his pleasure comes part from your shock. 

“I’m not explaining this shit anymore. This is the way it’s gonna be from now on—no discussion, no arguing, no nothing. It’s not up for negotiation.”

Simon’s fingers piston into you without remorse, brutal hunger foisted off on your body. You again try desperately to push away from him, almost levitating out of his arms until he forces you back down and bites down hard over your clothed shoulder. The horn stays silent when you try to honk it, mocking you somehow. You wonder if anyone would hear your muffled cries from beneath Simon’s hand if they happened to pass by, or if they’d chance a glance into the van and see the devil himself playing with your pussy in his lap and keep on walking. 

Your body plays you for a fool though, sweltering under his touch. When he growls in your ear, your pussy clenches up nice and tight, and slick drips down your inner thighs. 

A third finger nearly makes you choke on your gasp. You go quiet after that save for the occasional whimper, all of your energy concentrated on accommodating his fingers, each as wide as almost two of yours. A fourth almost doesn’t feel fathomable, but then he sinks it into you and every thought leaks out of your head.

“Christ, you’re a dream when you shut your mouth, aren’t you, doll?” Simon breathes, nosing the corner of your jaw. “Johnny picked a nice little cunt for himself.” 

He doesn’t pick up on the irony somehow. Even shaking in his lap, your brows furrow at his words, a barb on the tip of your tongue until a glob of slick leaks from you and wrenches you back out of your head. 

He clicks his tongue against his teeth all condescendingly when your breathing goes hitched and panicked, so close to coming that you feel a hairsbreadth from it. When you jump at the sound of his tongue snapping in your ear, he chuckles, the broad chest at your back shaking with his laughter.

“There we go,” Simon murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand over your belly. “Tired, eh? Just need to come and have a nap. I know Johnny left you hanging this morning. Poor girl.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he’d dropped his hand from your mouth to your stomach, but there’s nothing to do about it now. All you can do is lean back against him and stare at the fine, blond hair on his knuckles as he drags it over your belly button in slow, languid strokes. 

“Oh god—” you groan when he thumbs your pearled clit and sinks his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, your hole stretched too tight. 

Sweat beads on your hairline. It feels like tears might be leaking down your cheeks, but it’s hard to say. The only thing you can do is focus on not coming apart at the seams.

The air in the van is moistened by your breath, the windows almost completely fogged up. Your lower back aches from arching into his hand. When it comes out in a sob, he tells you he’ll have Johnny massage it when the two of you get home. 

“It’s always gonna hurt a little with me,” Simon says, and you almost mistake it for apologetic until he pulls you into an open-mouthed kiss that makes you twist your neck and ignores the way you whimper into his mouth.  

You nearly black out when he finally makes you come, your head tipping back and resting on his shoulder. You tense in his grasp and open your mouth on a soundless moan when your walls spasm around his fingers. Nothing you can do but let it happen. Like splintering down the middle. It hits you so hard that your belly cramps. 

Shame hits you so much harder. A half second after, like the sky splitting open and a voice thundering down, you know what you did. 

Your leg gives a feeble twitch when he pulls his fingers out, his palm soaked with your juices. You’re a limp mess of sour sweat and come in his lap, reeking of sex musk and a warm, spicy scent. 

You squeal and jolt back to awareness when he pushes a finger back in, sensitive to the point of pain. “Simon, I can’t—”

“Hold still; m’not done yet,” he cuts you off, irritation layered in his voice again. 

You don’t have to endure it for as long this time at least; he paws at your overworked sex and pants in your ear like a bear. Luxuriating in the soft, wet folds of your pussy. His touch isn’t clumsy, but it feels like he’s making up for lost time. It almost makes you wonder how long he’s wanting to get between your legs, but that thought evaporates when he reaches further down to press his fingers against the rim of your other hole, chuckling into your hair when you clench up. 

Then, after a few minutes, he pulls his hand out of your joggers and pats your belly with his wet fingers, leaving dewy strands of your juices on your skin before helping you back into the passenger seat. You don’t even have it in you to protest when he buckles you in again. You even accept it when he leans over to plant another wet kiss on your mouth, one with too much tongue and too much teeth, come drunk and aching for any kind of affection. 

“Sweet as pie, eh?” Simon rasps, eyes half-lidded and heady. Almost lovesick. “Couldn’t have asked for better.”

You stare at the side of his head as he drives the two of you back to the shop, eyes glued to his cauliflower ear. Rough son of a bitch. Brute strength hewn into his bones, covetous need in his veins.

And this is what your boyfriend thought was appropriate to bring home. 

He stops one more time to feed his cock down your throat before you make it home. Your tongue curls around the mushroomed head of dick when he drags your head down, the wiry hair at his crotch tickling your nose. The scent of him here is pungent, musky. Old lichenous rocks and rust like blood on your tongue. You’re so pliable that you hardly even gag when it touches the back of your throat. 

His come is still hot and tacky on your tongue when he pulls you into his lap to let you cry it out, wiping up your tears with a rough thumb. It’s a while before you manage to settle down again. 

Johnny’s still beaming behind the counter when you come in, Simon at your rear to keep you from running, his hand planted firmly at the small of your back. You can barely look your boyfriend in the eye. You’re afraid he’ll see it plain as day on your face, hair mused and lips swollen from sucking his lieutenant off in the van on the drive home. 

“The two of ye have a good time all by yourselves?” he asks, either deliberately ignoring the obvious or naively trusting. You don’t know which would be worse.

You can hear the dry grin in Simon’s voice. “We had a nice chat, didn’t we, doll?”

All you can muster is a weak smile and croak, “Yep. We did.”

You hold off a flinch when Simon’s hand slips down and grabs a handful of your ass.

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | your small sleepy town has never been enough for you. maybe that’s what makes it so easy for inmate soap, his cellmate ghost, ad their friends on the outside to convince you to help sneak them out of prison. (w/c: 1.2k)

warnings include language, dark themes, prisoners!ghoap, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life), bit of an age gap between reader and 141 (late 20s/30s and 40s), bodily fluids (mentioned), soap and ghost work in the tailoring room, improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, manipulative!ghoap, submissive!f!em!reader, loser boyfriend behaviors (you'll see), illegal activities, violence (mentioned). +18/mdni

full masterlist

The claps are almost loud enough to creep under the crack in the door. Almost… thankfully Soap has perfected the art of fucking you in the back of the sewing room closet. Quick, punchy thrusts at just the right angle to yank an orgasm from the both of you. He pierces himself inside you, and your pussy pulses hard around his thick member that spurts out spells of cum that you’ll hold onto for the rest of the day.

