#ghost x gn!reader

[mockerycrow]

ghost x gn!reader — “sharper teeth” (blurb)

After Las Almas, everyone changed. That much is obvious. Probably more so Ghost, Soap, and you—you always thought Ghost and Soap got the most shit from the situation. Ghost, being hunted down and hiding in a Church in the city. Soap earned a bullet, luckily nonfatal, and you? That’s something you’re not very keen on sharing with, well.. Anyone, really. The boys call it lying when you insist nothing happened, you call it keeping your business close to yourself.

Over the next few following months, however, it became increasingly obvious something is wrong with you. If it wasn’t evident in your bark, it was evident in your bite. After Las Almas, your scores suddenly shot up to excellent, top of the scoreboard when you’ve consistently earned “great” scores. Your scores topping some of the folks who’ve nearly always scored higher than you, so of course the sudden improvement would catch some eyes. Eyes that you never wanted on you in the first place.

It started out with compliments from everyone, especially the Captain. Price slapping down a hand on your shoulder, holding a piece of paper with your weapon’s qualifications. A grin and a congratulations that burns. You accept his words with grace despite how undeserving it feels. You should’ve been doing this well a long time ago. Ghost offered you impressed nods, elbow bumps. His touch feels acidic and wrong, despite his positive undertones. Gaz’s handshakes and hugs, his words make your ears feel like they’re going to bleed. Soap’s money spent on celebratory drinks feels like wasted currency.

It went from compliments from your team and your other peers to harsh words, fists, and fights; to blood smeared on the sparring mat. 

Something is wrong and you’re not going to get away with hiding it away forever, Ghost thinks.

[kivino]

kivi.. pls hear my vision. different situations where reader and ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean. PLEAAASEEE AGHH (and gn!reader ofc)

HUSH || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

Word counter - ~1k words

A/n - PLSS i love your idea so much, he'd be awfully awkward, but we love him for it <3333

ao3 link for this fic

The first time Simon hugged you like this, unprompted and spontaneous, you froze. He felt warm, huge, a bit awkward and out of place but genuine, true. He wanted to tell you so many things he had on his mind, but he just couldn’t, lips sealed under that skull balaclava, leaning into you and squeezing so hard you couldn’t even return the hug. Minutes spent in this position felt like a whole eternity.

“Simon, what are you…”

“Shut up.”

So, you did. Hearing his steady breathing close to your ear, even feeling his heartbeat against your chest…and how fast it was. He was nervous. That was surprisingly sweet. You felt a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth when you heard him exhale and squeeze you even tighter in his arms. You don’t question his behavior when he reluctantly lets you go.

Each hug he gives you feels like home. As you make your way back from the draining mission, Simon rests his arm around your shoulders and leans against you, while the two of you sit next to each other, finding comfort in each other’s presence. His head bumps into yours, so you shift slightly against him, and it finally slots in the crook of your neck. And then you realize. He’s sleeping. Soap, who’s sitting on the opposite side of you gives you a cheeky smile.

“Not a word.” You hiss at him, rolling your eyes.

Simon was rarely vulnerable. It was never the time or the place, after all, he dedicated his whole life to being a soldier – resourceful, capable, and strong. There wasn’t any space for his feelings. But with you, he always felt accepted. Whenever he needed you were right there, with your familiar features, warm smile, and open arms. And each time Simon found himself snaking his arms around your torso, closing his eyes, and inhaling your smell he caught himself thinking only one thing.

“I love you.”

He lost count of the times when he opened his mouth to finally say it, only to close it mere seconds later, rethinking his decision completely. Next time. Next time he’ll tell you. But that next time never comes. So, Simon remains stuck in this endless cycle of fruitless attempts to bare his soul for you, only to lose his voice and fall silent, hoping you’ll connect the dots yourself. Still, he was happy to be in your arms. And happiness likes silence, after all. So maybe his lack of words was for the best.

God, how much he loves you. Simon would spend his whole life in your embrace if he could, not a worry in the world as he basks in your warmth, something he craved desperately for years now. Something that would probably fill this gaping hole in his chest after he lost so much. He didn’t like being this walking one-man pity party he felt he was sometimes, but you made it easier. Simon had no idea how you just wormed your way into his heart so swiftly, but he’d take it. Whatever it was about you, you were special to him, and he was not letting you go.

“Earth to Simon, you there?” You look up at him from the tight embrace he once again trapped you in while smoking on the balcony. The night was surprisingly cold, so instead of lending you his jacket, Simon just pulled you in for an embrace, telling you to clasp your arms behind his back. You enjoyed this alone time with him, and you prayed that he wouldn’t pick up on your staring. One of the few times when he finally takes off his damn mask, and you’re worried about him catching onto you looking. And how could you not? His eyes looked like boundless, hypnotizing abyss in the glow of a flickering lightbulb.

“Simon to Earth, how copy?” He smirks, noticing your prolonged stare, and you see the embers of mischief dancing in his irises. Now it was his turn to tease you. Bastard. He chuckles at the sight of you flustered.

“Oh, fuck off.” You let go of him, getting out of the warm hug and giving his chest a slight push. Simon should know better than to tease you. You immediately feel significantly colder than before, but instead of returning to his embrace, you shove your hands in the pockets of your trousers. His eyes flicker towards your huddled form, but he doesn’t say anything, once again.

Simon doesn’t say anything even when you’re laying on top of him, like a weighted blanket, making his mind wander in a sleepy daze. He drinks up every single detail in front of him, the way your eyelashes flutter, the warmth you’re radiating, or how your face is pressed against his chest. Simon is more than sure that if you were awake right now, you could hear how fast his heart beats for you. It’s embarrassing, really. But Simon just can’t help himself. So, he squeezes you even tighter with one arm, his fingers lingering on your hair with a feather-light touch.

Maybe…maybe right now is the time. You’re sleeping. You won’t hear him anyway and he’ll be able to get so much weight off his shoulders. Simon feels something inside his chest ache, a bittersweet feeling rolling on his tongue. He knew it was foolish, but he needed that. Simon could already feel his insides tossing and turning in this uncomfortable, anxious anticipation of…something. He wasn’t quite sure of what.

But it’s now or never. So, he cranes his neck slightly and his lips touch your forehead for a short second. The touch is intimate and bashful, but it sends euphoric butterflies right through his stomach, along with that sweet, tender ache in his chest.

“I love you” Simon manages to whisper, as he lays back down, trying not to disturb your sleep any more than he already has. A shaky breath escapes his lips. He did it. He actually did it. Simon closes his eyes with another exhale, not even catching the way a faint smile appears on your face.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[iceman-soup]

amab reader x bot!ghost

It took years for Simon to trust you enough for this. It was a slow process, neither of you rushing, instead taking your time with your relationship: building it up over time, his and your confidence gradually raising with each new thing - small kisses, hugs; then eventually occasionally making out, regular cuddles.

But this? You'd thought about it, sure - but you couldn't quite believe it was actually happening until your lips were on his in your bedroom, hands delicately on his waist as if terrified he would break. Cautiously slipping under his shirt, pulling it over his head slowly to give him time to yank it right back on again if he needed. Eyes open, watching him slump back against the wall as his gaze follows you dumping his shirt on a nearby chair, then taking off your own and chucking it on top. His balaclava crumpled on the floor next to it.

"This alright, love?" you check. One hand moving to cup his cheek, the other hovering in mid air - unsure what to do. Ghost doesn't respond. His eyes are fixed on the carpet; scared. "You wanna stop, Si?" You shove your hands in your pockets.

His head snaps up, stare suddenly on you, laced with curiosity and still, slightly hidden away, fear. "No." His voice is blunt yet whispered, and he tilts his head slightly, "do you? We- we can, if y' want."

Your heart beats in your chest, trying to read his face. You shake your head. "Need you to be comfy, sweetheart," you insist, tentatively moving your arms to wrap around his waist, studying his reaction, "tell me what to do."

He hesitates, leaning into you, chest to chest as he lays his head on your warm, bare shoulder. Your fingers run absentmindedly up and down his back, tracing various scars like you have a million times before. His lips press to your neck, pausing a second more. Simon kisses your flesh, open mouthed and nipping a little, hands in your hair as he leaves a trail of marks up to your jaw, where you turn your head to capture his lips with your own.

"Gonna show me instead, pretty boy?" you murmur against his mouth, and he chuckles quietly; genuine, soft laughter for only your ears to hear. He brings you both together again, tongues in each other's mouths as you stumble towards the bed, clumsily sitting down on it with him straddling you.

Your hands drift to hold his belt, fingers skimming his body so he knows they're there; he breaks away for a bit to look down at you undoing it and his trousers, lifting himself up onto his knees so you can attempt to shimmy them down his hips.

"Stand up, love," you instruct gently, and he does, allowing you to take off his trousers and throw them on the chair - then doing the same with your own again. You'd seen each other in only boxers before, to change or go to bed, but this was different; of course it was.

"You're hard," he comments as if it's normal conversation. Taken slightly aback, you look down at yourself through the fabric then glance over at him.

"So are you," you grin, sitting back down on the bed, "want me to help with tha-"

"Yes."

Simon steps over to you, leaning down to kiss you again - slightly desperately, you note - and tugs a little at your hair. You hold his thighs, breaking away from his face to press small, loving kisses to his stomach and hips, your lips against the soft fabric of his boxers as you kiss his thighs. He doesn't make a sound other than slightly heavy breathing, but his hands massage your head, holding you close to him as if you're the sun on a cold, dark day.

You run a thumb between his skin and the waistline of his boxers, looking up at him. "Can I?" Waiting til he nods, then taking them off; noticing how he doesn't look down as he crawls properly onto the bed.

"Yours," he whispers simply, gesturing with a glance. You nod once, taking yours off too, shuffling to sit nearer to him, a hand on his chest as you lean in, kissing him deeply.

"Gonna prep you, okay?" you kiss his cheek, reaching for the lube on the side table and putting some on two fingers. "One at a time, and you say if I'm going too fast or anything, yeah?"

He lies down a little, tentatively spreading his legs; your heart skipping a beat realising how how vulnerable he feels right now. You open your mouth to reassure him, but he shuts you up by taking your clean hand in his own and giving it a light squeeze. "Ready," he murmurs, face turning red as you gradually push a finger into his hole.

"Relax, Simon," you coax, your index halfway in him as he holds your hand a little too tight for you to know he's comfortable. "You're okay, baby, promise."

Ghost cracks open one eye, staring at you. Relaxing - just a tiny, tiny amount. His voice is husky and shy. "Hurts."

"It'll feel better in just a minute, sweetheart." Reassure him. Kiss the scar on his ribs. Wait until he calms down then ever so gently pushing the finger in all the way; thumb stroking his knuckles when he groans quietly.

