#ghost x soap x wife!reader

[lethalchiralium]

“Out out out out out- Come here, you-“

His dog took off from the front porch, Soap snapping angrily at him for snatching a some chicken bones from the basket Simon just brought in. He watched his Collie prance along the yard, jaw settled on the biggest bone he found.

“The wife’s not gonna like that.” Simon muttered as he joined his husband on the porch, holding their daughter with one hand - letting her face the farm with a cute face of delight. She cooed, little hands opening and closing as she watched her dog go nuts in the grass.

Soap frowned, knowing if he tried to retrieve the bone he’d lose a hand, but if he didn’t retrieve the bone he’d lose his head. He wasn’t keen on their wife being angry at him, she had a nice day training her horses and counting the sheep; no need to piss her off. “She’s got bone broth to make.”

“She does.” Simon confirmed, hiking the little baby up on his chest to keep her close to his face. “Babe’s getting hungry.”

“Looks it too.” Soap glanced to his side, spying his daughter beginning to chew on his husband’s finger. “Gotta get that damn bone.”

He chuckled a little. “Shadow!” The black Collie instantly turned his head towards Simon, who pulled his hand from his daughter’s mouth to point to his foot. “Here.”

Soap rolled his eyes, turning and grabbing his baby as the mutt ran and laid down at Simon’s feet. He kissed his daughter’s blonde hair, keeping her dress nice and flat as he moved back into the cabin. The fire was low in the fireplace, Simon’s knives left abandoned on the table beside the now out of reach basket of chicken bones. He’s got an awake baby in his hands, he knows she’s getting hungry by her little grunts and coos that she is going to be pissed soon. Simon walked in and to the basket, tossing the wiped clean bone into it before placing it higher on a bookshelf.

“Miss Claire,” Soap cooed to his baby, her little face looked up to him with a toothless grin. “Mum’ll be home soon. Ye'r nae gonnae starve.”

“You still goin’ with Laswell to town tomorrow?” Simon commented, hand gently patting Shadow before he opened a drawer, grabbing the silverware he had made years ago. “We need more grain for the-“

“Horses, I know.” He sighed, looking over to the blond as he set the table for three. Soap settled in his chair, letting his baby gnaw on his finger. “Ya sure ya dinnae wanna come?”

Simon chuckled a little. “Got Claire to watch. Mum’s gonna want to bathe the babe and the dog tomorrow, she needs hands.”

“More hands make less work.”

“Especially with the damn dog.” A pause, Soap didn’t even have to look to know Simon was staring down their shepherd dog. “Yes you, ya mutt. Go outside and wait for Mum.”

There was the scratching of the dog’s claws as he bounded back outside, barking happily as you walked in, hands dragging down your dirtied dress with a smile. Claire cooed in Soap’s grasp, Simon’s hand gently brushed through his husband’s hair. The dog followed you as you closed the front door, then to your dirt dusted husbands. A kiss to both their lips, then one to the blonde hair of your baby.

“Did ya want me to cook?” Simon murmured as Soap pressed kisses to your cheek, you pulled away from him and your daughter to stretch your arms above your head.

“You’d set the cabin on fire.”

“She’s right, Si-“

“Shut up.”

“Simon, baby, get my dress.” You turned your back, he instantly began to loosen your corset upon your request. “Just wanna feed the baby and go to bed.”

“Gotta eat, love.” Soap’s hand settled on your leg, big smile on his face. “At least you do.”

You nodded, gazing at your happy baby in his lap. “I’ll feed ‘er after Simon burns the house down.” Simon tugged on the strings of your corset, making you wobble on your feet. You whipped your head around to see him smirk. “Don’t be trouble, Simon, it doesn’t end well.”

“‘Course it doesn’t.” He glanced up to you before he pulled your dress down your front - you gasped, Soap suddenly stood to take your baby away. “Trouble is what made that little one, Little Bird.” You were spun around, callused hands picked you up and brought you the few feet to the massive bed in the adjacent room - Simon placed you in the middle of the bed, yanking off your dress and leaving you in your chemise and stockings. Yet, he didn’t pursue what he usually would - instead, he kissed your lips and smiled. “I’ll make dinner. Rest.”

Soap instantly appeared, bouncing around little Claire in her dress that once matched yours. He smirked, gazing at your shocked expression. “Dinna worry, we’ll ravage ya when the babe’s asleep.”

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood Next >>

John Price stood at a round table, leading the mission brief for the team’s upcoming operation. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz sat around the table in various positions. Soap with his boots kicked up onto the table, chair tilted back; Gaz leaned forward onto the table, his forearms on the surface; Ghost leaned back against his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Soap and Gaz wore their regulation tan t-shirts and camo pants, while Ghost was clad in a black long-sleeve and his standard skull balaclava.

“So if we’re stormin’ the building, we’re all accounted for,” Soap pointed out, clicking the pen between his fingers. “We need a sniper.”

“Called in a favor with a good friend, who should have been here–”

“Ten minutes ago,” a strong but mellow voice cut in as a figure turned through the doorway. “I know, sorry John. Got a bit caught up with my room assignment. Tried to put me on the other side of base.”

A woman came into view, offering her hand out to John. They firmly grasped each other’s forearms in a quick shake. Soap and Gaz both had only slightly surprised expressions. Not at the fact that their sniper was female; they’d worked with plenty of fierce women during their time in Task Force 141.

The fact that she did not look the part.

She wore a massively oversized black sweatshirt that brushed her thighs and dark blue skinny jeans, her hair loose down her back. Must’ve just got off a plane, Soap thought to himself, looking her up and down. Her stance showed her confidence, feet shoulder-width apart as she faced the team with a bright smile (one not often found in their field of work) and glowing skin. She wasn’t necessarily small, more average height, but her attire dwarfed her frame. 

“Thank you for joining us, Captain,” Price nodded at her. “This is Freyja. American Special Forces, sniper, undercover ops. She’s been briefed and will be joining us temporarily for the op. She comes highly recommended and outranks all of you, so I’d suggest you be on your best behavior.”

The woman jabbed Price with her elbow, rolling her eyes, much to Soap’s surprise. He barely suppressed the laugh that bubbled in his chest, unable to help the small choking laugh that escaped. Ghost glared at him and he quickly piped down.