You barely contain the whimpers that want to spill from you.

“Oh, whit I wouldn’t give tae hear those bonny sounds out loud, little miss,” Johnny whisper hot, lips brushing the back of your ear messily. He kisses the spot before pulling out of you with a grunt he has to cover with a cough.

He gives your bare hip one more pat, squeezing the skin for a quick moment before hurrying to raise his pants. You feel a heated gaze on your backside as you bend to pull your panties and pants back into place. A rush of heat rewires you once again, as you can feel the load attempt to seep from your whole. You squeeze with a bitten lip and slight shudder, turning to face Soap but able to meet his eyes. The man puffs his chest in a stretch, smirking at you with a smug rub of his stomach.

You sure are something, aren’t you? Letting him fuck you raw in the place he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life, and you can’t even look that sweet gaze at him. The inmate knows the two of you don’t have much time left but takes a few long seconds to up-and-down you anyways.

Finally, Soap steps forward. Swaying in his stand, his pointer finger coming to lull your gaze to him while the rough pad of his thumb drags just across your chin. He makes sure not to speak until you’re really looking at him.

“See ye out there, huh?”

Soap’s tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his lip with a pretty shine. He has to hold back a chuckle at how slow you nod for him.

“Stay sweet, hen,” he sniffs, and you almost flinch at how fast the cool air returns to you at the removal of his hand. You clear your throat, gathering yourself as you grab your clipboard and  follow him back into the tailoring room.

Ignoring whatever eyes are on you, your legs are still a little shaky when you walk yourself back to your seat at the front of the room. You fail in your attempt to not let your eyes glaze back over to Soap, who’s also just making it back to his assigned chair. He collapses in the seat with a breath, scratching the back of his head.

It’s when your stare floats to the man next to him–a mass of muscles and a hard face that you don’t think you’ve seen crack anything close to a smile–that you pause. You’re stuck in a stupid stare, watching and squirming in your seat when they catch eyes with each other. Their silent conversation is loud. It screams right into your face, and you wonder so hard what they could possibly be talking about that it makes your head hurt.

Is it bad you want it to be you?

~

“Grape or blue raspberry? Or cherry, maybe?”

Soap. An odd name you’ve wondered about since he was placed in your section. And his mohawk. Does he cut it himself? Or get another inmate to do it?

Ghost. A mystery in a half, you’ve found. Never speaks. Looks at you funny… a different kind of funny than Soap but still funny.

“Hey.”

A blink of your stinging eyes brings you right back to the gas station dining room booth. He’s sitting in front of you, forgetting about the different options of flavored ice on the laminated menu before him. The stare he places on you is hard to sit with, and you feel the guilt working its way up your throat in the form of bile.

Rocky’s eyebrows do his speaking for him when they pinch together as he leans toward you.

“Don’t want an icee,” you finally mumble, a little rude. Rocky seems more concerned than offended, nodding with visible hesitation. He stays in his quiet while you slide away the menu to rub at your eyes. “Not that thirsty anymore, actually.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” your fiance blinks, pausing for a moment. “Did… did something happen at work?”

“Something always happens at work, it’s a fucking correctional facility.”

Rocky blinks again, trying not to brisk at the harshness of your voice. Swallowing, he shifts. “You know, I still don’t like you working there. In that place. With all those jerks.”

Jerks. That’s the best he can come up with?

“So you’ve said,” you sass back, wishing it was morning already. Morning means that Rocky’s already out of the house before you’re waking up. Morning means you start a new day of work and get to see the way Inmate Soap’s chest and biceps bulge in his prison uniform. Morning means another chance that Inmate Simon might speak to you. “Can we go home now?”

Rocky throws his head to the side in dissapointment, pouting childishly. “We didn’t even get anything yet.”

“Get it to-go, then,” you instruct him, yanking yourself from the booth to make a b-line to the truck with a dissatisfied shake of your head.

Inmate Soap would treat you better than this. Take you somewhere nicer than a goddamn gas station dining room for your anniversary. And you know what? So would Inmate Ghost. Even if he doesn’t speak…

~

Dinner is the usual. Sloppy but edible.

“Same sad meal,” Soap sighs, dropping his spoon so that it crashes into his tray of half-eaten food. He stares at Ghost through his eyelashes before his face brightens with a smirk. Voice lowering, Soap leans. “Wish I was eatin’ her, instead.”

Ghost has to pause in his chewing of the mushy carrots they were served this evening. It’s a miracle the fork in his hand doesn’t break at how hard he comes to clench it.

“‘M tellin’ you, Si,” Soap shakes his head with a rub of his chin, face hazy. “Pussy’s hotter than th’ sun. Would live inside there, ‘f I could…”

“Stop speakin’,” Simon rumbles out, and Soap shakes with a delighted giggle.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Soap shrugs, gathering his spoon back up to pick at the leftover food. “Bet she’d, ah, let ye have a taste, too. Sweet thing… even got those sad eyes ye like. Which you would notice if you’d speak to the lass–”

“Shut the fuck up, Mactavish.”

Simon’s voice catches the attention of a few surrounding inmates, who know not to question what’s wrong. Not if they want to get their head bashed in by an angry Simon Riley. If they only knew it wasn’t anger coursing through his vein, but a healthy dose of blood running down to his cock that’s making him like this. He resettles in his seat, ignoring the way Johnny’s looking at him, and giving a good palm to readjust his now-leaking cock. Biting his tongue, he can’t help but clench all his muscles at how right Johnny is.

You would taste a hell of a lot better than this sad excuse of a meal.

(next part) - © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[wombywoo]

its really starting to feel like ur cheating on ghoap by drawing other couples sorrryy 😭😭

Hi! I think you're confused--Soap and Ghost are fictional characters from the call of duty franchise and I'm not in a relationship with them?? I can see how this might be baffling for you to understand, but I'm merely an artist who draws whatever I want 💁‍♀️ Cheers! xox

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

[rememberwren]

Wren my brain is so fried. I've never sent a ask before but I gotta tell someone... I just found out my boyfriend of three months was cheating on me for the past two weeks and you better believe I kicked his ass to the curb. No seconds chances on that shit. I won't ever put up with that. But man I'm horny af this week and want a rebound revenge fuck. You know when you are so horny you happily entertain the thoughts of getting fucked, bent over in a public bathroom. I'm thinking the dirtiest smuttiest thoughts about Ghoap who have been together for years picking reader up at a bar, just for a fun time. And then Reader who's on a rebound and just wants a romp in the sack with someone hotter then her ex.... two elite soldiers will definitely do. So reader absolutely goes home with them, asking for hickies and marks so she can make her ex jealous. And they have the dirtiest, filthiest sex possible of course. But then... it's also the best sex they've all had in a while and they keep making excuses to meet up again. Hooking up constantly until it starts becoming something more.