You're endlessly patient, letting him take as long as he needs to to adjust before topping up the lube on a second finger and carefully easing it in, pressing delicate kisses to his jaw and muttering praises in his ear; "doing so well, baby. Won't go faster than you want me to, love."

He rewards your care with half-held back moans and grunts, eyes opening every few moments just to check it's still you, hips bucking a little when he's ready for a third finger. And you give it to him, hesitating when he lets out one small sob; but then he whines a quiet "please," free hand nudging your arm to let you know it's alright.

Working gently to scissor him more than loose enough, terrified at the idea of hurting him, reassuring him it's okay when he asks if he can touch himself using as few words as possible. Easing him onto his side when he's prepped properly, facing each other cuz you know he'd hate any other position.

You put lube onto your cock; he watches, cuddling his head into your shoulder and his hands now tracing patterns onto the skin of your chest. You kiss his cheek, forming eye contact.

"Are you sure you want this?" You check, making sure he actually thinks for a moment before nodding. Your lips connect with his and you pull your hips together, groaning as he uses his own hand to put your dick into him. Giving him time to adjust before he's kissing your neck impatiently, big arms tenderly wrapped around you and little whimpers leaving his mouth that he needs you to move.

Rocking your hips into him, mixed moans filling the room, making sure to comfort and praise him and remind him to take care of himself as well. When he does, he's quick to cum all over yours and his stomachs, whining and pulling your bodies even closer.

"You want me to pull out when I cum, Si?" you ask, not stopping as you tilt his chin up to face you. He nods, smiling softly at being given the option. You slide out of him, kissing away his half-hearted complaints until you groan and thick white ropes of cum spurt from your cock, mixing with his on both your bodies, leaving the two of you panting and holding each other, sharing kisses every few seconds.

After several moments of just lying there, Simon grumbles and shifts uncomfortably. "'M all sweaty," he huffs, nuzzling his face into your chest even so. You run a hand through his hair, thinking. He pipes up again. "M' legs all shaky." You smirk knowingly.

"Want me to carry y-" he cuts you off with an eager nod. Cheeky bastard didn't even let you finish the sentence. Nevertheless, you haul his large frame into your (thankfully) strong arms, taking him into the bathroom and setting him down on the edge of the tub. "Bath?" He shrinks into himself a little at the exposure, but hums in agreement. Still vulnerable. Still scared.

You turn on the taps, getting the right temperature before sitting on the bathmat on the floor. Si slides down to curl up in your lap, clinging to you and scattering kisses along your jaw. When the bath is full enough, you let him get in after you. Keep him feeling secure. You hold his hand to steady him as he steps into the water and lays down. Cradle him in your arms, palming water through his hair and washing the half-dried cum off both your bodies.

Towelling yourself off afterwards as he does the same with his own; looking away when he asks you to. Changing into soft pyjamas that make him look as if he was never military at all, just your sweet, pretty Simon who loves you so, so much. He leads you by the hand back to bed, helping you quickly change the sheets before crawling under the duvet, cuddling up, his head snuggled into your chest.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Not A Hero Just A Good Man

Simon Riley x Reader (probably ooc) Simon's home from deployment and he needs his spouse Fluff and very slight hurt/comfort Should be gn!reader, if I messed up anywhere please tell me There is mentions of a girly bodywash that is owned by the reader but... anyone can own those

"I need you to understand that I'm not the nice one out there, luv. I'm not the good cop. I'm not the hero."

You're sitting next to Simon on your shared bed, he's still in his gear, but his mask is in his hands and he's absent mindedly grabbing and rubbing at it.

"Luv, if you knew only half the stuff I've done. The absolute horrendous things I've done to people. And I'd do them again. And I will do them again."

He's growing distressed. His brows are drawn together and his rubbing over the skull part becomes harsh. He'll hurt himself at this rate.

So you get up and kneel down before him, force yourself into his view. Your hands oh so gently take the mask from his and the care with which you put it onto his nightstand chokes Simon up.

You slip your hands into his. He's still wearing his gloves, there's blood all over them.

As he looks down and sees your delicate, perfect hands in his blodied hold, the tears start gathering. He's trying to pull his hands away but you grip him harder. His glistening eyes find yours.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I didn't marry someone who has a nice job or lives in a nice reality."

He's looking to the side trying to avoid your gaze. His hands are still limp in yours, refusing to hold onto you when there's still the gore of his actions clinging to his clothes and his skin.

You're gently easing the gloves off his hands and let them fall to the floor. His knuckles are bloody and split, even under the protective layer.

He swears he lets loose a sob when you bend down to press two soft kisses to the palms of his hands. He's ripping his hands away from you, cradling them to his chest.

"No.", your harsh tone makes his gaze snap back to yours again and when you grab his hands again he reluctantly lets you have them.

"Don't you dare look away from me, Simon Riley." You can see how hard he has to fight to obey your words. You can see his panting breaths get harsher and your grip is so soft, that if he truly didn't want to have you touching him, he could pull away. As if you could ever hold him against his will.

You take one of his hands and press it against your chest, deliberately drawing in deep and steady breaths and waiting until he is following your example.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I married a good man."

You can audibly hear him gulp.

"I married a good man, who is willing to do the ugly work. I married a good man, who gets his hands dirty so the world is just a tiny bit cleaner."

His entire focus is on you as he hangs on to every word you say.

"I married a good man, who does horrible things. But those things need to be done. I'd rather have a good man, like my husband, do them, than someone who doesn't care at all. Someone who finds joy in them. I married a good man. And when you come home, blodied and bruised I will still love you. And when you come home after you did the worst imaginable things, things I don't even know possible, I'll still love you. And when you do horrendous things again, I will still love you. I love you."

He's looking at you and the tears catch in his eyelashes like soft morning dew on the most intricate petals. You have never seen a man more beautiful than your Simon. You have never seen anything more beautiful than the man, he allows you to see through the cracks in his walls.

"Love...", he breathes. And it's reverent, a prayer. As if you are the deity that holds his absolution. As if your words alone can save him from the damnation he suffers.

His hands slowly reach up, cup your cheeks. He's about to pull back when he sees the blood on his hands next to your unblemished face but your hands cover his and you nuzzle into the hold of a killer.

His body bows foreward, into your warmth and his chapped lips fit against yours. As soon as your lips touch he whimpers and your hands find their way to his cheek and neck, holding him close.

You only pull back enough to touch your forehead to his, both of you keeping your eyes closed.

"My Simon.", you whisper into his skin and his arms wrap around you as he lets his head fall to your shoulder, buries his face in your neck and starts shaking.

You grab onto him just as tightly. It's uncomfortable the way you're on your knees half risen to meet him in the middle but you don't care when you start humming and gently swaying.

You don't know if he's crying, probably not, but he's still shaking so you tighten your hold and whisper your love for him into the quiet of your bedroom.

When his breaths start to get quick and shallow again you force him back, cup his face and demand "Simon, look at me."

He does, his gaze is unfocused, and he's panting way too fast, but he's trying to focus on you. He's not too far gone so you check in first "Touch?" He nods in a jerky movement.

Your hands go to his again and you hold both of them to your chest with one, the other one finds his neck and puts gentle pressure there.

"Match my breaths, darling.", you instruct. He obeys.

Today is a good day, as you are able to bring him back from the brink for a second time. Slowly his eyes blink back into awareness and your gentle smile cracks open his ribcage and sets his bleeding heart free.

"There he is. Hi."

"Hi, luv." His voice is horribly rough a splintering sound like old rotten wood breaking apart but he doesn't miss the way your hand on his neck squeezes affectionately.

"Let me give you a shower?" He nods, too tired afer two almost panic attacks to answer. You stand up and offer him a hand which he takes and allows you to pretend to pull him up.

You don't let go of his hand as you pull him into the bathroom, maneuvering him so he can lean back against the sink. You know that he's tired, but you also know that the last thing he needs to see right now is himself, still covered in blood, and you taking care of that mess for him. So you don't give him the opportunity to gaze at the reflection of what's going on in the mirror over the sink.

Once you've eased every piece of armor and clothing off of him, you usher him into the shower, under the warm spray of water before following him.

Once your both under the water, your wrap your arms around him and just hold him. When he sighs you can feel the way his lungs fill up to their limit.

It's a long time before you take the bottle of shampoo into your hands and put some of it in your hands.

"Bend down for me?", you murmur.

Simon gets on his knees before you instead, buries his face in your tummy and relaxes as your hands begin to massage the shampoo into his scalp.

You're careful while rinsing it out and he presses a soft kiss to your tummy before standing up. A thank you and a offering at the altar of the only deity he'll ever worship. Then he's standing again, his hands on your hips, while you begin to lather his body in your own body wash.

You can feel him relax and it doesn't take long before he gives you the gift of his voice, even if it is so say: "Damnit darlin', making me smell like a princess?"

He's grumbling affectionately and you grin. There he is. It's always a good sign when he starts being a grump about stuff he secretly loves. It's always a good sign when he starts with his horrible dry humour.

"No one says that big dangerous men can't be princesses.", you quip back and see the way the corner of his mouth lifts up.

"I'm too manly to smell like...", he squints at the bottle. "Rainbow sunshine." He snorts. "Sounds like something that would come out of a unicorn's ass."

You laugh and slap his chest. "You are the worst, Si. Guess you gotta suck it up and smell like unicorn ass."

"The shit I go through for you.", he grouses and you can hear the grin in his voice.

When you've rinsed him off again he puts his arms around you again and pulls you into him, resting his head on yours.

"Thank you, luv."

"Always, baby."

...

"Now get your unicorn ass out of this shower so I can dry you off and cuddle with you."

He laughs roughly and slaps your backside. "The only one with a magical ass here, is you, luv."

[random0lover]

Her Past Is Their Torture

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst/No Comfort (yet), SFW, talk of death, readers fake funeral is mentioned, fake identity is mentioned, healing wound referenced, A gun is mentioned one time, words "terrorist group" is used once, nothing to serious!

Things to know: reader themself is never referenced looks wise so this is POC friendly! Also if you decide to follow me after reading, READ MY PINNED POST, thank you ♡

Notes: I wrote this in 3 hours after not writing anything for a while, so I hope this is okay! This somehow is getting turned into a mini-series, but I cannot make any promises on how fast each part will come out, but it will be a happy ending!! Kind of proof read but not really so sorry for any errors <3

Part 1 Part 2 (You’re here!)

You were not supposed to be alive. Your heart had stopped while you were lying in the arms of the man you loved but somehow you were alive sneaking your way through the base that you used to call home. 

Today was the day of your funeral, a month after the incident, you knew it would be your only chance to make it onto base to grab a few of your main keepsakes from your room, and no matter how bad of an idea it was, you wanted to stop in Simon’s room one last time. 