“Thanks, John, but I think I’ll be fine. Glad to be of use.”

“Happy to have you. Let me know if you need anything while you’re here. I’ll leave you to it, get acquainted. We leave at 0400 hours. We’ll be infiltrating in daylight; prepare accordingly.”

“Aye, Captain,” Soap nodded once and saluted him, setting his chair back down as he rose. He watched John pat her shoulder on his way out, sharing what seemed like a knowing look, before finally departing to his quarters. Interesting.

Soap was the first to cross the room, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Sergeant John Mactavish,” he introduced, shaking her hand. He noted her equally firm grip and the cool metal of a wedding band pressing into his palm. Her skin was calloused yet soft, not as rough as his own. 

“Soap, right? Heard a lot about you.”

“Aye. Good things I hope?"

“Mostly.”

A boisterous laugh left him, so loud you’d think the room shook. Soap heard Gaz gag on his water before breaking into a choked wheeze. The other man approached, shaking her hand as well. “Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz.”

Her hands found their way into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“So, Freyja… like the–?”

A gentle, airy giggle floated into his ears. What a lovely sound. “Yes, like the goddess. I know, my husband’s idea.”

Soap groaned, his head lolling back in faux agony as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, lass. Was hopin’ ya didn’t have one’a those. He in the service?”

“He is, but you wouldn’t know him. Keeps a pretty low profile,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the two men in front of her.

”D’ya think I could take him?”

”Probably not.”

Neither Soap nor Gaz noticed the way Ghost’s mask twitched slightly, evidence of the smirk that pulled at his lips. But she knew his microexpressions like the back of her hand, even out of the corner of her eye. The Scot remembered Ghost’s presence suddenly and waved his hand in his direction. He hadn’t made any move to greet the newcomer and hadn’t spoken during the entire brief.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Ghost, you heard the man. Be nice to the lady!”

Ghost grunted, keeping his arms folded on his chest. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

The two stared at each other, her brow quirked. As the seconds passed, the interaction became increasingly awkward for everyone else in the room. Even the thickest person on the planet could have sensed the tension. Unable to take the silence any longer, Gaz stepped in to attempt to relieve some tension. “You two worked together before?”

“You could say that,” Ghost stated as he rose from his chair. “A word, Freyja?”

Her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek and she squinted at him. It was almost comical, the height difference between the two. Typically, Soap would have made a snarky quip, if not for the vicious look in her eyes. He wouldn’t say it out loud to him, but the scowl rivaled his lieutenant‘s. Finally, she spoke, “Excuse us, gentlemen. I’ll see you in the morning. You know where to find me in the meantime.”

“G’night, Cap,” Soap nodded and moved to the side, allowing her to pass to the door. Ghost didn’t spare them another glance as he followed behind her. The two men stood silently until they heard a door slam shut up the hall. Soap snapped his gaze to Gaz and found him already looking with wide eyes.

“What was that about?”

Soap shrugged noncommittally. “Not a clue. Bad history? Ghost’s no’ exactly skilled in manners.” He went to head to his room when he noticed a military-issue duffel where Freyja had been standing, an American flag patch on the side. He bent down and slung it over his shoulder. “Left her stuff. I’m gonna drop it by ‘for hittin’ the hay. See ya in the mornin’.”

They went their separate ways, Gaz disappearing to the armory to stock up for the mission. Soap approached the only spare room in their wing and rapped his knuckles against the door. He waited for a few beats to no response and repeated the motion.

Nothing.

Soap’s brows furrowed when he heard what sounded like a muffled argument from the next door up, labeled “Lt. Riley”. Soap should have just left her duffel in front of her door and continued on his way to his bedroom, and gone to bed.

But no, he just had to snoop.

He crept toward the door, still holding the bag as he pressed his ear to the hollow wood. They clearly knew each other, but Ghost hadn’t seemed happy to see her. He felt a bit guilty spying on his lieutenant, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He heard Ghost’s deep voice first.

“We had a deal. You’re supposed to be on leave, and Price knows that. I have half a mind to wring his fucking neck–”

“John didn’t ask me to be here, I volunteered–”

“Cut the shit, Y/N. I’m not daft. He has no place calling you in without asking me first.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Simon!”

Simon? Just how familiar were they with each other?

“Oh, I’m well aware. I just figured that when your husband asks you to stay home, you'd listen! How silly of me!”

So he knows her husband. Interesting. 

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“You want to talk about fair? You went around my back to my Captain. I’d say anything’s fair play at this point.” Heavy boots crossed the floor. “This isn’t just about you anymore. You’re not my superior, you’re–”

Soap shuffled his feet, he realized too late how loud the noise was in the empty hallway, and the voices suddenly stopped. He knocked in an attempt to recover, quickly stepping back from the door before it opened. The woman appeared, now in a too-big band tee, her dog tags resting on her chest. “Hi, Johnny,” she greeted, her tone significantly warmer than it had been a moment ago. 

He didn’t remember mentioning his preference for the name, but he couldn’t find a reason to comment on it then. “You, uh, left ya bag. Wanted to drop it off, figured you’d be here.”

“Oh, my bad. Thanks, I appreciate it.” He transferred her possessions to her. The bag that appeared standard when he carried it looked huge compared to her frame. The added weight did not phase her. “We have an early morning. I’m heading to bed.”

Ghost moved from his spot near the bed on the other side of the room. “Frey–”

She held a hand up, sending another chilling glare in his direction. Soap was impressed when Ghost didn’t even blink at the look. “Enough, Lieutenant. That’s an order.” He didn’t miss the eyes behind the skeleton glowering or how the fabric near his mouth shifted. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled through clenched teeth. 

She brushed by Soap, readjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stormed to her room, somehow gracefully maintaining her posture. Before he could turn back to question Ghost, the door swung shut in his face.

Real polite.

~*~

“Alpha-One, in position.”

“Copy that, one. Alpha-Two, in position.”

“Bravo?” Soap’s partner looked over his shoulder at the white light flashing at them in the distance. There was a muffled choking sound and a swallow, followed by a sniffle. “Freyja?”