Bestie I’m gonna write this for you because fuck that cheater! I am wishing the most painful UTI on him. Just give me some time, I’m adding this to my copious WIPs list.

[ohbo-ohno]

If I chant noncon puppy play enough times will you grace us with more ghoap x reader noncon puppy play?

I would really love to see what you could do with Ghost coming across Soap and reader who are in a relationship but it’s rapidly becoming toxic with Soap becoming pervy and flirty with other people and reader being frustrated with it and the unsatisfying sex she’s having now because of it. And Ghost just takes one look and goes “yeah, I can make them happier” and then puts them in crates.

I like to think he’d put them in separate crates so they can’t actually touch each other but he’d make sure they were tied together so they couldn’t escape each other -💙

if you THINK noncon puppy play hard enough i'll probably feel it through the force and try to write it

also i fucking LOVE this ask and concept i love you for sending it in. this post is kinda scatterbrained though because i didn't want to write an actual drabble lol

im not a big fan of cheating in fics so im gonna exclude the idea of soap flirting with other people, but!!! i really really enjoy the idea of soap and reader being wrapped up in a toxic relationship and ghost going "let me get in on that". peak humor tbh.

i think this version of ghost would be sort of like howling and barking ghost - way more... subtle? puppy play. he's not taking you two home and shoving you in cages, he's getting you two conditioned to certain tones of voice and his whistles.

this is kinda difficult to come up for something with, because im trying to think of ways for ghost to slide himself into your relationship that even feel a tiny bit natural

my fave one (off the top of my head) is maybe you and johnny have been trying to pick up a third like every weekend to spice up your sex lives (you end up having near violent sex and arguing through the third person, and they're usually not down to hook up again) and one weekend you just so happen to ask ghost. he'd usually never take up an offer like that, but he sees the little fissures in your relationship pretty immediately and figures "what the hell?" might as well wreak a little havoc. unfortunately for him he gets far too attached as soon as he gets his hands on you two

i like to think he sort of just... becomes your third. at first it's just hookups (regularly, because you and johnny are fighting a lot recently and you love to do it with a third there instead of alone in your apartment and ghost never says no a threesome) but he pretty quickly establishes himself in your lives

from there, the training is easy. you and johnny are both fighting for power in your relationship, and you're too focused on your little game of tug-of-war to realize that ghost is swooping in and taking control of both of you instead. you're too busy working against each other to realize what he's doing to you

to be fair, he actually is helping you and johnny out quite a bit. you two are both hotheads with a lot of energy, fights happen very quickly and get very heated. ghost is there to step in, to knock the two of you on your asses and make you talk. you would not believe how often he sticks you in time-out, otherwise you two would say things you don't mean and end up pissy

he kinda literally talks to you two like you're dogs. a sharp "hey!" for bad behavior, scruffing one of you by the neck to hold you back, whistling to get your attention instead of saying your name, one word commands like "sit", "stay", and "come" instead of "wait a minute" or "come over here". pups need simple commands they can actually understand

he works on fixing your manners too :/

first step is to get you two waiting for permission to start dinner. sits down at the table and glares when either one of you eats before him, clears his throat all obnoxiously, does that horrible "thank you" when you drop your utensil. it's too awkward to push back against him (especially when you know how quickly he could stomp you down) and it's easier to just... listen. you get a pleased hum and a solid pet over your hair, a "good boy/girl" and the trade-off of waiting for permission to eat is worth it

(ghost places both yours and johnny's plate in front of you, smirks when he walks away and neither of you move to eat. fixes himself a plate, sits down, takes a few bites. neither of you move, you both get a little squirmy, huff a bit. he gives you the command word, and praises you both so good in bed that night. neither of you even notice that he's the only one at the table with utensils)

he sleeps between the two of you in bed because you both get jealous and possessive :/ wakes up to johnny snarling over his chest at you, grabs him by the jaw and hisses don't make me fuckin' muzzle you, rumbles all satisfied when johnny settles a bit

anyways you and johnny genuinely are happier with ghost <3 you're also more well-mannered and understanding of your positions!!! you're just a pup, pups shouldn't have an attitude, and they wait to eat until they're told, and sometimes they have to sleep in a crate when they've been bad :/

(when he crates one of you he has to crate the other. if he locks johnny up you spend the whole time trying to taunt him, and vice versa. also you two are more well-behaved when you know you both get in trouble for your misbehavior)

it took a bit of work to get you two used to the crates. really ghost fights you with the pure power of nonchalance. you're both already Attached, and he's in control of so much of your lives (more than either of you really know), and he treats the crates like they're normal. Expected. he's not someone who changes his mind, and both you and johnny know that. you can pitch as much of a fit as you want, but you're going in that crate no matter what. there's just... a sort of inevitability around ghost

[ryuzakemo128]

Ghoap x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is Italian and speaks Italian. Swearing. Cursing. Insults thrown around. Reader talks about their wealthy family ties. Philosophy talk about death and what it means to accept death. Car accident in somewhat graphic detail I guess?

Note: If you want more of this type of thing, let me know, and I'll whip up a part two in a heart beat.

Note 2: Camion is Italian for 'truck'. At least, I think it is. But please correct me if that is incorrect.

You were still unconscious from the car accident, you weren’t the one who caused this forsaken mess, and yet you were the one who suffered the consequences of somebody else’s actions. Doctors said you suffered greatly, but then again anyone who was railed by a camion would have.

The term ‘suffered greatly’ is absolutely vague and at this point? It felt almost deliberate. Who knew when you would wake up? Let alone wake up at all? The nerves bundled up inside the both of them. Unsure why they had insisted it was safe enough for you to go there alone.

As the rain hammered down upon the asphalt road. As the camion came beside you inside the car that was small enough to be crumpled with too much ease. You didn’t see it coming. Not that you would have now, would you? It wasn’t like you could predict the future and considering the past is set in stone. It wouldn’t do any good trying to change what already happened.

“I will not be subjected to your lack of taste. Nor do I expect you suffer from my own tastes.” You told them months ago about Italian opera and how much you enjoyed it. “Either way. What you need. You shall have. No strings attached and no favours required.”

You are far too ‘selfless’ sometimes. According to them. But you loved them for what they did for themselves rather than what they did for you. What good is assistance if they can’t hope to help themselves.

“Hey, I will not have you speak negatively about yourself or wishing death upon yourself either. Neither helps you and nor will it help you heal either. Just because can doesn’t always mean that you should. You told me that once and I think it should be said to you too.” You gently scolded them once.