Laswell didn't know you were here as far as she knew you were on your way to pick up everything to complete your temporary new identity. A 24-year-old from the States wanting to get some traveling in after completing nursing school before going back home to start their job as an ER nurse. Enough information to satisfy anyone that wanted to have a chat but nothing that would be too memorable. 

Kate was the first person you saw after you woke up in a room that was decorated with floral designs that reminded you of the worn couch that sat in your grandmother's living room until the day she passed away. She told you that your getting shot that night wasn’t a coincidence and that the same people you've spent the last few years running from were once again coming after you.

 Before you became part of Task Force 141 you had previously been part of a different unit, one that now has no evidence of existing after a mission that went haywire. You had all been tasked to eradicate a terrorist group that had supposedly made threats to multiple governments not knowing that you were not the first unit being sent in, that it was a death wish going after them. You and your captain had been the only ones to survive at first until four months later you woke in the middle of the night to a frantic phone call from him saying that they were going to come for you next, the sound of a shotgun being cocked, then the line went dead. Not ten minutes later you had packed a bag and were getting ready to go out the backdoor when you heard your front door being kicked in, if it hadn't been for your captain making that call you would've been dead too.

From that day you spent two years running, going everywhere from China to The United States, to Poland, to Japan, anywhere you could hide until Kate had you staying in the UK which is when she introduced you to Captain John Price and you officially became part of task force 141. Price was the only one that knew your full story until you told Simon but you never got the chance to tell him that you might have to keep running one day. That the people that were after you would only show up to try and kill you to then disappear without a trace until they decided to come after you again.

You had become too comfortable, too hopeful that they were not going to come after you again, that maybe it was all over but the healing bullet wound in your side states otherwise.

You shake your head to get out of your thoughts and continue to make your way through the base while keeping your head down.

~~**~~

This morning you had watched to make sure all of the task force members had left so that you didn't risk running into any of them. You had already been to your room making sure to grab the necklace Soap and Gaz had gifted you on your birthday last year, the little notebook Soap would doodle in when he would sit in your room with you, the t-shirt you had stolen from Simon’s closet, and a coffee mug that Price had jokingly given you that said ���dad’s favorite”. 

You knew it was all pointless stuff but the little things had always meant the most to you especially when it was things that people that were as close to family as you'll get had given you.

Walking through the men's barracks would not be a good idea usually but today they were mostly barren for obvious reasons. You quickly made it to Simon’s room having to resist stopping in Gaz’s room and staying focused. Oddly enough the door was unlocked but you didn’t think much of it, mainly just thanking the stars that you got lucky enough that he forgot.

You make your way into the room gently shutting the door behind you and move until you're standing beside his bed closing your eyes for a moment taking a deep breath, taking in the smell of pine and cedar mixed with notes of vanilla and a small hint of smoke. 

You open your eyes and finally let your eyes drift across the room. The room itself is completely clean not a thing out of place almost as if it hadn't been touched since the morning before that last mission what catches your attention though is the small desk in the corner that is currently the dirtiest you've ever seen it, covered in a few stacks of paperwork, mugs that have dried-out tea bags in them, and not so shockingly your file. It was sitting on top of everything else but you could tell from the creases and a few dirt stains in the manilla folder that it had been opened multiple times and maybe even thrown or dropped a few times. 

You feel in your pocket for the folded note that you had written the night before and pull it out. You stare at it for a moment before opening the folder and sliding it in between some papers at the bottom of the stack hoping that he’ll find it. As soon as you close the folder you hear some voices coming down the hallway and make your way towards his closed closet waiting to see if you’ll need to hide. You hear the voice fade and let out the breath you were holding until you see the door handle turning and frantically throw yourself into the closet hiding behind his clothes and trying to shut the door.

Simon comes into your view for a moment and you see him looking around the room, you hear him let out a sigh before taking a deep breath and you see his body go rigid, you freeze hoping he didn’t hear you, and hear him sniff again almost as if he smells something weird. He turns towards the closet and you can see his eyes settle on the door, you want to slap yourself for not making sure to close it all the way and suck in a breath as he takes a step forward reaching out to open the door but before he can you hear his door open again.

“You got that file you were looking for Lt.?” Soap asks from the doorway.

Simon looks at the closet door one more time before turning to the desk and grabbing the file, “Yeah Johnny, let’s go.” 

You wait in the closet for another five minutes before you decide that it’s safe to venture out and quickly make your exit, locking the door behind you before you sneak off base. 

As soon as you reach your car the burner phone that was in the center console starts ringing the screen saying ‘GREEN’ in big bold letters meaning that it’s Kate. You pull out the phone and answer it while starting the car. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

 “I'm almost there Kate, I’ll be there soon. Promise.” You sigh before hanging up.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the second part to Open Wounds and War Paint! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. &lt;3

As of right now I have a few requests, but requests are open! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

[tomurderornottomurder]

sleeper; ghost/simon riley

pair. simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

summ. you fall asleep on ghost's shoulder, he doesn't know how to react

gen. fluff, angst

tw. mentions cod typical violence themes and topics, sleep deprivation, trust issues

wc. 1k

note. recovering from top surgery and this man has infected my brain i love him <3

- it had been a long mission. a 78-hour mission to be exact. all 78 hours stuck in a sniper's nest all for one target. but that's a part of your job and at least you had ghost to take shifts with and soap watching your and ghost's six. plus ghost and soap's banter had kept you quite awake and entertained.

- though there were those long moments where you all had to keep quiet and hold your breath. those moments that lasted for hours where you just had to stare through your scope in hopes your target would pop his head out. those moments where you were ready to just jump from the roof.

- but there were also your little breaks with ghost where you two momentarily stepped down the stairs to stretch out before switching places. ghost and you would share a look or two and sometimes soap would chime in over comms usually teasing one or both of you. you'd both roll your eyes before taking your places again.

- there was also ghost's terrible sense of humor and soap's incomprehensible accent. but through it all, you made it. and maybe those things are endearing about them. just a little bit.

- basically, it was a long mission. and you were extremely tired. so was soap who was already passed out sitting across from you on the plane and you knew ghost had to be though he didn't show it. he never did.

- you'd seen him sleep before on those week and month or more long missions. but it was almost rare. he always seemed to be the last to fall asleep, like he had to be. but you had seen him sleep. it wasn't exactly anything special, he looked like any of the other guys sleeping but it was nice to see him get some rest.

- you, too, had that habit of needing to be the last asleep. at least usually. you could go without sleep far longer than most of the squad. and that habit is what gave you the rare view of a sleeping ghost. again, it wasn't exactly anything special but it was a nice sight. it helped you sleep, too, knowing that he could. you trust his instincts and if he felt safe so could you.

- but back to the present. soap snores from the other side as you slowly blink, trying to keep awake just till you get back, you think. but it's not working. not at all. the hum of the plane mixed with your lack of sleep in the past three days, the presence of two of your closest and most trusted friends, and the mind-numbing boredom taking over hit you like a train.

- you kept blinking, trying to keep yourself awake but you couldn't fight it anymore. you gave in to sleep, closing your burning and dry eyes, immediate relief flooding your body. soon after that, your body slumps a little, leaning onto ghost.

- as soon as your head touches his shoulder, he looks over at you. he's not expecting you to be passed out on his shoulder and he's actually at a bit of a loss. he doesn't want to wake you, you deserve the rest but he isn't the greatest at dealing with social interaction. especially an interaction where someone is so close to him (and he's not stabbing them with a knife or gunning them down).

- at first, he tries to ignore it sort of, just sit there and let you rest without acknowledgment and keeping his eyes forward and on soap who somehow is just peacefully snoring away. then again he thinks it's better this way, soap would just tease him or say something stupid (which really aren't that different from each other).

- then, seeing as the only other person around beside you and him is asleep, he looks at you for a little while. ghost thinks it's nice to see you sleep. he knew you were just like him, able to go forever without sleep, and yet in this moment you were slumped against him. he knew you had seen him sleeping before. he knew that some nights, long nights where he could hear you unable to stop moving around or just audibly unable to sleep that you'd watch him, the rise and fall of his chest, and after a little while you, too, could finally fall asleep. he wondered why. he hadn't noticed you do the same with anyone else. so why him?

- he knew probably too much but he couldn't answer his own questions. he didn't feel like he could ask you for some reason. like leaving it unanswered was better. for the both of you. more for himself. it was difficult being close to people. he wouldn't want to get too close too fast though now that he thought about it, he hasn't thought the same about soap or anyone else on the squad really—just you. for some reason.

- ghost looks back over to soap who is still asleep, thank heavens, and then back at you again. he turns away before the pilot can announce that you'll all be back in three hours.

- ghost sighs and turns to you yet again before accepting his fate. this shouldn't be so bad. you're just sleeping on his shoulder.

- you trust him enough to sleep on his shoulder.

- that hits ghost like a ton of bricks. he trusts you too of course but- he's gotta let it sink in and he does, pondering in silence as his two partners sleep soundly.

- he won't go to sleep himself. he never can that easily but for another reason too. to protect you and johnny. make sure the plane lands where it's supposed to, you get where you're supposed to, and no possible stowaways could surprise any of you.

- so, he gets a little more comfortable -just a bit- as much as he can with you on him and settles in for the plane ride. he is still on alert -as he almost always is- but he smiles beneath that mask of his as you seem to scoot just a little closer. he can't help it. and it's not like anyone else would see it.

[enbyonmandalore]

Test The Limits (Reader Insert Version)

Ghost & König x gender neutral reader (no y/n)

Rating: NSFW 18+

Word count: this is a long one (that's what she said, ha!)

Warnings: begging, *light* bondage/restraining, brat taming, choking, degradation/name calling, dom/sub behavior, edging, gagging, humiliation, masks stay ON, masturbation, oral (M recieving), tiny bit of overstimulation, penetrative sex, potential hate-fucking, size difference, some brief violence typical for the CoD franchise, threesome, unprotected sex, voyeurism?, characters act absolutely fucking feral, reader's genitalia is not described

Summary: Smut. Absolute filth without much plot. Ghost has enough of your attitude and decides to fuck it out of you; him and König end up taking turns on you.

A/N: This is my first time writing anything about CoD MW2 aaand also my first time attempting to write a threesome. Certain parts of dialogue and phrases are inspired by u/badjhur on reddit. Sometimes the POV kinda switches, I hope you don't mind. I've been going wild for König lately and I'm trying to bring my thoughts to paper. Enjoy!

________________________________________________________

Test The Limits

"Argh fuck!", you shouted in frustration as your face hit the floor. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley pinned you down with his entire body weight, twisting your dominant hand onto your back, your other hand squashed underneath your own body. You'd fucked up. Again.

"Stop being so easy to pin.", Ghost said harshly. "If I were the enemy you'd be dead by now."

"Lasted longer than last time, though", you reminded him nonchalantly and coughed as he took some of his weight off of your back, letting you catch a proper breath.