“Sorry. Multiple armed guards. Two snipers at the east and west sides of the targets.” Her voice, while calm, sounded tired and a bit drained. As if she could sense the unspoken question, she came through their headsets again. “Little sick this morning. I’m fine.”

Ghost's jaw set and he rolled his shoulders, blinking a few times to focus. Soap noticed the motion and covered the mic on his headset. “You a’right, Lt.?” he asked, his voice concerned with his brows furrowed. 

Ghost ignored him. “Can you get a visual inside?”

“Negative. Windows are blocked in both buildings. You’re going blind.”

“What’s the call, ma’am?” Gaz’s voice.

“This is Price’s op. I’m just here for support.”

“Ghost?” Price this time. 

Ghost audibly sighed, his irritation at the situation clear. Soap wondered how bad their last encounter could have been for the usually collected man in front of him to be so disheveled. Soap looked over at the lieutenant, who had turned his attention back to the opening in the wall between them. “Bravo, hold your position. Understood?”

“Affirmative.”

“Alpha-One, move in on your target on my command.” Ghost clicked off his mic and slid the chamber back on his pistol, doing one final check.

Soap took the opportunity to follow up on his unanswered concern. “Ghost, you good? Seem tense. Something going on with the lass?”

“Shut up, Sergeant.” He reached up to click his headset back on. “Freyja cleared hot to engage.”

“Standby.” A beat passed, then another, until the suppressed shot of a sniper rifle rang through their headsets, followed by the bolt being pulled back and pushed forward. Another shot. “Clean hit. Snipers down.”

“Copy. Alpha-One, move in. Keep it quiet,” Ghost commanded, signaling Soap forward with a tilt of his head.

She watched Ghost and Soap move swiftly around structures and cars forward to their target. Her gaze periodically adjusted between them and Alpha-One, Gaz and Price. Soap’s accent was low in her ear. “Approaching target. Engaging two hostiles.”

The pair dispatched the guards with ease, the same as the other team up the road.

“Be advised, I have no eyes inside,” she reminded the group, surveying the surrounding area as both teams entered the building.

“Roger. Breaching.”

On their frequency, angry shouts and gunfire had her writing uncomfortably in her spot. She didn’t like not having a solid visual of her team; it made her feel helpless. The audio of the scene inside wasn’t helping her nerves (or nausea) much, either. The sniper was almost lost in her thoughts when she caught movement at the edge of her scope up the street.

Reinforcements.

“Ghost, engaging incoming hostiles. You might want to bug out,” she suggested, taking several shots at the armed men back-to-back. “Alpha-One, sound off.”

“Heard. Intel acquired,” Price acknowledged. “Clearing out.”

“Alpha-Two, how copy?”

The radio crackled once before Soap came through. “Copy, I’ve lost visual on Ghost. Got separated in the firefight,” he grunted, still firing shots inside the building. “‘M gonna have to squirt.”

Something wasn’t right. “Ghost, how copy?”

Silence.

“Lieutenant, what’s your status?”

Her skin crawled at the repeated silence. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath and pulled her knees underneath her body, her stomach suddenly stilling, nausea disappearing. “Abandoning post.” Her voice pierced through their radios with urgency. She abandoned her rifle and made her way down from her perch.

“Absolutely not. We’re converging at the meeting point now.” Price cursed under his breath as she brandished her sidearm and sprinted towards Ghost’s last location. “Stand down, Bravo, that’s an order!” The captain commanded, rough and authoritative.

“All due respect, Price, get bent.”

Price and Gaz watched helplessly as she disappeared into the structure, Soap approaching them from their flank. “The absolute balls on that one, aye?” he snickered, eyeballing Price. He didn’t even flinch, expression hard as steel as he rubbed his face. He hadn’t seen his captain that stressed in quite a while. Maybe not the time for jokes…

The blood-curdling screams Soap heard would scare any man straight. It sounded like a horror movie slaughterhouse over their comms, whether it was caused by Ghost or Freyja he didn’t know. He did know it was her voice that said Ghost’s name and assumed the distant, heated mumbling was Ghost. He must have lost his headset if they couldn’t hear him clearly, and what they were hearing was whatever her comms picked up. “Shut the fuck up and move. If you were fine, I wouldn’t be here, Lieutenant. You can thank me later,” she snapped, sounding eerily similar to a stereotypical angry wife. There’s no way she cleared out that entire convoy on her own…

Right?

Moments later, without any other gunfire, the pair emerged. Ghost was indeed missing his headset, while Freyja trudged in front of him, taking long steps to cross the street. Her helmet was gone, and her hair had come loose. Gun in one hand, a familiar black combat knife in the other, dripping blood. Strands of hair clung to her face, coated in dark red, along with her hands, bare arms, and vest. Soap’s eyes blew wide. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus, did she–?”

Price hummed and nodded beside him. In the same breath, she stumbled over to a car and gripped the door handle, dumping her stomach on the dusty road. Soap and Gaz moved to help, but Price stopped them with a single grunt. Ghost was immediately on her, expertly sweeping her hair into one hand as he pulled her earpiece out, cutting off their audio. One of her hands grabbed his vest for support while his other hand rested on her back.

“Well, that’s unusual,” Soap chimed, his head cocked to the side as he watched the display.

“Quit starin’ and load up. I doubt that’s the last of those reinforcements.” Price waved at them, catching Ghost’s attention and pointing to an approaching Heli, waving his hand in a “roll out” motion.

~*~

The ride back to base in the heli was one of the most awkward experiences of Soap’s life; not a word was spoken during the short trip. Ghost pulled a rag out of his vest and silently handed it to Freyja to wipe some blood from her face; she passed him the blade she had carried, and he finally placed its familiarity when Ghost tucked it into the empty holster at his hip. She looked utterly drained now that they were in close quarters. In another shocking moment, she rested her head on Ghost’s shoulder, and he didn’t move to shove her off.

What the fuck?

At the base, Ghost dropped her off at the medical bay before storming into the meeting room where the team had gathered to debrief. “You’re a dead man, Price,” he barked, finger jabbed at him as his skull plate skittered across the table when he threw it. “You fuckin’ knew–”

“Simon, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t “Simon” me. Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Captain! If she’s hurt–”

“I didn’t think she would compromise herself that easily.”