You showed them your AGM-1 carbine, your Italian Bullpup Carbine, once, “Its nice. I quite like it.” You said to Ghost one afternoon. “Its one my favourites. Along with the Barrett M8A1 I use.”

Soap hasn’t stopped pacing around the hospital waiting room. He was sure you would be dead before the two of them got to start dating you. Couldn’t have that now can they? But much like life itself.

Moments like these aren’t fair. Ever. You told them life shouldn’t be taken for granted. Cherish the time you have now and mourn the people you eventually leave behind. You knew this more than most people. You studied it in subjects like Forensics Anthropology, Forensics Pathology, Thantology, and Archaeology.

“Death cannot be cheated, nor can it hope to be delayed. To think you can do just that is beyond naïve. Hopefully idealistic in the act of thinking humans could ever dream of immortality.” You told them once. 

“Unless you are like my lineage, I doubt your family is going to have their own homegrown cemetery attached to their own churchyard. ‘Can’t have the ‘common folk’ get anywhere near our dead or something like that.” You added in.

When you do wake because death had decided it wasn’t quite your time to leave the earth just yet. Denying you passage to death’s cold embrace. How long would it take for you to get used to your new arm you wonder.

Ghost still remembers hearing about your favourite flower being ‘Lilly of the Valley’. Shocking him because they were light coloured flowers and the total opposite of your aesthetic. You said it was because of the fact life gave them such light colours to such delicate things. It was your mother's favourite for a while, along with flowers like sweet pea.

You didn’t like them until she passed, and thereafter? Loved them completely. Roses were fine. You weren’t going to turn away from them completely. But the sentimental value from the light pink lilies were far more than any dark red roses could offer. It was like comparing a sunrise to a sunset. Both were beautiful, one had a taint of sadness captured in it that you found absolutely charming.

“I find them prettier than I did when I was younger. Perhaps it was because my mother valued them so much? I can only guess that was the reason I took a liking to them.” You told him looking back at him from looking out the window. The rain hadn’t stopped pouring down from the look of things.

You continued speaking after a brief pause, “Though I do remember bringing her red and white snapdragons on Mother’s Day one year. I didn’t think it would affect her so much, until she said she had chosen them for her wedding bouquet. Her mother-in-law hated it, said it clashed with the ‘atmosphere’ and yet she decided to go with it.”

“You should have seen her, inside of white, she wore a midnight blue with silver embroidered stars along the fringes of the veil and the dress’s long train. Like she was walking straight from the depths of the sky. I said it was like the moon was loaning her its stars in the attempt to woo her into staying with him instead. In her refusal he gifted them in remembrance.”

You didn’t speak about your family’s ludicrously magnanimous volume of worldly goods, nor did you want to. Why would you?

How do you put in plain words to someone that it was reaped by taking care of the dead? You know you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed of. But in what way does someone go about telling loved ones their family’s legacy lies inside the act taking caring of the dead or the ones about to die?

Even though it was your mother’s side who dabbled in such things and not your father’s. Your father’s side were the more pompous kind of rich, lavish, extravagant and excessive with their wealth. It was your mother’s side that was more grounded, more in touch with reality. Creating the overture combination of a rich girl with the heart of someone who knew of suffering.

Though parts of your furniture does seem odd. Like the Marc Held for Prisunic Moulded Fiberglass Bed, c. 1966. You had decided to place a waterbed mattress to it, just because you wanted to make it feel older.

The black silk sheets and crimson silk pillowcases were the things inside your bedroom. These things? They made it feel more 70's. You liked that era, you also loved the 60's and 80's. Which despite the gothic shades, tones and colours. It was like you were trying to hold onto a piece of your mother.

They didn't know how to cope when they first heard you were in a car collision with a camion, you weren't going too fast. You weren't intoxicated. You weren't high. You were just driving back home after a rough case, and fate decided it was time to throw you curveball. A fucking curveball no one saw coming.

Soap slept in your bed that night, inhaling your scent from the silk sheets and clutching your whale shark plush. The heavy blanket draped over him. The fur blanket made from real deer fur. You told him it was made from the first deer you hunted with your grandfather months before he passed.

You had killed it yourself. You remarked it was your grandfather’s way of making sure you respected the animal you slaughtered. Use every part otherwise its murder and not hunting. A beautiful blanket which has lasted longer than most things you bought. In colour it’s a deep, rich brown, almost auburn in the right lighting. Soft to the touch. Eerie to think it once was a creature roaming the forests freely.

When you woke and Ghost had been in the chair beside you the whole time? “What……what time is it?” you asked like you had rolled out of bed.

“Two in the morning. You’ve been asleep for seven days and eight nights.” Ghost answered calmly. Knowing the doctor told him to keep the excitement to a minimum.

“I don’t know why, but I jumped, panicked a little, thinking I had to wake up for work.” You mumbled, you are still completely out of it from the amount of morphine inside you.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

[red5cars]

not for me tho! #freakfound

i live for soap and ghost cheating on each with bird and then on bird with each other. worst love triangle ever.

[littlecreampuffbirdie]

Ghoap x Roach

Maybe Roach was presumed dead or something, so Ghost moved on and found Soap. Eventually, his relationship with the sergeant became more than just even friends.

But then Roach turned out to be alive and came back. Then there’s Ghost having to choose between Roach and Soap, and Soap is like “we can share”. Roach’s reaction is either a sort of “Hell yes/sure” (I don’t know much about his character) or a “how the fuck did you pick this one up”.

But no matter what Roach’s reaction is, Soap gets through to him like he did with Ghost. The sergeant’s crafty like that. And then the three of them become a throuple or something and Ghost has to deal with his guilt for “cheating” for part of it… or something

[tempfrangit]

Disclaimer — this is a 🎶Disclaimer🎶 — you are responsible for what you read and how you choose to interact with media. I try to tag everything accordingly and have everything laid out as best I can because it is never my intention do to anyone harm. Remember to both block tags and use filters so the tags I put on things to stop you from seeing are actually caught. If something specific needs to be tagged, let me know and I will do so.