"Still not good enough", he retaliated, adding something under his breath. "Fuckin' brat..."

"What did you just call me?", you snapped and turned around as much as you could. The Lieutenant didn't move. With some more struggling you managed to free yourself from under him, scootching away and staring daggers at him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you opened your mouth to complain, but the Lt. raised a finger in your direction as a warning.

"Behave."

"Oh for god's sake, Lt., I'm just as much a member of this damn task force as you are. Price called me in for a reason and you know it. You-"

Ghost didn't let you finish your sentence. Instead he grabbed you by the ankles and yanked you towards him, scraping your elbows against the floor of the sparring ring. Now he towered over you, his arms caging you in on either side, a knee between your legs, restricting any further movement.

"I said behave.", he growled.

"Get. Off. Of. Me.", you said slowly and clearly, your tone stone cold.

But Ghost didn't budge. His icy blue eyes still fixated on you, as if expecting an ambush. That's when you felt it. You felt him press up against you and with mere inches between your bodies, there was less than a little room for speculations. The air seemed to thicken with tension over the next few seconds as you just stared in disbelief. Finally, as he hit a sensitive spot, you flinched.

"Stop that!", you protested.

"You wanna tap out, Luv? Scared you're gonna lose?", Ghost replied, ignoring you and continuing to grind against your crotch.

"Ngh- No! Just stop moving like that!"

"Like what?", he paused and you thought you saw him raise an eyebrow, "This?"

"F-fuck...!", you gasped as he full on rutted his hips against yours. You tugged at his shirt, but that changed nothing.

"This... This is hardly a fair fight, Lt. Let go!"

"Never said it was gonna be fair.", the Lieutenant clarified. "Besides, if you would just ask nicely I might let go, eh? You bloody brat."

Humiliating you even further, Ghost flipped you onto your stomach again with ease. "You're making this too easy." Between strained breaths and frustrated struggling, you managed to growl: "At least take the damn knife off my back."

Ghost's dry chuckle made your entire body stiffen at once. "That ain't no combat knife you're feeling there, Luv..."

Oh.

Oh.

Once it finally clicked in your head, his entire behavior made sense. Jesus H. Christ, he was doing it on purpose.

"Come on, operator, get up", Ghost taunted, pulling you to your feet, "See what you've been rubbing up against all fucking night."

You bared your teeth at him out of pure instinct. The movement was so quick you felt your bottom lip split open and tasted blood.

"You're so goddamn full of yourself!"

"Quite the opposite.", the Lieutenant replied and took a step forward. You refused to back down. Ghost's gaze locked onto yours, analyzing you. He reached behind himself and revealed a ziptie, pulling it tight around your wrists within a split second, pushing you against the wall behind you. You were speechless.

"W-what the fuck, Lt.?", you finally managed to sputter.

There was nothing you could do - exhausted from sparring, backed against a wall and your hands were quite literally tied. To say you were in a jam would be a tremendous understatement. A hand traveled to your throat, applying pressure and enforcing eye contact.

"Who do you think you are? Who gave you permission to act like a sour fucking tart, hm? What is your problem?" Ghost looked you up and down. "Look where that's gotten you."

"Could ask you the same bloody question!", you spat, seeking any sort of leverage on Ghost's wrist to prevent him from potentially choking you out. He just stared, condescendingly. "Eversince I got here, you've been looking at me like you're a starving dog and I'm some sort of fucking treat."

Ghost's eyes narrowed dangerously, maybe there was a sadistic smile under that mask, but you'd never know for sure. When he spoke, his voice was low and gravelly.

"Consider this punishment... or consider this me spoiling your bratty behavior. You can still tap you, Love, but once we get started, there's no turning back."

"Oh so you think it's that easy to get in my pants, then?", you chuckled dryly, thankful for the dim light concealing the fact that you might be blushing. "Do your fucking worst, then."

"Very well."

Ghost didn't wait a second longer, he grabbed you by the neck and spun you around, slamming your chest into the wall. His hands slid down your sides, all the way to your belt. You didn't need to look - the sound of the quick-release clasp coming undone was enough to prepare you for what would come next. Once again you were thankful he didn't see your face or the excited grin plastered across it. Ghost pulled down your uniform pants and undershorts in once go, helping you lift your feet to fully get rid of the pants.

"Well, well...", he muttered, his gloved hands back on your body, thumbs caressing the dips in your hips. "Bloody amazing figure you got, soldier."

You could almost feel his breath on your skin, that's how close he'd gotten. You skin tingled where he touched it. When the Lt. pressed himself against your ass, you could barely contain an excited whimper. He turned you back around to face him, shoving a knee between your thighs and pinning you to the wall on your tiptoes, hands above your head. Fuck, that felt amazing. Never in a million years had you ever imagined to enjoy being overpowered by a man like this...to be turned on by it.

It caught you off guard when he suddenly dropped you, taking two steps back. Your ass hit the cold concrete floor, your bindings snapping as you scramble to cover yourself. Reality check. You could feel a new pair of eyes lingering on your skin and turned your head in that direction so fast it almost made you dizzy. A shadowy figure loomed in the doorway.

"König", Ghost's voice broke the silence, "What a bloody fuckin' surprise."

He closed the distance between himself and the other soldier in only a few steps, grabbing a fistful of König's shirt and yanking him all the way into the room. You heard König stutter something unintelligible, Ghost not even bothering to respond to him.

"Just in time.", Ghost announced to neither of you in particular. "I was about to teach our new teammate a lesson and now you both and learn one at the same time."

He let go of König, glaring at you still cowering on the floor. König instinctively raised his hands, attempting to appear non-threatening as he towered over both of you.

You slowly regained your composure, still acutely aware that your lower half was exposed. What you also noticed, was that König had closed his eyes underneath the sniper hood - the eyeholes were completely black now, as if he wasn't even there. You shifted around until you were at least in a less awkward position. This did not go unnoticed by the Lieutenant.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Sir", König spoke, "I only heard commotion..."

When Ghost did not answer, he continued rambling, obviously flustered. "I- I can walk back out and this never happened, okay? I didn't even see anything-"

"No.", Ghost interrupted, "You both have had problems staying focused lately and you've become liabilities to the entire team. So, to help you get it together, you are going to practice following orders. Right fucking now."

You exchanged a nervous glance with König.

"Hey", Ghost barked in your direction. "Eyes on me. Don't look at him, he's not gonna help you."

As soon as your gaze had focused back on Ghost, the Lieutenant continued his angry speech: "You aren't very quiet going about your business, König, and you", he glared at you, "You talk in your sleep."

In that moment the realization that Ghost had heard something definitely not meant for his ears hit both König and you. You hadn't known you talked in your sleep, much less that Ghost had apparently been within earshot while you slept. And if you weren't mistaken, you could see the awkward shift in König's posture as well. What on earth had Ghost heard him say - or do?

Ghost's hand shot forward and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you into a kneeling position, your hands on his wrist to steady yourself. Then Ghost nodded towards a chair against the back wall of the room.

"Operator, sit down. And don't move."

Wordlessly, König followed the Lt.'s order. As soon as he had sat down, Ghost returned his attention to you. You felt his cold stare basically penetrate your skin and set it on fire...

"You. Up.", he ordered and you complied. Ghost then moved the both of you closer to König, right in the middle of his field of vision. Your heart was racing by now. What was he doing?

"On your knees, soldier."

You watched as Ghost positioned himself in front of you, your back facing König. He stepped closer and you now made direct eye contact with the considerable bulge in the Lieutenant's pants. Instinctively you gulped. Shit, was he really about to make König watch as you gave him head?

Apparently the answer to that was Yes.

It could have been your imagination, but you swore you heard the faintest sigh of relief as Ghost undid his belt, unzipped the fly and pulled out his fully erect cock. The size of which both startled and excited you. With one hand he lifted your chin while the other, slowly and almost carefully snaked around to the back of your head.

"Now, Love, you are gonna suck my cock and do it well, understood?"

You answered immediately, a grin tugging at your lips. "Don't be shy, I can take it, Lt."

Next thing you knew, Ghost forced open your mouth with his thumb and shoved his cock inside. You fought your gag reflex, his cock was really testing the limits of what you found yourself capable of. You carefully started bobbing your head, hands gripping Ghost's thighs for support, working your tongue around the fat tip, sucking on it before taking more of his cock down your throat. You'd never believe it if you weren't hearing it yourself, but Ghost -stone cold as he usually was- was a horny rambler.

"That's it...", he pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch a breath; maintaining eye contact the entire time. "Oh, fuck- You see that? That perfect ring of spit on my cock..."

You swallowed thickly between breaths and gave the Lieutenant a crooked smile. Provocatively you licked your bottom lip and glanced up at him.

"You can do it, yeah, open wide", he said, his voice low and breath ragged, before guiding your head back down his cock. You could taste the precum now and each time he hit the back of your throat you felt the knot in your own stomach tighten.

"Ah God, f-fuck!", Ghost moaned and gripped your head with both hands, holding it in place. He momentarily tore his gaze away from you to look at König. "Enjoying the show?"

"Gott, Scheiße...", König panted and bucked his hips in a futile attempt to feel something, anything. Oh, he needed to be touched. He wanted to fuck both you and Ghost and it was pure torture to sit there, hands behind his back and not allowed to move as you took Ghost's dick so eagerly. God he wished that were him. He felt his own hard-on throb with every sound your mouth made and with every word of praise from Ghost. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagined what it your feel like to pin the Lieutenant against a wall and kiss him, right before fucking him so hard the wall might crack. What it would feel like to have you on top of him, a spiteful smirk on your face as you ruthlessly rode him like there was no tomorrow, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips...

"Bloody hell, love, you're taking me so well", Ghost sputtered as he thrust himself into your mouth. "Come on... promise I'll make this worth your while."

You held onto his thighs for dear life as tears and spit ran down your face, accompanied by messy, lewd gagging sounds.

"That's it, that's it- Ohh FUCK"

His breath caught in his lungs as his cock pulsed, emptying his load down your throat. Fighting the urge to gag, you swallowed, gripping Ghost's leg so hard it might bruise. With an exhausted, guttural moan Ghost finally let go and you fell backwards, gasping for air.

Ghost recovered from his high quickly, barely giving you the chance to wipe the drool off of your face before dragging you to a large storage crate. He turned you around, his chest pressed against your back, and sat down, effectively pulling you onto him as he lay down on the crate. You watched as he removed his gloves. Your entire body was tingling with arousal by now and being thrown around like a rag-doll wasn't helping. You felt the blood rush between your legs and you were almost certain Ghost knew. He nudged your legs further apart with his own.

"You really can take me, love.", Ghost growled into your ear, grabbing your jaw from behind and turning your head towards König. "Now how 'bout him?"