Ghost barked a dry, humorless laugh as he pointed in the general direction of the infirmary. “Of course, she’s bloody compromised! She’s my fuckin’ wife, you git!” he snarled, teeth viciously bared as he ripped off his mask.

“Hell’s fuckin’ bells…”

“Bloody hell…”

He was too angry (and, frankly, scared for his wife’s health) to acknowledge their audience. “This is exactly why I told you not to call her. I can’t focus if I’m worried about her safety right now. She’s supposed to be safe at home, resting, not running into a bloody warzone, for God’s sake!” 

“She was told not to leave her post–”

“When has she ever obeyed a direct order?”

Silence fell over the group, Price effectively losing the argument. Neither Sergeant wanted to find themselves on the other end of Ghost’s rage. They had no envy for Price and dared not get between them. No envy at all. On the other hand, Soap had so many questions. Since where was Ghost married? When did he have the time for a wife? And an American at that? How long had he been keeping her a secret?

“Simon.”

Four heads whipped to the soft voice across the room, finding the woman of the hour standing in the doorway. A superficial cut on her forehead had been taped up, her face clear of blood. Soap and Gaz stared at her in disbelief, jaws dropped as they looked from her to Ghost and back again. She chuckled at their expressions but didn’t move to approach them. “Captain Riley. Lovely to meet you both, officially,” she reintroduced herself, a slight smirk on her lips. She finally met her husband’s gaze, her expression softened at his bare face, save for the black paint.

He curled two fingers at her, one arm crossed over his chest. “C’mere. Now,” he ordered her, though his tone had little bite to it.

Even only knowing the sniper for such little time, Soap was outright shocked at the display. Flabbergasted by her obedience when she immediately strode to the spot next to him, barely leaving any space between their chests. It didn’t seem like her. He was obviously wrong, considering what he’d just witnessed. 

Ghost took a deep breath as he peered down at her, examining her visible skin for injuries. “I’m right pissed at you, love,” he muttered, allowing her to loop a finger in his belt loop.

She smiled up at him, her admiration clear now that the sergeants had been let in on the secret. “I know.”

“Don’t give me that look.” The man sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hold his ground with that smile of hers. He dropped a gloved hand to rest on her lower belly, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You alright?”

She placed her hand on top of his and bobbed her head. Her familiar glow from the night before had returned.

“I’d like an apology.”

“And I’d like a parade in my honor. Oh, and a good ol’ fashioned fu–”

“Oi, better watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“You love my mouth.”

“Tha’ I do. Just not right now, sweetheart.”

Soap couldn’t take it anymore. “Steamin’ blood Jesus L.t., are you…flirting?”

“Shamelessly,” she giggled, never once tearing her eyes away from the man towering over her.

Ghost rolled his eyes again, his other hand slipping into its home on the side of her neck. “You’re done. I mean it. And if you call her again, I walk,” he threatened, turning his head to address Price directly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Ghost, she held her own just fine,” Soap interjected from his chair. “Hen took out an entire squad practically single-handedly, plus the convoy before she went in after ya. I don’t see the problem.”

Realization dawned on Gaz suddenly, forcing him to his feet again. “You’re pregnant,” he exclaimed, both in shock and awe. “That’s why you were feeling sick. And the big clothes. You’re on maternity leave."

The lack of response from John and Freyja and how Ghost studied Gaz said everything they needed to know.

“No wonder you’ve been downright crabbit with her! Can’t say I blame ye, ‘s too dangerous out there to be mucking about with a little one in there.” Soap rose to his feet too, smiling like a cheeseball, ready to ruthlessly tease him. “How’d you manage that, Ghost? A bangin’ wife and a baby?”

“I know it’s been a while for you, Sarge–”

“Aw, away n’ bile yer heid!” the Scot barked, dismissing his lieutenant with a wave.

“English, MacTavish.”

“Sorry, sir, let me translate…Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

He moved on from Ghost, addressing Freyja now. “I’ve so many questions! How long ‘ave you been together?” Soap leaned against the round table in front of them, his hands dragging across the shaved portion of his head.

“How old am I?” Ghost asked in a low, teasing timber.

Her upper lip tugged upwards as her hand wavered, indicating an estimate. “Five years, give or take.”

“Five years?! Son of the god-damn-devil, Lt! You’ve had a secret wife for five years–” He cut himself off with a gasp, his volume dropping to a brash whisper. “Does he take the mask off when you—”

“Tha’ll do, Johnny.”

Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and she swatted his tactical vest with her palm. “Si, don’t be an ass,” she warned, raising a brow at him. “Oh, John! I have pictures for you!” The woman let go of her husband and dug out folded ultrasound photos from her zipped pocket. She, Price, and Gaz moved to another corner of the room, gushing over the snapshots of her latest appointment before flying out, leaving Soap and Ghost alone by the meeting table.

A mischievous grin overtook Soap’s face. “An American, eh, Lt.? And she outranks you?”

“Not another word, Sergeant.”

A long pause stretched between them, although not long enough for Ghost’s liking.

“So… Goddess of love, beauty, and war,” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at the Brit, who threw him a questioning side-eye. Soap hummed. “Fitting.”

Soap almost gawked at the smirk (borderline smile) that Ghost bore as he watched his wife animatedly pour over her photos. “I’m well aware.” Another moment passed between them before Ghost fully turned to the other man. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, Ghost?"

“Flirt with my wife again, I’ll knock your teeth in."

"Noted, sir."

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[princessdimondheart]

Tells | Ghost x Secret Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader

Warnings: blood, wounds, pregnancy, 🥺

Edited: No

A/N: I really wanted to do my own take on this idea. Hope you like it.

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Johnny wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized it before, after being introduced to his Lieutenant’s wife. There were small, subtle tells that gave away Ghost having a significant other, but he never put the pieces together. Honestly, Johnny was a little upset because he’s in the SAS- he should be able to see things like this. 

The first time he noticed something was strange with Simon was when they were gathering their gear right before going to another mission. They were placing the last of their equipment into their bags. Simon had not put his black skeleton gloves on yet so his wrists were exposed. Johnny didn’t notice anything different until Simon rolled up his sleeves like usual. And there it was. 