🟢- General Audiences 🟡- Mature 🔴- Smut/18+ ⚫- Dark Fic/Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

CoD -

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🔴

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🟡

- doe-eyed, 1.4k, You're going to let some alpha fuck you because you're broke and just happened to get the call. Thank you for your service. 🔴 (abo fic, dubcon, breeding kink)

- johnny becoming obsessed with reader 🔴⚫(gn!reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, stalking)

- wonder when you'll miss me, multi-chapter cheater!Soap fic 🟡(cheating, unplanned pregnancy, hurt)

- dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ forgiveness starts with you, ~300 words, sacrilegious sex with soap 🔴(f!reader, tribbing in a church)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader: + giving thanks, 503 words, An American your whole life until work brought you to England, Thanksgiving was your favorite holiday. Your boyfriend cements that for you. 🟡 (very light smut, suddenly poly) + dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ good girl — ghost x reader, 1.3k, hybrid au inspired by @/dante-mightdie’s post 🔴 (f!reader, breeding kink) Captain John Price x Reader: + what's a bad miracle?, 5.7k, your dream is finally in the process of coming true when you receive the worst call of your life. or just the worst call of your life so far. 🔴⚫ (ex-wife!reader, possessive behavior, voyeurism (accidental and implied non-accidental), drugged sex, non-consensual somnophilia, breeding kink, forced orgasm, implied forced impregnation, forced cheating, rape, dead dove: do not eat) + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Poly 141 x Reader: -

PriceNik x Reader: + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Fallout -

- luck be a lady tonight, [Barb Howard x Mr. House], 3.8k, A small piece of her feels something like pride at this potential show of interest. Another part is completely flummoxed. Barb laughs lightly before shaking her head at herself. She was no starlet. 🔴 (vaginal fingering, piv sex)

[valscodblog]

Office Workers John Price x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS, BE GONE OR BE BLOCKED! I will be checking the blogs who like this post. THIS IS VERY MDNI! I REPEAT MDNI! Why, you ask? Drinking, smoking, cheater!Simon, Bully!Gaz, Lapdog!Soap, and CEO!Price, SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT!, cheating (Obvi-Simon), vulgar language, and adult jokes. It legit starts off with you fucking Simon. MINORS BE GONE FOR THIS ONE BRO. Cannot stress it enough. Also, GHOAP!

SUMMONING!!!!: @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss @skauni @needa-sum-luvn @m-1-l-0 @staytrueblue and @karlachismylife <333

and Yes. I gave Soap his '09 scar. IT LOOKED SO HOT OKAY? WHAT AM I TO DO? IM JUST A GIRL!!!

"Si-Simon, fuck!" you gasped, your mouth wide open. Simon laughed silently as he looked up at you, he tilited the driver's seat back via the hande bar on the side of the seat, near the base, and smiled up at you. But his smile wasn't at all nice-no no. It was mean and ignorant. He knew what kind of trouble you two would get into, he didn't mind getting into to trouble himself, he always smooth talked himself out of it, but you on the other hand...you never liked trouble. Not unless it was fun trouble. Which, when Price found out about you and Simon, it wouldn't be. And knowing Price, he'd find out. "Can't-Fuck-Can't wait ter see yer pretty arse in trouble!" Simon gloated, for some reason-he always liked seeing other's below him in some sort of trouble. He didn't know why but he just did.

That's was how your night went last night. Crazy-first day on the job and you ended up fucking your manager. Wow. Good job, Me, you scolded yourself, as you sorted through papers on your cubicle's desk. Your neighbor stood up and man was he tall. Simon had called him the Boss' lapdog-he didn't look it...What with the scar in his eye and all 'round rough appearance.

"Aye, Bonnie! 'Ow was the date?" He asked, in his heavy Scottish drawl. You smiled and said, "It was rather nice, truth be told...Simon's a bit brash, but he's pretty good with woman, surprisingly." He smiled and said, "You call the ol' Ghost, Simon, now, aye?" he teased, walking over to you. You nodded and said, "He told me to." he gave you a low whistle and smirked. "But be lucky, Bonnie. The only one allowed ter call 'em that is Me-his Husband."

And that warm smile disappeared. You looked him dead in the eyes and asked, "What?" stupidly. He looked down at you, his lips pressed into a thin white line. "Sure, it's not the first time he's cheated...but it is the first with a Woman...makes me question some things..." he gurmbled as he stared down at you, you, being you, stayed sat in your chair and gulped. "If it makes it better-he told me-"

"That i wuz single. Aye, Love. 'Ello, Y/n," Simon said walking over, her pressed a kiss to his supposed husband's forehead, and you swear you could see tears in your work-partner's eyes. "Wuz jus' sum fun, Soap. 'S all, Baby." "Just some fun? Really, Simon?" Soap, you guessed his nickname was, said through his teeth, you gulped again. "You cheated on may-with a fuckin' rookie! And a Girl nonetheless, ye bastard!"

You stood up and said, "Look, I'm so sorry, Sir. If I had known that-" "Naw, I don't blame ye, Bonnie! I blame tha' ol' Bastard right there." and he jerked his thumb in the direction of Simon. You sighed and then Gaz, the old asstant of the CEO's came out of his room and said, "The boss wants to see you, Y/n. I dunno why, so don't ask."

You swear you and everyone around you could hear your heart drop. You walked over to your CEO's office-the only time you ever saw him was when you were being interviewed by Laswell. He had walked in to ask her something, forgetting that she had you on the schedule. You knocked on the door and it opened so you poked your head in.

"Sir-you called?"

"I did. Come in, Y/n."

"Yes, Sir."

if only you knew how much you affected him. He only ever saw you one time-but fuck you were...captivating. He tensed slightly and then said, "Call me, John." to which you nodded. "Of course...John." Huh...sounded pretty coming from your mouth...wonder what else would.

"So...your new, you don't know much of well...anything, Love, so I'll give you the run down."

you gulped, "If i may ask before we start sir, what did i do wrong?" "Oh its not what you did wrong! It's what one of my...lowers did wrong, more so." "Oh..." "But you too are...semi at fault here-you entertained a certain...thought. Even acted upon it with a certain, Simon Riley?" you quirked a brow up. "Yeah...i went a date-" "Well let me tell you-you missed work with the excuse that you were sick...lying to me isn't a good idea, swee'eart." you gulped. "Uhm...I uhh, didn't call off, Sir-" "Oh really? I hope you know we, for legal reasons, record every phone call we get at this company, Y/n."

you were in huge trouble...You knew it. John looked up at you from where he was sitting and said, "I don't approve of Simon's ungodly habits. Never have-never will. But you, poor you, really...you didn't know he was married. Went to the wedding m'self. Wasn't big but it was nice," he listed off to you, you nodded. "Sit down, sit down! So sorry i havn't asked you before where are my manners?" He joked as he held his hand out to an empty seat across from him. "You aren't being horribly punished-but you will be punished just ever so slightly, Birdie." You nodded.