"Haah- please-", you whimpered and squirmed in his iron grip. You were becoming more desperate by the second, you needed to be touched - or even better: railed into oblivion.

Ghost's icy eyes fixated on König and the other soldier froze in his chair.

"Your turn, operator", the Lieutenant said with a nod.

König stood up slowly, having to concentrate on every move as he approached Ghost. God, it was such a pretty sight to see you so sprawled out and desperate...so pretty.

"Fuck them. That's an order!"

"Y-Yessir!", König replied and quickly undid his pants with trembling hands.

You gasped upon seeing König's size. He was probably larger than the Lt. in every goddamn aspect. Would that thing even fit? Standing between your open legs, he almost hesitantly lay a bare hand on your thigh and lightly pressed his fingertips into your skin and you whimpered once again. Ghost still held your jaw tightly, watching König like a hawk.

As if to reassure himself that this was what you wanted, König sought eye contact. He stroked himself a couple of times first, before lining his hard cock up with your entrance. You gave him a meek nod and practically started begging as his tip nudged against your hole.

"Fucking hell, please! Please just fuck me, König, please please please!"

König felt his cock twitch in his hand at the sound of your voice - like music to his ears. "Don't...", he whispered, barely audible, "Don't stop begging."

"Please~ Please fuck me already, big boy", you pleaded and that did it for him. Without further hesitation he pushed his cock inside you and barely managed to contain the animalistic, desperate moan building in his throat as he bottomed out. You wanted to throw your head back, but Ghost's shoulder was in the way, so you turned your face to the side, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut. A cold shiver ran down your spine as Ghost whispered praise into your ear again. "Come on... Good. Take all of him."

And as König set a pace to his thrusts, small whines and moans spilled from your lips.

"Ah- Yes...fuck... König, fuck- ngh"

König was enormous. He spread you open like nothing ever had before. No doubt you'd feel him for days. You could feel him in your guts, it was relentless, stretching you open and filling you so completely you couldn't think around it, couldn't do anything but cling to Ghost's hand and whine.

"Ah, sh-shit! More, please...", König demanded, underlining each word with a thrust so hard you almost cried out in pain.

"Yessir!", you groaned, slurring all the other words, "Ah- Yes, fuck me hard, I need this! Oh fuck-"

"Oh yeah, you like this, huh?", König answered your desperate cries. Ghost joined in on the taunting. "You like getting fucked by two big men, 's that it? That's why you've been acting like a fucking brat? Answer me!"

"Ahng- yes- Yessir!"

"You little tease...", König panted, his eyes cast downward, watching himself disappear inside you over and over and over.

Fucking hell... Ghost couldn't take his eyes off of the scene. König brutally slamming into you, your half-naked body on top of him. Grinding against him with each and every one of König's thrusts. And the sounds - God! Your choked, breathy moans and cries and König's deep, desperate sighs caused Ghost's heart to race. He could feel his cock beginning to harden again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he let it happen. He felt your hot breath on his hand and tightened his grip on your lower jaw, bringing his other hand up to your lips and pushing past them. He was relieved you understood the objective, as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, coating them in saliva just like you'd done with his cock moments before.

You arched your back as König repeatedly hit your sweet spot. You cried out in pleasure, begging him not to stop as you careened towards your high.

"Greedy, are we? You gonna behave for us, hm?", Ghost teased, swiping his thumb across your lips. Your eyes fluttered as you nodded vigorously.

Under you, Ghost tensed up as your ass pressed against his cock. He felt like he was about to go insane from the stimulation so shortly after his last orgasm. König gripped your hips, holding on for dear life as he chased his own high. He'd given up on trying to suppress his moans, letting you hear every sweet sound spilling from his lips.

"I'm close, so close", König stammered through gritted teeth, "Can't- Can't hold it much longer, ngh!"

You were quick to answer, speech slurred and a fucked-out expression on your face. " 'S okay! Ah- Cum with me!"

A choked moan ripped from your throat as he thrust all of himself into you. His voice gave out and his head fell backwards. You saw stars as you came undone on his cock, clenching around him. You felt him pulse, shooting his load and coating your insides with his cum.

For a moment everyone was quiet, your ragged, out-of-sync breaths the only thing disturbing the silence.

You gasped in surprise when you suddenly had Ghost's hands on your waist, pushing you down onto both his and König's dick, drawing a startled mewl from the other man. Ghost felt himself spill his seed between your sweat-soaked bodies, a deep moan rattling in his chest.

It took a moment for Ghost to come to his senses again. When he did, König had already taken a few steps back and zipped up his pants. He lifted you off of him and searched his pockets for a rag or tissue to clean the both of you up.

"That's all it took you to behave. A nice, fat cock.", he chuckled to himself.

"I think we made quite a lot of noise. We should leave before someone else comes investigating strange noises on base.", König suggested and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "If... If you want to go again, you know where to find me."

"Yeah", you agreed with a tired smile. "Better make ourselves scarce."

_________________________________________________________

This fanfiction is property of @enbyonmandalore (Tumblr). I do not own any of the characters associated with the Call Of Duty franchise. Do not repost/crosspost on other accounts or websites, edit, translate or otherwise change this piece of writing. Rebloging is fine, reposting is not.

[callofloony]

Puppy dog. (Ghost x gn!reader oneshot)

—————

Tags: Fluff, fluff, all the fluff, small misunderstandings, angst and insecurity too? Maybe?? Ghosts insecurity. As a treat !! Clingy Ghost, no use of y/n.

A/N: Ouyghhu im havin thoughts,, i meant for this to just be a drabble but my brain said “ha! fuck you!!!” so im gonna write abt it, ty 💞💞

~ Fic under the cut ~

—————

You throw your jacket over your shoulder with a slight sigh, stretching your arms for a moment before grabbing your bag. You needed to go to the store for a bit to grab some things for dinner, it was supposed to be a quick trip, so you didn’t think to tell anyone, not even your boyfriend. Simon.

“Love, what are you doing?” He asked from atop the stairs, he’d been in the shower, and you were going to send him a text when you got in the car. You didn’t even realize he’d gotten out. You flash him a smile, continuing to throw your clothes on.

“I’m heading out in a minute, need some stuff for dinner,” You replied a moment after, grabbing your keys right after. “Did you need something?”

Simon pauses for a moment, his hair was still damp, and he had minimal clothing on, just some pajama shorts he’d thrown on after showering. He hadn’t intended on going out after, but…

“…Can I come with?” He questioned simply while walking down the stairs to meet you, head tilted, and eyes big like a dog. The same eyes you’d fallen for long ago.

These words shocked you a little, you knew Simon didn’t generally like going out much, he’d run errands and go out for missions, but he preferred staying home and being with you, if he had the choice. So to hear he wanted to come with you, even for something as simple as this? It made you smile.

“Alright, puppy… Go get dressed,” You replied teasingly, making him blush a bit, corners of his mouth twitching into a faint smile as he held back a soft laugh.

“Could’ve just said yes…” He stated with faux annoyance, turning around to head back upstairs and throw on some clothes. His response made you smile a little wider.

People always thought you had scary dog privileges, like Simon was your body guard you hired off the military because of his steely gaze, and multitude of scars.

In actuality, you had loyal puppy privileges. Where Simon would cling, and follow you around everywhere, no matter where you two were going. It was his way of making sure you weren’t going to leave, and never come back. Of course, he still gave you personal space, but he didn’t want to lose you, never.

A few minutes later, he comes back down stairs dressed back up, a fabric mask on his face, some jeans, and his signature hoodie. It was a little chilly after all.

You smile and gently grab his hand, caressing his knuckles with your thumb for a moment before taking the two of you to the car. You drive, for obvious reasons… But you didn’t mind having him as passenger princess. This was just one of the ways you got to spoil him even when he refused.

You both make it to the store, and you two hop out of the car, making your way inside of the store with Simon trailing a bit behind you. But your hands never lose one another’s grip. The sight is a bit of a spectacle, but no one dared say anything, especially as your hands were linked together.

You’ve been shopping for about ten minutes now, you only have a few more items you need to grab, so you both decide to split up to make it go easier, your fingers falling away from one another as you both walk off, and that’s when people start to turn heads.

You head into another isle, looking for the vegetables you were supposed to grab, when Simon turns the corner and spots you, and decides to trail behind you, wanting to sneak up and startle you. He doesn’t get that far though.

Someone looks at the two of you concerned and taps your shoulder, Simon is confused but doesn’t say anything, hoping he can still fulfill his plan of spooking you a little.

“Uhm, excuse me? Is this guy bothering you?” The stranger asked in a whisper, gesturing to Simon with a stern and worried look on their face, making you turn your head in worry, only to find your boyfriend staring back at you.

He groans heavily in slight annoyance, making you chuckle, the stranger looks confused before you grab his hand and kiss his forehead, making it very clear what his intentions were now, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks.

“I appreciate it, but he’s my boyfriend,” You replied, making the stranger blush in embarrassment before mumbling an apology and walking away. You both paid for your items and left, giggling about the interaction on the way home.

“It’s sweet they were worried,” He started, letting out soft chuckles while replaying the interaction in his head. “But did they not see us holding hands before?”

“I know, right?” You replied while pulling into your shared driveway, you found a bit of comfort knowing that stranger was willing to help, but you also found it a little ridiculous after finding out it was just your sweet puppy boyfriend, who’d never lay a finger on you.

“The nerve,” Simon continued in a joking tone, grabbing your hand and swiftly pulling down his mask to place a gentle kiss to your lips, giggling through it. “How dare they.”

You giggled with him and started unloading the groceries, he never left your side throughout the whole process, even as you two were cooking. Laughing and joking around with one another. He was always so loving…

No wonder why he was your puppy.

A/N: Babies babies. BABIESSS 💞💞 AUYGAHH I LOVE THIS MAN. I LOVE SOFT GHOST :[[[ hope you enjoyedddd sorry if the ending was a little anti climactic, im starting to run out of writers juice aaaa >:[[ but still !! Not my worst performance! BYE BYE

[statusexile]

You Know What I Deserve? Dessert!

Summary: It’s your birthday and Ghost have agreed to become your dessert for the night.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: pwp, gender neutral reader, dom!Ghost, degradation, dirty talking, food play, mask kink, fellatio, nasty-slash-messy-slash-fun stuff in general.

Word count: 741 words

NSFW. MDNI!

a/n: The title is an excerpt from Dessert by HYO and now I’ve ruined that song forever. I apologize in advance if you like that song lmao. As always, feedback and suggestions are always appreciated, along with reblogs and likes. Thank you for reading! ❤️

This is a corresponding story to You Know What He Deserves? Dessert!

It’s your birthday and the only thing that you want on your special day is Ghost, naked, wearing nothing but his balaclava and dog tags. So, he did what you asked him to do.