A hair tie. 

He didn’t think much about it. Maybe he found it laying around the base. No. That would be weird and there weren’t that many women frequenting the same places as Simon anyways. 

Could he be using it to snap at his wrist when or if he got anxious? Nah.. Ghost stays focused on missions. Johnny doubted Ghost would let anxiety pull a fast one on him in the field. 

Oh! Simon is definitely growing his hair out. Johnny wondered if his balaclava was comfortable with long hair. So he pointed it out. 

“Growing your hair out L.t.?” His lips curled into a little smirk. 

Simon looked up from the full magazine in his hands. Only his eyes gave away his confusion. “No? Why?”

“Your hair tie.” Johnny nodded to his right wrist. “Never took ya for a purple-wearin’ kind of guy, sir.”

Ghost blinked at his Sergeant and then glanced to his aforementioned wrist. Sure enough a bold purple hair tie was bound to his lower arm. Simon was sure he had removed it before leaving home earlier that day. 

“Oh… must have forgot.” Simon spoke absentmindedly. He was remembering his wife. He had gotten home before her and when she came he helped her remove her ponytail, completely forgetting about the hair tie once their kisses got the better of them. 

Simon didn’t say anything else, so Johnny shrugged it off and continued filling his bag with ammunition. Not even two minutes after he forgot what they were talking about when Captain Price called them over. 

~~~~~

The next time something was different with Ghost, Johnny wasn’t even the one who noticed it first. It was Gaz who pointed it out. 

After a long and hard mission, Task Force 141 had finally arrived at base. The team desperately needed showers, so right after hoping off the helicopter everyone went straight to their barracks. 

After their most loved showers everyone went to the mess hall for some real food and not the field MREs they had been eating for the past few weeks. There Kyle had already gotten his portion of food and was digging in. Soap and Price were sitting across from him too, but no Ghost in sight. Simon came in almost halfway through their dinner and sat next to the young Sergeant. The food on his tray was not being eaten. 

That’s when Kyle smelled it. A fruity smell was wafting from the freshly showered SAS powerhouse next to him. Ghost smelled of fresh cut pomegranates and some other fruit notes. It took him by surprise. Kyle would have normally pictured Ghost as a strict standard-issue soap kinda user, not a fruity one. 

“Did they change the regular soaps, sir?” Gaz took the risk. 

Johnny had finished chewing and looked up at his L.t. and Kyle with a questioning look. Then he leaned forward on the table to take a sniff. 

“Is that pomegranate, L.t.?” Johnny chuckled. He’d take any chance to tease his superior. 

Ghost gave them a subtle glare. He had hoped no one would have noticed his mistake. He’d been in a hurry to leave home and well…

“I grabbed the wrong bottle.” He deadpanned then turned to Price, who was shaking his head in disapproval at the two, to ask about any new leads. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

~~~~~

The third time was when their mission went FUBAR. Ghost and Soap had gotten separated from Captain Price and Gaz when their enemies tried to ambush them. In the chaos Soap was shot in the leg, but with Ghost’s help, he was able to escape and hold out until it was safe enough for them to head to the rendezvous point for extraction. 

Now that they were relatively safe, Ghost was searching his packs for supplies to help Johnny with. Johnny wasn’t particularly paying too much attention to what he was doing since he was bleeding out and moaning in pain, but he definitely noticed when Ghost used a tampon to plug the gunshot wound in his thigh. 

“Fuckin’ hells, Ghost! Where’da fuck yous get a bloody tampon from!?”

“It’s an essential tool for survival.” He honestly had no idea how that slipped into his med pouch. Johnny guessed it was so if Ghost had said it. 

~~~~~

Next time they were somewhere in Africa, most definitely melting with the heat. A great bonding experience for the two of them. Their only relief was a slow moving breeze. Soap and Ghost were staking out one of a known terrorist cell’s many compounds. All was quiet for now. 

“Johnny?” Ghost didn’t move from his position, eyes dead on his scope. 

Johnny looked over. “Yeah, L.t.?”

“Once we’re done here, I’m taking you somewhere important. Keep your schedule clear.” Simon’s deep voice sounded out softly. 

“Oh… alright.” He didn’t know what to say. “Okay. Definitely, Simon.” 

He looked back towards the compound. Simon had glanced at that moment to see his little smile. His eyes crinkled. 

~~~~~

True to his word, after their stakeout mission was completed, Simon hauled Johnny into his car and began to drive them to who knows where. All Johnny knew was that the drive took several hours from their base in London to wherever they were in the countryside. 

They were nearly at their destination when Simon pulled them into a long driveway and pressed a button controller on his shade that opened the metal gates. Going through, the road was surrounded by open pastures on both sides. When Johnny looked around more closely he noticed a few horses, and, was that a cow? They were grazing on the lush grass. Was his L.t. taking him to a farm?

“Where are we, sir?” He had to ask. 

“You’ll see, Johnny.” Simon had slowed down so as to not spook any of the animals grazing. 

Two minutes later and the car pulled up to a nice two-story cottage home. It was made from stone and appeared to be like a fairy tale type of house. Johnny quite liked the look of it. He noticed that the lights were on. 

Simon opened the locked door, then took off his skull balaclava. It was clear that he was comfortable enough to forego it. “I called ahead, so dinner should be ready soon.”

Dinner? Who’s made them dinner? Johnny didn’t question him and just nodded. Simon stepped inside, none of the wooden boards squeaked when he walked in them unlike when Johnny stepped on them. His steps alerted the person in the kitchen. A delicious smell was coming out in soft waves. The person poked their head out to see who was there. They weren’t worried because they knew that only Simon had the extra key. 

“I’m home.” Johnny noticed a softness in his voice that he hadn’t heard before. Simon’s large frame was blocking his view of the person. A dog suddenly burst from the kitchen barking at Simon before realizing who he was. It sat down when he started to pet him, his butt wiggling with the fast beat of his tail. Cute. Then the dog, a German shepherd, turned to him and started sniffing him with caution. Johnny let him sniff his hand and after a bit he licked his hand and wagged his tail. Approved. 

“Welcome home, Simon!” The person’s voice was distinctly feminine. Johnny had moved closer to Simon and the kitchen, so when the woman fully came into view he saw her right away. 