You deserved to be. You had helped Simon cheat on Soap. His name tag said, "John" you just now recalled. So, two John's at this office, huh? Wow....pay checks must get mixed up. "Are you listening, Y/n?" "Yes, Sir." "Good. So, you will be under strict supervision now, for about three to four weeks. I'll give you Kyle's old office. He's moved up in the chain now, don't worry. He's just a rank above you....same as John, truth be told." You nodded, "Right...so you'll move me into his old office?" "Yeah, that's right. That alright with you, Love?"

You nodded as butterflies flew into your stomach. You always had liked British nicknames. They gave you a sense of comfort-and turned you on a good amount too...but what you forgot is that the English are very smart too. Very observant, very attentive...John, even more so. He could see the gears in your head turning and then getting stuck up on that nickname, and every other one he called you. He could basically Hear the rate of your heart, and the fact you were blushing only confirmed his theory.

"Good to know you approve, My Dear."

and oh lord, your reaction was priceless. Red face, struggling o keep composure...poor thing. One single little nickname sent all of your hormones rushing to your cunt as if it hadn't been fucked the night before.

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 10 Hopeful End (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 (Bad End) || Part 10 (Hopeful End)

═══════════════════════════

There's a lil confort here, hope u like it.

Tag: Character death (Not Ghoap)

═══════════════════════════

People tend to deny reality when everything collapses on them. Simon did the same.

For a few weeks he called Johnny's mobile phone in the hope of being answered, but of course it didn't work. Johnny was moving on.

Ghost only stopped calling when Price called him into his office to tell him that the omega had asked him to stop calling. At first, Ghost tried to deny the request, saying that he just needed to explain himself and all that.

But Price, being the man of reason, sat Ghost down and explained why he should stop.

"Simon, you have to get help, I know what happened was hard for you, but me, Kyle, Kate and the other soldiers are suffering too. You're not alone, son. Just think about it, Soap wouldn't want to see you like this."

That night as Ghost sat at his desk, tracing the letters in Soap's letter. Rereading and rereading, perhaps trying to etch the phrases into his mind like a prayer to himself.

Perhaps Price was right, Ghost really was being ignorant. How could he demand something when he wasn't worthy, when he was just an arsehole.

He had to do better, just like Soap. Simon needed to seek improvement, to seek forgiveness for himself, so that one day, when he was cured, he could apologise to Johnny face to face.

The next morning, Ghost asked the captain to help him find a good therapist. The surprise in the captain's eyes and the slight smile on his face further confirmed that Simon had made the right choice.

The first session with the therapist was uncomfortable to say the least. The introductions were basic, but Andy, the therapist, had been given previous information about Ghost.

The first topic discussed was the months of torture with Roba in Mexico. And that led to the topic of family, something that made Ghost almost shut down, but of course he was against it as he remembered why he was doing it.

There were a few weeks of discussions, ones in which Simon got angry, laughed at the stupid things he'd done, and got tired of remembering some other moments.

But one day, they finally got round to the most recent problem, that being the ‘break-up’ with Johnny. Ghost gave the best explanation he had, and Andy listened silently.

"You thought he cheated on you," Ghost nodded. "I understand, but I'd like to ask, did he ever give you any signs?"

"No, I trusted him with everything I had, I just..." Ghost twirls his finger in the air.

"You thought there was no way this child could be yours, you were sure of it, you acted on emotion and it was certainly an expected reaction in this situation."

Ghost even now doubts whether that was the appropriate reaction.

"Maybe if I'd done something earlier, if I-"

"There's no point in thinking ‘what if’, Mr Riley. If you keep dwelling on these thoughts, you'll doubt yourself every time something goes wrong in your day-to-day life."

This will be difficult for Simon, on the pitch he doesn't have this problem but in his personal life... maybe he can start little by little.

Baby steps, they say, right?

——💀——

The light from the infirmary was strong against Ghost's eyes, and every night he had to endure it until it went out.

He had lost a lot of blood and minor injuries on the last mission, Price had forced him to stay in the infirmary until everything was stabilised and to the old man's surprise, Ghost wasn't opposed to it.

He always refused for fear of needles and unknown hands on him, fears that originated in Mexico, Andy said in one of the sessions months ago.

They were treating it little by little, of course the fear would never go away, but he could be better at not letting it get to him. It was uncomfortable at times.

Luckily Price had managed to find him a room on his own, with no-one to bother him. Or so he thought until someone knocked on the door.

Sighing heavily, he says to the door. "Come in." Ghost just didn't expect whoever came through the door to be Laswell alone. And surprisingly, she seemed... calm, at least her odour indicated that.

The last time he had contact with her was the day he returned to base and received Johnny's letter. After that, alpha refused to work with Ghost, passing on the necessary information to Price and another operator to follow in the field.

"Watcher..."

"Ghost..."

They stare at each other for a moment, awkwardly long followed by silence, with only the wind outside whipping through the trees.

Laswell sits down in a chair next to the bed, she props herself up and crosses her arms. "How are you?"

Ghost swallows dryly, feeling a tingle in his throat. "I'm fine, better than I thought."

"That's good." 

In another moment of silence, Ghost finally asks. "Why are you here, boss?"

An emotion, perhaps pity or caution, passes through Laswell's eyes before she says. "Price told me you'd been hurt, turned into a fountain of blood."

"He's got a way with words, that old geezer." He laughs lightly.

"Definitely," she rests her arms on her knees. "...He said you started therapy."

After those conversations with Price and the late nights, there was no way he wasn't going to start seeing a shrink, he needed to get better.

"Yeah, I needed it... six months of talking and medication, it's good, I think I'm starting to understand myself a bit."

Laswell smiles at that. "Good, I'm happy for you Simon."

"Kate," Ghost licks his lips, a little nervously. "I'm sorry I was such an arsehole to you that day. I was angry and desperate about everything that was happening. I understand why you hit me, I deserved it."

Alpha doesn't get in the way as Ghost speaks, her blue eyes analysing him until he's finished. She then gets up and approaches him.

"When Price told me about you, that you'd sought help, I was surprised, I had to see for myself." She slowly takes Ghost's hand. "May I?"

She wants to scent Ghost, does he deserve to be soothed by her? To be marked out as part of the pack? He nods, maybe he should accept that.

Laswell rubs Ghost's wrist against her neck. "Thanks." He murmurs

Laswell gives him a happy smile, she goes back and sits down in the chair. Perhaps things will return to normal in a while. Trivial conversations, parties and living in peace.

It might take a while, but Simon is willing to wait.

——💀——

Most days they are easy and calm, simple missions that have returned to normal, even the soldiers seem to have got a bit more used to Ghost who was calmer. They even crack a few jokes here and there.