Now he’s sitting fully naked on the loveseat in the bedroom that both of you share, sprawling in all his glory. You have the privilege of indulging in the exquisite allure of his tall, tanned and muscular body, complete with refined thighs and impeccably sculpted abs. All yours to devour for the night. You could see the tip of his cock already leaking with precum, made it look more delicious to you.

You went to the kitchen to get a bottle of whipped cream and chocolate syrup for a bit. You grab them with excitement, the promise of a delicious dessert made your mouth waters, and you make your way back to the bedroom, a sense of anticipation building within you. You’re going to devour this man tonight like he’s the most delicious thing on this earth.

You take a seat on the floor, facing his throbbing, rock hard member. The sight of them sends a shiver of excitement throughout your body. As you put a swirl of whipped cream on the tip of his cock, then drizzling it with chocolate syrup, you could see it drips down to the rest of this shaft. Your eyes fixate upon them as if it’s the most delectable dessert about to grace your palate.

You lick the base of his cock first, using your tongue to play with his balls. The taste of the salt of his skin mixed with the sweet chocolate syrup made you even more turned on. Slowly grazing your tongue upward, licking his thick, veiny shaft like a candy. Ghost let out a guttural, aggressive groan to the act as you finally start licking the tip of his cock very slowly, tasting the whipped cream on top of it. Ghost throws his head back as the intense sensation coursing through his body.

You finally finished lapping the entire condiments clean from his cock, but that’s not enough for you, so you put even more whipped cream and chocolate syrup on his shaft, basically drenching it with condiments at this point. “Happy fucking birthday to me” you muttered to yourself and engulfing his entire length in one go, nearly choking on it because of how gargantuan the size of his cock was.

You slowly bobbing your head as you suck his cock, the whipped cream and chocolate syrup dripping all over your clothing and your lap, smearing your entire lips and jaw with them. Ghost suddenly gripped your hair, pushing his cock even deeper inside your mouth. The sudden action made you almost choke again as he keeps deepthroating you over and over again like you are his personal little fuck toy.

“Enjoying your birthday so far, you nasty little fuck?” he said with a venomous tone in between his groans and moans that’s echoing throughout the room. You could only nod to his words as he keeps slamming the back of your throat continously. You could feel tears start streaming down your cheeks.

His thrusts start to become more erratic and sloppier. You could feel his orgasm is so close. It only takes a few more thrusts as he finally cum on the inside of your mouth, mixing his thick white warm cum with the now melted whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

“Swallow it all up” he said in a commanding tone, you tried to swallow it all up but it was too much as you accidentally spit some of it out because you don’t want to choke on it.

“You ungrateful little slut, you better lick it all up, you fucking bitch” he snarls as he suddenly grabbed your hair again, forcefully pressing your face to the floor. His grip is so strong that you have no choice but to obey him, licking the floor that's covered with the mixed liquid until it’s squeaky clean. You stick your tongue out to him as a prove you swallowed it all up.

He suddenly stands up from the sofa, pulling you up from the floor as he dragged and pushed you to bed, taking the whipped cream and chocolate syrup from your hands.

“Take your clothes off. Ass up, face down” he said as he unscrews the cap of each bottle.

“Now it’s my turn to enjoy my dessert.”

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[kivino]

NIGHT TIME BONDING || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X GN!READER

Word counter – ~2k words

Summary – You have a hard time falling asleep. Ghost has the same problem.

Tags/Warnings – gn!Reader, smoking, ooc probably. Not proofread and written in the middle of the night.

A/n – sort of continuation to one of the scenarios I wrote about in this post. Really wanted to write some fluff with Ghost. Please, enjoy!

also available on my ao3

Summer nights were suffocating in this dingy apartment you had to share with your teammates for this undercover mission. Air thick with warmth, sheets tossed aside, it already felt like hours passed as you unsuccessfully tried to fall asleep, tossing around, getting more and more annoyed with each second. You could hear the soft breathing and quiet snoring blending in with the whirring of the fan, which worked in fruitless attempts to make the room feel cooler. You sit up on the bed, deciding to do a small headcount to calm your nerves. You couldn’t sleep anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt.

Your eyes scanned over the dark room with ease, used to the lack of light. There’s John, snoring away on the couch, with his arm carelessly thrown over his eyes. Kyle, half of his body already hanging off the edge of the bed. Captain, who fell asleep on the armchair with a book over his eyes. And finally, Simon is…nowhere to be seen. Naturally.

So, you wander through the darkness to the kitchen, bare feet shuffling over the creaking, old floor.  You see a slumped figure on the balcony through the thin curtains, a soft orange glow barely illuminating any facial features. There he was. You catch yourself letting out an unintentional sigh of relief.

You were never particularly close to Simon in these several months you’ve worked together. Even more than that, you much preferred the company of Kyle, with whom it was a lot easier to converse than with this shadowy entity called ‘Ghost’, stripped from every sign of humanity that could be used against it. Of course, you were curious about him. But not to the point of asking the masked man directly every question that clung onto your mind like a parasite. You’d rather be subtle. You’d rather let everything develop naturally, instead of rushing things, chasing after something unknown. But maybe, this was the opportunity for you to finally…do what, exactly? You weren’t sure.

But still, you approached the balcony on your tiptoes, not to make too much noise, and knocked on the side of the door, before opening it. You didn’t want to startle him. You saw how alert he was all the time. Sitting in the farthest corner of the room, trying not to turn his back too much, looking and listening to everything, all the time. It’s not like you were oblivious. You didn’t need to know the reason behind his behavior to understand it.

Ghost’s head shoots up in your direction, warm, yellowish light from the outside cascading over his face in soft waves. He lazily pulls down his mask so that only his mouth is visible, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander, drinking up every single detail of his appearance that you and the whole team were usually deprived of. Lieutenant’s skin was adorned by a thin scar slicing through the top lip, blond stubble that you could barely see in the low light, and some red irritations that didn’t look that pleasant. Your eyes trail to the outstretched arm that rested on the open window, cigarette between his fingers sending twisting serpents of smoke outside. He was eyeing you now, embers of curiosity dancing in his gaze as he waited for your next move.

“Can I join you?” You ask, crossing your arms over your torso as if trying to protect yourself from his piercing eyes. You didn’t know if he was judging you right this moment, and you didn’t want to find that out.

“I don’t know. Can you?” His voice didn’t need to be loud to boom through the cramped space of the balcony. You raise your brow, but still huff out a puff of air through your nose, slightly amused. “Knock yourself out.” Ghost pats the second stool near him, inviting you to join him. You drag your feet over a layer of thin newspapers laid out on the cold, dirty floor and plop down with a short exhale.

You sit there for a moment, silent. Absorbing your surroundings. The gentle mumble of crickets, songs of the night birds, and no signs of living, breathing people beyond the glass threshold of the window. The usually overwhelming, heavy presence of Ghost now felt more welcoming, even serene. Curious how such things seemed to change drastically during the nightfall.

“Trouble sleeping, sergeant?” Ghost suddenly breaks the silence, bringing the cigarette to his lips. Your eyes locked and for some reason, you didn’t want to look away. That kind of unintentional contact always felt awkward. Now it felt…warm. Comforting. Right.

“You could say that,” You vaguely shrug, not willing to go into details about your sleep schedule and habits. After all, boring your superior to death seemed like an unfortunate way to get kicked out of the task force. “Never took you for the small talk type, lieutenant.” You add hastily and hear him let out a low chuckle, puffs of smoke escaping his lips.

“Call me Simon.” His tone is firm but light-hearted. And with the way he was trying to be quiet, the ring of his voice reminded you of the rumbling right before summer thunderstorms with heavy, lead-colored clouds and whispers of rain that followed with it.

“Right. Simon.” You say his name as if testing the waters, rolling it off the tip of your tongue. You don’t notice the man shuffling in his seat, turning his face towards the window and putting the hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile that softly pulled on his mouth. “Simon. Yeah, I’ll definitely need to get used to this.” It didn’t feel unpleasant saying his name like that, just…unusual. You knew his name, of course you did. And you preferred not to skip formalities, but this crisp night air undeniably clouded your judgment in more ways than one.

“Well, you have all the time in the world until we catch The Bastard with his knickers down.” You didn’t need to clarify who he spoke about. You would rather not get reminded about your target. Who liked getting ice-cold, insistent shivers just thinking about the deeds of their enemy? Certainly not you. Your eyes fell to the floor, desperately clinging onto the rows upon rows of letters in the newspapers talking about politicians, inventors, random TV shows and so, so much more. To think all of this will be gone if you fail felt nauseating, making your stomach sink, worry clawing at your insides. Still, you tried to seem unaffected by the train of thought that suddenly took the wrong turn. And Simon saw right through your attempts to put on a brave face.  

He always saw, but each time he shot down the debate inside his head, choosing not to interfere. Voluntarily sitting back, while observing you working yourself to the bone, dark circles under your eyes becoming more prominent, a cup of coffee or a can of energy drink looking permanently attached to your hand. He never thought of you as someone particularly close or interesting (or more so he tried to convince himself of that), you were nothing but colleagues. However, he still felt something harshly tugging at his chest when you’d choose to pair up with Kyle or Johnny for any work that needed to get done, or that unfamiliar gnawing in his stomach when the two of you were left alone after all. Or that worry, trembling in his chest when you looked a tad bit worse for wear than usual. He never liked those emotions having a go at him when he least expected, tangling inside of him like a ball of vibrant yarn, he never liked getting attached but…He still wanted to trust you. Or at least try to, since it looked like you two are not getting rid of each other any time soon.

“Hey,” You feel Simon gently squeezing your shoulder, immediately getting your attention. The heat started creeping up your body from the sudden touch, the night breeze failing to cool you off. “Don’t worry. We’ll finish him off. Don’t even doubt it.” His voice was firm and something about it managed to calm you down after all. The mission has been taking too much time. You desperately needed the reassurance, slowly losing hope day by day, with each failure taking a major toll on you.

“It’s hard not to doubt it sometimes.” You let out a dry laugh and look up, unsure of when he suddenly managed to lean in so close without you noticing. Your eyes trail around the lower half of his face, eventually captured by the ember of a lit cigarette growing dim between his lips, before it’s carelessly tossed out of the window by him.

“I might not show it, but I appreciate you and the work you’re doing,” He lets that sink in for a moment before continuing quietly. “All of us do.” Simon is not sure if he included the last sentence to put some invisible wall between you two, to at least try to turn this very personal moment into something remotely professional. Without thinking, he slides his hand down your arm and grabs your palm.

You don’t pull away.