She went in for a hug and that’s when Johnny noticed a small, yet significant distance between the two. She was pregnant and her baby belly was making it a little harder to hug her. But that didn’t stop Simon from embracing her as tightly as he could. When her hand came up to rest against Simon’s shoulder, Johnny noticed again the large diamond on her ring finger. 

“L.t.?” The two lovers separated to look at him. 

“Johnny, come meet my wife.” Simon gave him a knowing nod which Johnny instantly returned. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. His L.t. had brought him home to see his little family. Johnny almost choked up upon realizing the significance of Simon trusting him with this information. Right then and there, Johnny gave Simon a mental promise to help keep his family safe, no matter what.

Bonus: 

“Oh! The baby is kicking! Want to feel ‘em, Johnny?” Simon’s wife asked. 

“Oh, sure! If that’s alright with you?” She took his larger hand in answer and placed it near the top of her baby bump. A few kicks hit his hand. They were rather strong kicks too. Definitely a football star, or another SAS kid, in the making. 

“Woah!” Johnny exclaimed. Then, turning to his L.t. who was watching them interact, his mouth turned into a wide grin. “Does that make me their uncle, Simon?”

“Don’t push it, MacTavish.” His wife giggled. 

Masterlist

[moongreenlight]

Need more secret wife please 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday? WIP Wednesday.

Secret Wife p3 SMALL UPDATE that I have been hoarding like a dragon with treasure lol (I am riddled with guilt)

It takes Johnny upwards of two hours sat alone in his car in silence to fully process what just happened. He’d tried to ask a thousand follow up questions in some rapid-fire babble, but he was met with a wall of stony silence. Goes on stupidly for well over two minutes until Ghost knocks him with a cupped palm on his temple. Little rougher than could be considered friendly, but nowhere near harmful. Served to bring him back to earth.

“Take a breath, sergeant.”

The low rumble of Simon’s voice barely rises over the dull roar of the cars around them.

“Fuck off.”

Johnny looks less gobsmacked than he feels.

“Mind your manners.”

A bite. He must’ve quit smoking around you for the time being. Made him more waspish than usual.

“Cannae believe you, bastard. Kept a secret tha’ big from us all this time?”

Simon took a labored breath in. A sigh like the stiffness of his muscles was creating a vice around his lungs. He threw a sideways glance back toward your car a few aisles over. Like he was making sure you were still there and situated. Pursed his lips and rubbed the bridge of his nose while saying something about how Soap was to under no circumstance take you up on the dinner offer. Turned on his heel and made his way back over to you without a goodbye.

Johnny had half a mind to disobey out of sheer bull-headedness but decided against it just before he sent you a message on his last day of leave. Deleted the text he’d drafted and resigned to trying to press Simon more about things when they got back on base.

He tried, persistent bugger that he is, to pester his L.T. to give up more information. When the two of you’d gotten married. Why he hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he invited to the wedding? Was there a wedding? Does anyone else know? All fruitless. Snubbed each time.

He would have been offended if he hadn’t come to know Ghost so well over the years. He’s cagey at his warmest, so it’s no real surprise that he’s kept this under lock and key. The real shock came from the understanding that it happened at all in the first place. Johnny had a hard time wrapping his mind around someone as kind and welcoming as you somehow getting tangled with someone as stoic and brutish as Ghost. He tried to conjure up infinitely many situations where the two of you met and the coupling made sense, but he never stumbled on one that felt right.

Your went into labor over a month early. Just a few weeks after the boys had returned to base. Four hours before the boys were due to board a flight that would deploy them for three weeks. It was the only time Simon had ever been late to call. Johnny was sent to go track him down by an extraordinarily eggy Price.

He found him ready to leave, rifle slung over his back like a soldier. Pacing the hall outside your room in the bay. Down a short corridor in the back that usually hosted surgeries. He was whale-eyed and hostile toward the sound of Johnny’s boots echoing across the brick. It was jarring to see him so agitated. His hulking frame tangibly vibrating through the pounds of gear he was sporting. He truly considered just walking away. Spinning some tale about desertion because that seemed entirely less daunting than trying to corner an animal like Ghost.

Johnny eventually got him to leave. It was a non-option at this point, just a matter of getting the big bastard into the chopper. Tugging him away was like leashing a feral dog. He was fanatical, tugging at the lead and choking himself the entire way across the landing pad. Didn’t stop snarling until he was pushed down into his seat by Price and made to shut up.

[oceantornadoo]

my masterlist💖

mdni!

welcome to the feral things that come from my brain :) feel free to request a trope!

i use #tornadothoughts for all my drabbles and fics and #tornado speaks🙊 for random thoughts

do not repost my work without credit :)

all fics are f!reader unless specified

141 character masterlists

two lieutenants series (simon riley x f!reader)

mad max: the 141 au (john price x f!reader)

ts lyrics and the 141

renegade (simon riley x reader)

ttpd headcanons (any 141 member)

misc

cheer me up (headcanons w each of the 141)

[violetbranwen]

Kate Laswell’s wife!Reader thoughts:

Laswell's Wife Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

She’s nonbinary but goes by she/her. (Pronouns don’t denote gender yo!)

She and Kate have been together for 15 years, married 10.

Bisexual/pansexual af.

More butch than Kate, the military life demands it in her line of work.

Never wanted kids but if Kate asked she’d get out a long-standing excel spreadsheet on the options available to a same sex afab couples.

Proposed to Kate under morphine after a GSW to the belly.

Proposed again at a botanical garden years after they got married (running joke) when Kate told off some kids for antagonising pigeons.

Loves to cook and bake but hardly has time for it.

Loves anime and K-drama. Kate isn’t into it at all but indulges reader.

Running jokester in their relationship.

Once Simon finds out basically becomes best friends with him. They both antagonise the hell out of soap.

Once Price finds out he and Gaz admit their secret (very long standing) relationship.

Double dates and holidays to the Peak and Lake districts with you and Kate and Gaz and Price.

Nights out in Manchester with Soap and Ghost.

Constant battle to get Kate to move to the UK.

Has met Kate’s conservative AF parents as her “friend” (contention?)