Today especially, after completing a complicated operation, they decided to celebrate in one of the bars, and Price was of course buying all the rounds. Price, Gaz, Ghost and several other soldiers went, some staying to sleep.

It would have been an easy night, if it hadn't been for one thing.

The pub they decided to go to had four couples spread out, making the sweetest things possible that would make anyone's tooth fall out. Alphas and omegas rubbing necks.

And for a man who was already slightly too drunk from celebrating with the rest of the staff, seeing these couples loving each other made a bad feeling sink into the lieutenant's stomach.

Thoughts that had begun to disappear now resurfaced, along with a wave of remorse and sorrow that filled Simon's eyes and choked his throat.

He gets up from where he was sitting, half stumbling, saying he needed some air. No-one seems to notice except for Price, who looks at him with a little concern but does nothing.

The icy air hits Simon's eyes, which are beginning to water, and he walks over to a small alleyway next door, pulls out a cigarette and lights it, taking a puff.

Simon is a terrible person, because he of all people has to get fucked, and it's not the fault of others but of himself for not being able to do something right.

Sometimes Roba should have finished the job and made Simon join his family on that bloody floor.

Simon slides down the wall, falling onto the dirty floor next to a stinking rubbish bin. A whimper escapes his throat.

He pulls out his mobile phone, looking at the bright, clear light of his wallpaper. Johnny, him and Johnny hugging and smiling at the camera. He needed to change this photo, he'd never done it, he didn't have anything to replace it with.

What was Johnny doing now? Was he asleep? Celebrating like 141? Perhaps visiting his mum? If Simon could only ask, ask how he was, not ask for a chance, but just a friendship.

Maybe he should ask, he could try calling, right?

The cigarette already forgotten and lying on the ground, blown out by the wind, made the smell of tobacco spread through the air, a quick dizziness passed through Simon as he dialled Johnny's number.

At the first ring of the mobile phone anxiety set in, at the second fear, at the third Simon felt his jaw quiver, biting his lips and trying to stop the choking hiccups from coming out.

He was weak, he was drunk and doing something he shouldn't have done, he'd thrown himself into the ‘what ifs’.

When the call isn't answered and the operation tells him to leave a message, that's when the first sob finally comes out. He bangs his head against the wall, almost mumbling, pleading into his mobile phone, even though he knows no one will hear the message.

"Johnny... How are you? I'm fine, Price brought everyone to celebrate a mission..." Simon chokes on a solution and coughs momentarily, something runs down his cheeks and he knows what it is.

"I... I started seeing a therapist almost a year ago... you were right, I needed to seek forgiveness... I'm still trying to understand, you know." His vision blurs and Simon has to blink a few times.

"Sometimes it's hard to breathe at night, every time I feel... broken. But Price is always there to help me, just like you used to. I was such an idiot, you know, I lost myself in something that sent my head into a self-mutilating spiral..." The words come out a little slurred because of the drink in his system.

Simon pulls his knees to his chest, trembling slightly. "Laswell and I are becoming friends again... the soldiers seem to like me more, if you had to see the jokes we exchanged in training, you'd laugh..."

"B-But..." He coughs again, taking a deep breath, feeling phlegm dripping from his lips. "I think Gaz still hates me, I un-understand him, he's your best friend isn't he... I promise I'll try to do better by him, so he can see that I'm trying to improve..."

"I hope he and I can have a friendship someday... again."

A few more seconds pass, the mobile phone next to his ear is pulled out of Simon's hand, and he slowly hears someone leaning against the wall and sitting down next to him.

"Price..."

"Wrong name."

Simon lifts his head, looking with slightly widened eyes at Kyle who had disconnected the call with Johnny and switched off his mobile. Leaving them both in the darkness of the alley. Only cars and people's conversations could be heard.

"Sorry..."

"It's all right."

"It's not... I shouldn't have called."

"Then why did you call?"

"...I don't know... I guess... I wanted to know how he was."

"He's fine... he told me."

"Good."

They remain silent, Simon tries to wipe his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Gaz crosses his arms, not looking at the lieutenant.

"I can't forgive you for what happened."

"I know."

"You were a scumbag, you hurt a person who would have given anything to make you well."

"I know... I fucking know."

"He cried for nights, he waited for a sign, he waited for you."

Ghost doesn't answer, a louder whimper echoes through the alley, he sobs, his chest aching and burning.

"I really want to trust that you're better, you've sought help and that says a lot, the soldiers like you more than before, Laswell has even gone back on missions with you..."

Gaz gets up from where he was sitting. "I don't think I can have a normal relationship with you again, but I'll try to be cordial... just don't go wrong again Simon."

Gaz walks to the beginning of the alley, he stops momentarily. "Price wants to go, come on."

And just like that, Kyle is out of sight, leaving Simon to reflect and sore on the dirty floor. A well-deserved place for him.

——💀——

Applause echoed in the large hall, the smell of food made mouths salivate, and the drunkest danced on the dance floor, enjoying the peaceful evening after Price's promotion to Major.

There were so many people in the place that it made Ghost wonder how many people Price had met in his life.

Farah and Alex were present, and the couple chatted to Ghost for a moment, handing him a wedding invitation, which was surprising considering that Farah was married to work.

But in all honesty, Ghost was happy for both of them, they deserved it. If Ghost noticed Farah's hand sometimes resting on the omega's stomach, he didn't comment on it.

Laswell and her wife were also present, Laswell in particular made a little speech to Price, the poor old man turned red with embarrassment. It was sweet.

Gaz was with the other soldiers on the dance floor, already practically drunk but having a great time, Ghost was tempted to join in. Some soldiers even tried to drag him away, but he preferred to save himself the embarrassment of the evening.

Speaking of Gaz, he and Ghost had actually maintained a cordial relationship over the three years, they talked normally, sometimes a joke was exchanged between them, but apart from that, they weren't close.

It hurt to know that they couldn't be that close, but it's the consequences of Simon's stupidity, and that's okay.

When he finally managed to get Price to talk, the old man practically thanked him, apparently some COs were giving him a hard time. The two of them chatted on the balcony outside, smoking and relaxing.

Ghost thought it was going to be a bad night, but so far it had been a great one, with no fights or anything.

In the middle of the conversation, footsteps echoed from the back, which were slightly drowned out by the music and conversations inside the lounge. Price and Ghost turned towards the source of the sound, and Simon's body automatically froze and he lost his breath.

Now he understood why he hadn't seen him, there was no mohawk anymore, just short hair. Big blue eyes, and that smile that always made Simon submit.

Even after three years, Johnny was still beautiful, like a painting eternalised in time. Of course, he had a few wrinkles here and there, but to Simon, he was a beauty.