“The feeling is mutual…Simon”

And the distance he tried to put between you two is gone within a second, just like that. Even if given thousands of years, he wouldn’t have been able to describe that sweet, saccharine tremble in his chest and the ache in his heart when you said his name like that. It was almost embarrassing, how such a small thing could make him so weak in the knees. Your hand shuffled in his for a moment, and when instead of letting him go your fingers tangled with his…He truly felt like a goner. Simon pulled the mask over the lower half of his face in a weak attempt to conceal what he was experiencing. To hide the storm that raged inside with unbridled force, destroying him from the inside, creating something new, unknown, and terrifying in its obscurity.

Turns out the two of you didn’t heed loud, big words to enjoy the presence of each other like this. Simon sat there, frozen in his place, stiff and rigid, wishing this moment would last forever. Forgetting that you’re just his colleague, forgetting everything that he kept repeating in his mind each time he saw you, and forgetting about everything beyond the small balcony that harbored the two of you in this fleeting serenity. It felt like time here flowed similar to the gentle waves of the cool river water. Or maybe it was you? It felt so bizarre, your eyes slowing down time itself, your touch igniting a fire within him and your fingers manipulating his blood, making it boil in his veins. Simon knew that the moment rays of the morning sun hit your face everything would fade away, leaving him shattered and bitter. He also realized that he was not able to break away from your gentle, warm hold on him. So, it was only up to you to end this. A giant leap of faith.

“Well, I better get some sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow.” You give him the lamest excuse that you could come up with, but Simon still nods. Before this silence, full of purpose and understanding, can escalate any further you reluctantly let go of his hand, clearing your throat and getting up from your spot. He gets it, you don’t have to say it outright for him to know what you mean. You stand in one place for a moment, unwilling to move, adamant to let this moment of tranquility finally end, despite knowing that it will be for the best. So, you have to push yourself just to walk out of the balcony.

“You know what? We need to do this more often.” You turn around and glance at his silhouette from the doorway, taken out of your thoughts. And you see his cheeks stretching the skull on the mask when he says that. He’s smiling.

“Yeah…yeah. You’re right.” You give him a nod. And his words are finally enough for you to feel a pleasant fatigue roll in a gentle wave over your body.  

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[iceman-soup]

gn!reader x 141 (bar roach)

CW - not a gangbang i swear, gaz is ur only bf, harsh biting, blood and injury, not smut but kinky??

Part 2 to this

Okay, sure, you'd called Gaz silly for saying that the others would be jealous of his bite marks. Obviously you didn't expect it to actually happen.

As expected, the gauze and hickeys on your boyfriend's neck (and the best one patched up on his cheek, of course) don't go unnoticed. And, unsurprisingly, your smirk and Kyle's blush quickly let them know that yes, the patches are a result of some kinky shit and not some freak accident. So they don't ask. Just sort of.. look when they think you don't notice.

Until Price breaks the unspoken rule of no questions, no unwanted answers. In his defence - he's perhaps a little more oblivious than Ghost or Soap, and he's concerned about his totally-not-favourite Sergeant. And he probably wasn't expecting your shit-eating grin and Gaz's condescending answer.

"Well, Cap, when two people love each other very much-" he starts, before you cut him off with a snorted laugh at how Price's face turns red. When a recruit eventually asks later too, he responds with an equally condescending smile and just casually says, "bites!"

This continues for a couple days, making you laugh every time at how show-off he's being - although once alone, he's complaining that the gauze itches, and why can't you just take it off already? So you do, finally accepting the wounds have healed enough now. Fuck, that was a mistake.

The boys will not stop trying to touch the bite marks, particularly the deepest one on Gaz's face. Trust your boyfriend to be a cocky dick about it, too, bragging that he "told you so" when you notice them glancing at you more often than usual. Needy fucks, the lot of them.

Price calling you over one day when everyone's together and saying, "Well, its hardly fair to single Sergeant Garrick out, is it?" with his arms folded across his chest and his usual charming smile on his face as you feel a flush rise.

His taunting works wonders and you spend the rest of the day pulling Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz into cupboards and empty rooms just to bite them, then leaving and getting on with whatever you were doing as if nothing happened. Which sort of backfires, 'cause now you have four fully grown men queuing to get patched up since your boyfriend apparently promised that you took care of him after, and their standards are now too high to back down.

So these grown ass men are now following you around like puppies to the first aid kit, then curling up in your lap on the floor as you kiss their wounds and clean them up gently, soothing them as if they're not military when the antiseptic stings.

Gaz is extra clingy, of course, because you're still his partner... but he will admit that he adores seeing your teeth imprinted on the others' skin.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

could you do 141 (+ könig) with a reader who LOVES skincare? Like they have a 14 step routine And they like to drag their partner into it? Would they enjoy being pampered or no? (gn reader or a fem reader, whichever :)

— 🪐

a/n: Hii!!! I’m so sorry I didn’t answer this yesterday, my tumblr deleted all of my writing on it when I had finished it :((

Gaz:

-loves just spending time with you while doing skincare on each other

-especially when you and him are just sitting with face masks on while watching a show or painting each others nails

-simply comforting to him

ghost:

-doesn’t personally like the feeling of things on his face but let’s you test things on him if your not sure about something

-would gladly sit through your entire skincare routine just to feel your soft touch on his face while applying something

soap:

-he HATES stuff like skincare, it’s just icky for him so he doesn’t let you do it on him

-secretly adores seeing your products all neat on your shelves next to his cologne or the smell of your cologne/perfume around the house

-he let you paint his nails once when he was really drunk, just cuz he wanted to spend time with you

roach:

-loves just sitting with you and enjoying your company while you get ready for the night or while doing soft, warming things together like skincare

-enjoys hearing you explain every little thing your doing with him, especially when you apply some on him too

-would probably do anything to spend time with you

price:

-either owns 3 in 1 shampoo or has a pile of beard-care and that’s it? He lets you be in charge of his cologne and products

-doesn’t know how to even apply half the products you get for him. He just sits there and lets you work your magic while humming

-loves when your stuff and his matches

konig:

-it feels so civilian to him, like a little moment of escape from his work and life just to enjoy something small with you

-would gladly make dinner while you lounge on the couch doing some new self-care thing

-love love loves to see your soaps around the house or your skincare. Makes him feel close to you even when your gone doing something

[obsolescent]

Hey!! Next one week I’m getting braces and as someone who has very strong anxiety this has been getting me so much stress and making me feel like complete crap. Could you please write a ghost x reader (gn since I’ve read that’s what you use:) ) trying to help reader just relax or feel better. Something like that would be nice. Love you work, you are amazing take care 🩷

Don't you Fret

Author’s Note: Hi! This is so sweet. This will make my first Ghost x reader piece! I hope you enjoy it and I hope it’s what you were looking for! Also I left this ambiguous on what the procedure is, so if any of you are worried about any kind of upcoming procedure I hope this eases your worries some ♡ Good luck by the way!! You’ll do great :)

Content Warnings: Gender neutral language used, fluff, Simon trying to understand southern slang lol

You stare down at the paperwork in front of you. The contract, consent forms, guidelines, and instructions on what to do in preparation for your procedure next week lay scattered across the coffee table. Your leg is bouncing a mile a minute while you chew on your nail, the reality of it starting to set in. 

To say that you’re an anxious person…Well yeah, you are. It’s even worse when it comes to medical procedures. This ain’t even that extensive of one, but reading the step-by-step process of what will happen, how long it’ll take, and the aftercare is making you pretty antsy. “Ugh,” you groaned, putting your face into your hands.

“You alright, love?” You jumped, twisting around to find Simon standing behind you. “Good lord, felt like my soul left my body,” You gasped out. He snickered, walking around the front of the couch to sit beside you.

He grabs your hand and begins stroking it, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, helping to ease some of your nerves. He glances at the papers laying across the surface in front of you two and asks, “This what’s gotten you on edge?” “An understatement,” You grumbled, “More nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

He stared at you for a moment, face blank, before those blond brows of his started to furrow, brown eyes narrowing. You can almost see the equations floating around his head as he tries to decipher the phrase. “Fucking hell. English, please. Or at least slow down, can’t understand with you talking so fast.” 

“I’m very fucking nervous, alright?” You mock back, a poor attempt at an English accent. He huffs at that, before pulling you into an embrace. “Cheeky,” He muttered into your hair, giving a kiss to your head. You sighed, sinking into his warmth.

You’re so glad to have him home with you at this moment. The two of you always appreciate your time together, but you more so now than usual, with how worried you’ve been.

“Anythin’ I can do to help ease your mind?” He asks, rubbing soothing patterns into your back. You hum, nuzzling your face into his neck, before saying, “Not sure. I feel like crap right now, upset with myself for being so upset. It’s annoying! I wish things like this didn’t bother me, that I could be more like you. It seems like nothing phases you, you’re always so cool and collected.” You sighed, fiddling with the hem on his sweatshirt’s sleeve.

“It’s not like I’m having extensive surgery that’ll have me under for hours!" You exclaimed, making exaggerated hand gestures while speaking. Simon grunts in agreement, “Can’t help what your brain is in shambles over, love.” You sighed again, pulling away to look up at him. 

“Darling,” He said, voice gravelly. He cups your face in both hands. You look into his eyes, finding adoration and warmth. You feel a tingle in your nose, a sign you’re about to start crying. Scrunching your face up, you will the tears away, unsuccessfully. You start to sob, your hands coming up to cover your face. “None of that now,” He says, pulling your hands away, peppering kisses across your tear stained cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You choked out, “I feel pl-plumb stup–” Before you can finish your sentence, Simon is picking you up in his arms. You squealed, latching onto his shoulders as he made his way to your bedroom. He opens the door, walks toward the bed and drops you onto the mattress before plopping himself down beside you. He turns you towards him, bringing you into his warm embrace once again.

“Now then. We’ll stay here as long as we need, yeah? Just let it all out, alright?” He murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. You cling to him, feeling safe and secure in his grasp. Hiccuping, you replied, “Thank you, Simon. Love you.” Your words are muffled by his shirt. He chuckled, pulling back enough to bring you into a kiss. “Love you, too, pet,” He whispered after he pulled away. Under his breath, you hear him begin to hum.

You two stay interlocked, listening to his heartbeat and humming, it lulling you to sleep. His hand continued its ministrations on your scalp as he felt your breathing even out. He pulls far enough away to look at your face, relieved to see you so calm. He smiles to himself, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “My favourite,” He whispered, content with you relaxed in his arms. 

[sstormyskyess]

Medical Evac

author's note: i'm not sure i'm the best at writing whumps [i love hurt/comfort so i may write a part two to this but we'll just have to see]

cw: whump, mentions of blood, injury

word count: 1600+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader "Nails"

If only every operation could just go smoothly. Unfortunately, in the world of TF-141, the dirtiest work was the norm. With the dirtiest work comes the nastiest repercussions when things go horribly wrong, after all. "Ghost, I need you to open your eyes for me. Please,” You plead with the hulking man laying in your arms. Your voice is muted as you choke back a sob, your eyes shut tight. The sound of Ghost’s pained groans is both disheartening and promising at the same time; at the very least, he's still breathing.