Kate has met readers parents who welcomed Kate like nothing she ever knew before.

Idk just having some inspiration thoughts! Of course this should never deviate from the "reader" aspect for any fo the fics, but this is sut some things I have in mind.

[bnxstudio]

New art prints of cowboy graves, I will be including them in my shop soon, if anyone wants a physical copy🥰

(Do not steal)

I finally have these in stock in my shop! They look amazing 💕

[myfamilycrestisthedemonofdeath]

Unhinged reader shenanigans with 141

Laswell: when I said get creative on your attires, this is not what I meant

Johnny, dressed up like the sluttiest french maid with cat ears and tail and fishnet stockings in heels, ass is barely covered

Kyle, full on geralt of rivia from witcher 3 cosplay with the wig and chainmail and contact lenses and swords from a ren faire visit

Price, looking like a ketchup bottle with a bright red vest that goes to his knees and a hat that looks like a traffic cone painted red, costume courtesy of spirit halloween

Simon, in his normal clothes with a Jason Vorhees hockey mask instead of a skull mask on his balaclava

You, in an inflatable Barney the Dinosaur costume: but it's halloween

Laswell: THIS IS A STAKE OUT

[campbellcorner]

Thinking about this cod fanfic and I need help finding it 💀💀

I think it was either soap or ghost?? Maybe even Konig??? Or price??? And like, they have a wife reader who takes care of 1-2 kids. And like, the fathers at the school thinks she's a single mom and always flirt with her. Because they never see Soap/Ghost/Konig around. And mom/wife reader is friendly cause she's like,"it's the right thing to do right??"

And so once Soap/Ghost/Konig are home for a bit, the kids tell them and attends the kids/school event going on dressed in their military gear or smth. And like, the dads are shocked and the moms flirt over him n stuff.

Idk it's been on my mind 💀💀 por favor I need that fic found LMAO

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Eternal garden

TW: Reader’s call sign is Nova, mentions of death, gun violence, and really sad shit 😟 (ooc ghost, maybe?)

For all my broken heart girlies, ilysm.

(also this my first time writing something related to cod, pls lmk what you think if u can! Enjoy! <3)

It happened in a split second, right before his frightened eyes.

the piercing sound of a single bullet flying right by him missing him, but it was all too late as he aimed his own gun at the sniper on the roof, as it has already penetrated her delicate skin.

Nova was his reason to keep going, he adored her more than anyone, vowed to protect her life for eternity even if that meant he could lose his.

He rushed to hold her fragile frame in his arms as a single tear fell from her eye down to the mask covering her soft features. Her eyes, in Simon’s world at least, were clouds for even when they fill with sorrow and drown the land, they paint the sky with unimaginable beauty.

Nova always feared this day would come, he’d always hold her so tight as she cried and burrowed her face so deep into his chest she could smell his scent for hours after. She’d sob for so long and he’d never get annoyed or bored with her, he was simply satisfied with the fact he was there for her, sometimes they’d fuck it out, and sometimes they wouldn’t, it all depended on his ‘beauty’, as he called her.

“I would rather have my bones crushed one by one, than see a single tear drop from your beautiful eyes, for your body is repairable, but your heart isn’t, my life.” He would say.

He was frightened to hold her that she’s pure, heavenly and unreachable for his sinned hands.  “It hurts, Simon.” She cooed out softly, barely being able to speak.

And at that very moment, he felt his heart break into a million pieces as he could not take her pain away all to himself, he’d never be able to forgive himself for being so late and far enough form the bullet to not pierce his chest instead of hers.

“Johnny! Call for evac! Nova has been shot!”

Simon was a brave, strong man. He never cried for animals that died in movies or for children that passed from cancer. Hell, not even for his soldiers that fought beside him in war. But he felt his eyes water as blood started draining from her beautiful face.

 “Don’t you dare close your eyes now, love. That’s an order!”

She smiled weakly as she held her cold hand against his cheek.

“Still bossy even in death, I see.”

“Don’t. Don’t let that word out of your mouth again, you hear me? You are not dying.”

Johnny rushed to his side taking in the sight before him; Simon crouched down on his knees holding what once was so cheerful and full of life, become tainted with blood and face painted of yellow.

“I called for evac but we are far from reach, Ghost, said they’ll be here in an hour.”

Simon Riley then prayed. He closed his teary eyes and prayed so hard to a god he didn’t know if he believed in, to save his beloved.

“You can do it, darling, I know you can. You have been through worse, I believe in you strong girl.” He babbled on and on about how you were stronger than a bullet, but he didn’t know if he was comforting you or himself. “My sweet girl.”

Johnny always suspected there was something between the lieutenant and his sergeant, but he was still a bit surprised at Simon’s affection and emotions.

They were inseparable back at base, even in missions, Simon always made sure Nova was right by him. Sometimes Soap and Gaz would make fun of their lieutenant as he always was looked out for her, made sure there was enough food left for her, pulled back her chair when she went to sit and scared off soldiers that bothered her, but he’d always deny their allegations and tell them to “shut it”, but they all knew he was just frightened and believed he was undeserving of any form of love, let alone yours.

He was smitten ever since the day you arrived, and if he was blinded by the moment he laid his eyes on you, his soul would not grieve, for in that very instance, it truly gazed upon perfection.

To say that he was scared was an understatement. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand or even dare to look away from her face, feeling as if she’d slip away if he did.

“Do you remember what we talked about before this mission? How we’d retire, get a cabin somewhere far in the woods, with a big dog? Hm?”

she stayed still for a minute before chuckling faintly. “And two cats.”

He laughed, genuinely laughed at her response, she was always cheerful and full of hope even in the worse of situations. “And two cats.” He repeated.

“You promised we’d name the dog Fluffy, and that he’d be a golden retriever. You never liked cats much though.”

“We can get as many cats and dogs as you want my love, just keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah? Johnny is here for you too.”

Ghost reached for her other hand and put in on top of Soap’s.

Johnny tried his best to not break down in front of his dying friend. They were always the trouble makers back at the base. Clowns, as Captain Price labeled the pair. They would always pull the silliest pranks on their teammates, they once poured a whole tub of salt into Gaz’s coffee, and cut holes in a few shirts of ghost’s after they both finished watching Mean Girls together, but Johnny got a taste of his own medicine once when his partner in crime turned against him and put neon green hair dye in his conditioner, and let’s just say that that did not end well as he gained a new look and an eye infection.