"Major." Even the thick voice made Simon wince.

"Lieutenant Mactavish." Price approached, giving him a strong hug. "Good to see you, son."

Simon watches the exchange of words between the two, it's nostalgic, he's seen this scene happen many times before, but to see it again now is... breathtaking.

"Ghost." Ghost blinks his eyes back to the present at Price voice, Price and Johnny were watching him.

He approaches, hands behind his back. "Mactavish... It's good to see you." He says awkwardly, not knowing how to communicate after years.

Johnny licked his lips, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. "Captain." Damn, it was strange to be called captain after years of being a lieutenant. "You look better."

Simon really hoped he was. "Yeah... I've been working on myself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Price smiling and giving way, walking to the door that leads into the lounge. Johnny glances back over his shoulder, also seeing Price step aside.

The alpha and omega stand in silence for a moment, a cold breeze blowing past them, sending a shiver up Simon's arms and a waft of Johnny's scent up his nose.  Sweet as ever.

Johnny approaches the balcony ledge, sighing deeply.

"John." He doesn't risk calling him by his nickname, knowing that he has no right to do so.

"Hm..." Simon approached, stopping next to the omega.

"I'm sorry-"

"Simon." Johnny turned to face Simon, melancholy in his eyes.

"I made a mistake with you, I should have trusted you as my partner that day, but I chose disillusionment. I just put it in my head that I could never have a child, without even going to a specialist for confirmation."

"I abandoned you, I made one of your fears come true and I don't deserve forgiveness for that, I know." He folds his fingers, looking into Johnny's eyes. "You didn't deserve that, and I hate myself every day for causing you pain, for putting you through something traumatic. It was selfish of me to ignore your feelings."

He pauses as Johnny puts his hand to his mouth and looks at the horizon.

"It took a while, a few weeks, but I sought help. Today I understand things about myself, I told you once that actions have consequences, and I thought I couldn't make mistakes. Too proud to notice."

He swallows dryly before saying the next words.

"You were right, we needed to go our separate ways." He smiles sadly. "Every day I'm trying to be better, and I think I'm succeeding. And I'm happy about that."

There was nothing more to say, what happened from now on would depend on Johnny.

The omega looks at the horizon, closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. He then looks up, staring at Simon.

"Sometimes the pain comes, grey and empty days wondering." Johnny bites his lip. "I'm happy for you Simon, you really do look better, and I can see the work you've done on yourself."

Unexpectedly, John hugs Simon, and the man throws himself into the last embrace he'll probably ever have from the man.

"The pain doesn't go away, but we learn to endure it."

Johnny was still struggling, but eventually he would get better, just like Simon.

And so, the man lets go and walks away, leaving Simon with the closure he needed.

——💀——

"I was thinking of planting some things in the garden, like carrots and onions, but Riley would probably dig up all the plants. That pest."

Yeah, Simon adopted a dog when he retired, bought a house in rural Carlisle, a small cottage in the countryside, practically a farm but with no animals, well, except Riley and a few chickens. Eggs are expensive these days.

He was thinking of taking the time to make a garden, now that he had free time, there was plenty he could do, and a garden was a great idea.

Finishing pulling out the weeds around the slab, Simon gives it a scrub with the broom, and to finish he pours a bucket of water over it to make sure it's clean.

"I should have brought her round for you to have a look, she'd lick your face clean." He laughs hard, maybe next time he can bring her here. "Next time."

Everything was ready, Simon stoops down next to where he had placed the products and picks up a bouquet of flowers, lavenders and sunflowers.

He places them on Price's grave, now cleared of undergrowth. "I hope you like it, old man, I picked it myself."

Simon wanted to bring roses, but they had sold out at the flower shop. There's one more thing to plant in the garden. He starts to pack his things into the bucket, ready to leave, but he stops when he hears footsteps.

He smells an apple, as sweet as a cake. It's instantaneous how Simon recognises that smell, even though he hasn't smelt it for years.

Looking up, he sees Johnny holding a bouquet too. Red and yellow flowers. Simon quickly stands up.

"John."

"Simon."

The omega's hair was a little longer and styled back, he had a big beard, and the wrinkles around his eyes were more noticeable, yet the beauty was immortal on his face.

"Were you cleaning?" Simon nods. "Congratulations on the job then." It was embarrassing, but everything was fine.

Johnny walked past him to put his bouquet with Simon's, amazing how flowers could turn something as macabre as a grave into something beautiful and admirable.

"How are you?" Johnny asked, without taking his eyes off the grave.

"Well, better than I've been in years." Simon scratches his head slightly. "The back pain has continued, but I think it's normal."

Johnny laughs, hands in his pockets. "Those won't go away, you should go to the masseur."

"No chance, the poor bastards would shit themselves with the scars."

"They're not so bad."

"If you say so, maybe when I have time I'll arrange a session."

"I can recommend a specialist, I sleep every time while he breaks the rest of my bones."

Simon snorted out a laugh, it was a nice moment. It had been a while since he'd talked to anyone, and being here laughing with Johnny of all people was perfect. It made him feel a little younger.

"I miss him." Johnny sighed, patting his grave.

"That makes two of us, sometimes I come and talk to him, but he doesn't answer much." Simon jokes.

"Don't tell me, I thought he was a chatterbox." Johnny says dismissively, but his voice was soft, teasing.

He turns round and walks over to Simon's side. "There's... I saw a café on the way here, do you want to pop in and have a chat?"

Simon considers, he looks at the bucket full of stuff. It's not as if he's in any real hurry.

"Sure, show me the way."

"Fuck off! Just hope they got those exotic teas of yours."

"Ugh, let the man have his favourites, Mactavish."

"Never."

Even after years, this Scotsman still managed to annoy Simon.

"So, I hear you have a dog?"

"Riley, she's a great companion."

"Cute, are you going to show her to me?"

"Someday, maybe."

"Great."

Yeah, maybe someday, Johnny.

═══════════════════════════

Notes:

We finally finished this story full of anguish and melancholy. I hope I've made the situation shown in this story well explained, with each character's perspective and points.

I hope that in the little I've written you've felt what I wanted to feel. In the part where Simon was apologising, Johnny didn't say much and the reason for this is that he had already said what was necessary in that letter in part 8.

Again, I'd like to say that Soap and Ghost aren't bad people for everything that happened, they just had the misfortune of not talking about their insecurities and fears. But perhaps now they can be more honest with each other, in any relationship they have in friendship or if they ever get back together.

I think that a hopeful ending for people who have been couples doesn't mean that they get back together, but rather that they can live together in harmony and peacefully, perhaps as friends. But everyone has their own interpretation, and what is yours?