The corner you had dragged the both of you into was dark, dusty, and dicey, similar to the situation you found yourselves in. The room you're in was surrounded by enemy forces: the ones who reduced the almighty Ghost to a half-dead heap on the filthy concrete floor smeared with layers of blood, old and new. Your eyes moved frantically between Ghost, to the door of the hovel you’d created, and to the barred window on the other side of the room. Evac was supposed to be only a few minutes out and it had been almost fifteen minutes since you called for it. What could possibly be delaying them?

Ghost had stopped squirming in pain at this point. His breathing is slow, labored. It's almost impossible to tell if his eyes are open or not, and the pitch black eye paint certainly doesn’t help. “Ghost?” You shake him a bit. No response. “Ghost?” Your voice begs him for a sound, a twitch, anything to show you that he was still alive. “Please, you can’t leave me— I can’t lose you now.” You whimper quietly as you hunch over to press your forehead against the hard plastic plate of Ghost’s mask. All you can hear was the crackling flames and heavy boot steps just outside the room.

A heavy hand meets the back of your head, causing you to flinch up and look at Ghost. His eyes were finally open again. It was only just a fraction and it seems so forced that it hurt, but they were open. The hand holding your head so gently was tense. His grip tightens and loosens in time with his strained breathing. The tears in your eyes finally fall and drop down onto Ghost’s mask, prompting him to squeeze the back of your head just a bit harder. “It’ll—” Your voice breaks as you speak, feeling choked by the smoke and your own tears. “It’ll only be a little longer, Ghost, just— please, please,” You nuzzle deeper into his hold. “Just stay alive…”

Your shaky hand shot up to your transceiver and your desperate voice blurts out quickly, “What’s the status on evac?! We need to go— now!” Ghost’s hand grips even tighter, trying his best to ground you. Smoke had started to seep under the door. The footfalls outside had seemingly begun to grow louder, louder…

Until, finally, you see the heli approaching your location. You look down at Ghost for a second. Reluctantly, you set him down, carefully, as though he was made of porcelain. You scramble over to the barred window and scan for the best vantage point to… there.

Your foot comes up and slams into a rusted part of the bars and breaks them open, along with some of the bones in your foot. But that wasn’t important right now. A sudden burst of adrenaline courses through your veins from the mind-numbing pain you just inflicted upon yourself and you suddenly find yourself dragging Ghost along the floor and over your shoulder and jumping through the window to the grassy ground around the building. You wince when you felt him take a couple impacts on the way out. You adjust him the best you could, not wanting to make things worse. The last thing you needed was for things to be even worse than they already are.

You haven’t been able to breathe properly for the past six hours. Your mind has been entirely preoccupied with thoughts of Ghost. He hadn’t stirred once since you made it back to the small temporary base TF-141 had settled into for the past few weeks. Even though pain has been radiating up your ankle to the rest of your leg, you haven’t let anyone near to assess the damage. You haven’t even let Price, Soap or Gaz approach you. Whenever anyone would close in on you, your chest tightened. It was as if a boa constrictor has wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing as tight as it could. You just couldn’t stop yourself from snapping at the medics and your colleagues. You knew deep down you’d regret it later, but that was far from the front of your mind.

Really, this whole situation was your fault. It was the most simple mistake, one that even a rookie wouldn’t make. You caught your foot on one piece of debris and Ghost had to help you up. Then, next thing you knew, he had been riddled with bullet holes and he was bleeding everywhere, and he was dying, he was dying—

“Nails…” Ghost’s voice was rough, the sound of it grating on your mind. You can’t bear to keep hearing it playing over and over in your head. It's painful. It hurt to hear him like that. “Nails.” You silently beg for it to stop. His voice was like sandpaper, digging into your skin down to your heart, into your lungs. You couldn’t breathe—

“Nails!” Ghost’s insistent voice finally breaches past your spiraling mind and you jump to attention. You hadn’t realized you were crying again, hunched over and sobbing into your lap, the tears falling down upon your still dirtied cargo pants. You meet eyes with Ghost. You stare at each other for a couple more seconds until he coughs and winces in pain. Apparently, shouting like that really did a number on the back of his throat, parched after the many hours of not drinking.

Words continue to go unexchanged for a few more seconds that seem to drag on for hours. Before you choke out, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. You hunch back over, unable to look Ghost in the eyes. All you could keep seeing was the pain in his gaze under his mask and eye paint. Ghost’s firm hand lands on your head, caressing you with his now ungloved hand. You lean into him quietly. “I almost got you killed…” Your body trembles, your voice broken and breathless.

Ghost’s hand tenses. “Stop that.” He grumbles through gritted teeth. He hates this self-flagellation you were subjecting yourself to. You didn’t deserve that pain, that sole responsibility you tended to leverage upon yourself. You're too good for that. “Look at me.” His voice is gruff and gravelly as he vies for your attention, watching you despair in front of him. Your eyes are finally pulled up to Ghost’s; they're red and saturated with tears, your eyelashes catching the droplets.

“I’m alright.” Ghost’s voice is hoarse as he did his best to comfort you. He grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, bringing you closer to the present and further out of your mind. “Ghost, I— You almost died. I don’t want to lose you…” Your voice is weak. You look at Ghost almost as though he isn’t real. You feel as though maybe this is all just a dream: a hopeful dream where Ghost was still alive, a dream where you’d actually succeeded in keeping him alive. Maybe he's dead and gone, and you’ll wake up just to see that you failed. “I can’t lose you.” The tears start to return. “Are you… are you gone?” You whisper.

Ghost’s cold, icy heart has been cracking ever since he met you. It's been getting harder and harder for him to tell himself he doesn’t care, and that you're just a coworker, maybe even a nuisance with how persistent you are in trying to make friends with him. No matter what he did, you're always there for him, ready to help and ready to care for him if ever he needs it. Even if you knew that the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. Ghost sighs. “I’m here. I’m not dead.” He moves his hand up your arm and squeezes your shoulder. “You’re not gonna lose me, Nails.”

You sit there quietly for a few minutes, only the sounds of Ghost’s heart monitor and your labored breathing occupying the room. You sigh and look up from your lap. “I should get the nurse.” You force out, still trying to choke down the tears welling up. You grip the armrest of the bed and stand carefully, but you don’t get far before your knees buckle and you fall to the floor with a cry of pain.

Ghost is up and at attention immediately, grabbing hold of your arm. “What’s the issue, Nails?” You whimper and try to force yourself up again. “My—” You clench your teeth, your brow scrunching up. ���My foot. It’s broken, I think…” You mutter, waiting for his admonishment. Ghost squints at you. “Why haven’t you gotten it treated, sergeant?” His voice is firm, masking the genuine worry hiding beneath it. He watches as fresh tears start rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t— I-I was worried about you…” You whimper.

“Bloody git…” Ghost groans both in pain and in frustration. You sniffle and get yourself sat in the chair again. “I-I have to get the nurse. I’m sorry.” You wipe your face with your sleeve. Forcing yourself up again, you keep your eyes off Ghost and squeezed shut. With shaky legs, you limp and stumble on your way to the door. Ghost sighs and settles back into his bed to shut his eyes after watching you leave.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[m00nxghost]

gonna get you started and I saw you were a simon riley simp so let's get you writing on someone you love❗️❗️

Simon riley dating hcs? :)

Okay! I really liked the idea!

Tw: none just cute/fluffiness

Kinda off O.C.C, Gn!reader no use of prounons or looks,not proffered just you

Dating Simon "Ghost" Riley Hc's

Let's start with the fact that the ghost is not a completely cold guy or completely driven by his trauma. He may be a little distant but you can see that he is a guy who cares a lot about the people who are friends/close to him. Dating a ghost seems to be difficult but it's not like that :)

1. Ghost He's a guy who doesn't know how to express himself totally but that doesn't matter,just being close to him is great with a sense of security of course look at him a brick wall and strong too,he likes to stay close to you but always behind you because that way anyone who tries anything with you will automatically move away with the presence and look of ghost

2. He loves telling jokes even though they are those dad/silly jokes He wants to see you laugh and he also likes it when you tell jokes too especially if it's a silly joke, He will laugh softly but a laugh that leaves you blushing and happy

3. He likes to keep his hand on your waist/shoulder or somewhere he can hold it especially in crowded places he doesn't want to let you out of his sight Whenever he can, he holds your waist, always keeping you close to him

4. His love language is acts of service and quality time. He likes to spend time with you doing anything from cooking or watching a movie/series, when acts of service are when you do/he does something for each other how to leave him a cup of tea in the morning a newspaper for him or even fix a crack in his mask when it's with you, he leaves his sweatshirt with "Lieutenant Riley" on the back or him a cup of hot coffee for you in the morning with a piece of paper written "for you, enjoy. SM"

5. He likes to sleep with his arms around you It makes him feel safe and closer to you He is also a very light sleeper especially when he sleeps with you. He's clearly the big spoon

6. When Ghost gets home he takes off his boots and his mask, so it's Simon without Ghost around, when he arrives he feels at home since you are waiting for him and going to give him a big hug and he lifts you up with a smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. He would kiss you and your face after months away being deployed for a mission

7. When he is with you he feels loved even deep down, imagining if it weren't for you he would barely go home and stay at base in his quarters,but since it's not that and he has you he always wants to come home more to see you and feel your hugs, kisses and smell

8. In your relationship, you wear dog tags with both your names and the start date of your relationship as if it were a "wedding ring" so that you look remembering each other, He always looks and kisses his dog tag to remember you! You are his lucky charm <3

9. At first he doesn't intend to have children unless you want them or he changes his mind but what he also wants would be a puppy a small German Shepherd that he brought from the animal shelter, He calls the puppy "Riley" but you sometimes call him "Simon Jr"

10. Simon likes to help you even if it's with the easiest task how to fix something, wash the dishes and cook with you he just wants to be close to you and whenever he sees you doing something he comes to you already helping you even though you say you don't need it. a little stubborn but it makes him laugh when you pout

11. He likes to give you nicknames like "Honey" "Love" "Sweetheart" "Darling" and others! He loves you very much and is happy when you smile/blush when he sees him calling you by these nicknames especially around his colleagues/task force 141

12. He's the type of guy who prefers indoor dates like movie night, cooking together but he would also take you out to eat at a restaurant or a picnic when it's just the two of you, he would be the kind of guy to make a reservation at a restaurant or find a good spot in the park for a date

A/N: My first writing here! I don't know if it turned out as good as I expected :) but it was a lot of fun to write <3 especially for ghost, I love him so much/pos.The next one I plan to write about is Gaz or König. Thanks for reading !! 🫶