“They’re almost here, Nova, you’re gonna be back on your feet in no time, and we’ll pull even more pranks back in base, we can even get captain Price this time! We can sew a unicorn horn in the middle of his hat, like we said we would. How does that sound?” He frantically said.

Silence.

Dreaded silence was all that was heard before both her hands dropped to the ground beside her limp body. She was unresponsive.

Johnny couldn’t hold his tears back anymore and let them fall freely on her stomach as he clung so tightly to the corpse of his best friend.

Simon was crushed, to say the very least. He kept his warm hands on her beautiful face, and even in death’s grip she looked stunning, her face beamed underneath the setting sun, and her chapped lips curled up into a soft smile, and if it wasn’t for the blood on her clothes, you’d think she was in deep sleep.

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, even after evacuation arrived at scene, including captain price, Gaz and König. They all had to pry him off of her so that they could put her body on the carrier, and to the helicopter. That was the first and last time they had ever seen Ghost break down, so miserable and helpless.

Simon never once forgot about Nova, or her cheerful smile that lit up every room brighter than the early rays of the morning sun, nor her ridiculous jokes she’d crack at the wrong times. She was his light, his dream, and if he had a flower for every thought he had of her after her death, he’d walk through a beautiful garden for eternity.

[lethalchiralium]

“Look what Daddy got ye, Claire.” Johnny smirked at his little blonde babe, the girl clapping her little hands at him with a toothless smile. In his hand was a little stuffed rabbit, fabric hand-sewn from the market in town. “Here ye go, lass.”

The baby squealed in her high chair, she clutched her new toy in her hand while she eyed it curiously. Johnny leaned down and kissed her curls, the little thing squealed again. He felt a gentle hand on his lower back, he didn’t even have to look to know it was Simon.

“Didn’t hear ya come in.”

Johnny chuckled a little before standing up straight, hand seeking purchase on some inch of Simon’s side. He peered into view, Johnny’s hand settled on Simon’s hip before he kissed him. “Thought th’ babe was nappin’, so ah was quiet.”

Simon nodded towards Claire, his own hand gripped Johnny’s side. “She’s been lookin’ around for you all day. Little Bird found it funny, she laughed and made Claire cry.”

Johnny looked back at his daughter - who was chewing on an arm of her toy - then back to his husband. “Where is the wife anyway?”

“Laid up in bed. Woke up ill.”

Johnny gave a curious look, Simon smacked his side.

“Haven’t been doin’ anything, Johnny. You know that.” His hand reached for Claire, gently petting her shoulder. “She’s not sure she even wants another now. Mad that she’s sick ‘cause Claire was.”

“Mm.” Johnny nodded before he turned to look into the bedroom, seeing the shape of you underneath the quilts. “Join us when she’s down?”

Simon kissed him again, quick and chaste but with a smile. “Always.”

Johnny moved into the bedroom with a couple steps, his smile large as he slipped under the quilt with you. “Hello, Little Bird.”

“Gon’ get you sick.”

His head settled on yours, arm on your side and wrapped around your front. “Don’t matter.”

“You’ve got horse duty tomorrow.”

“Ah know it.”

“Johnny…”

He kissed your cheek before closing his eyes. “Sleep, Little Bird. Jus’ wanna hold ye.”

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Let's Have a Baby 2.0

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Simon Riley did not cry when his first daughter was born.

He didn’t know how to process his grief amid his love’s agony and emptiness. She spent days on end, curled into the plush rocker in the corner of the empty nursery or lying flat on her back, staring at the white ceiling. His guilt was no match for her shame – as she clutched the tiny hospital blanket to her chest, sobbing that she couldn’t name her. Couldn’t name the daughter that they didn’t get to bring home.

Her wails – I’m sorry I’m weak, Please don’t hate me, I'm fucking useless – echoed in Simon’s mind when he named that baby. He knew, in his heart, that Freyja loved her with her entire being, everything she had. He knew that, if she could, she would have picked the most beautiful name, better than anything he could have come up with on his own. So he named her after his wife, so his daughter would never leave his mind.

When Joan Vanadís was born, Simon stared at her for hours. He memorized every detail of her soft features, inhaled her scent, and poured over her deep brown eyes and button nose. His wife barely got to hold her in her first day of life. Sure, he had cried, as many fathers do in the delivery room. He was completely unsure of how it was possible that he helped create this beautiful, innocent little person.

But his son, oh his son, was an entirely different animal.

Where Joanie came roaring into the world, Arthur Simon was quiet. Quiet like his father, but the spitting image of his mum, minus Simon’s curved nose (Poor thing, he thought). The gentle cry from such a delicate thing broke whatever terrified stupor he’d been in since learning that they were having a boy. The doctor placed the blue bundle on his wife’s chest, and he instantly broke down. The ‘big bad Ghost’ was a blubbering mess as their son’s small hand curled into her skin, his eyes closed, and his mouth curled into a frown. He hesitated, hand hovering over the boy until Freyja’s came and pressed his palm into the tiny body, much smaller than Joanie’s when she was born. The steady rhythm of Arthur’s little lungs working underneath his fingertips made something inside his chest snap and crumble into dust.

Whatever fear he had about having a son was gone. As he had promised their daughters, he again swore that he would be better. Better than his father. He promised he would raise Arthur the way he should have been.

In the months that followed, taking care of his son healed a piece of Simon Riley. A piece that needed the father he had fought so hard to be.

The newborn seemed to have that effect on people, particularly overgrown men.

Arthur’s godfathers and grandfather returned to England about three months after he was born. Johnny brought his partners by the second they stepped off the plane, not even offering time to dress down in civilian clothes.

König was the first in the house, carrying his and Roach’s duffels as Johnny snuck in a moment alone with their partner outside. Freyja appeared, almost making him jump out of his skin at her sudden appearance.

“Herrgott, Kapitän!” he cried, hand on his pounding heart. “You scared me.”

Freyja had Artie strapped to her chest, sucking happily on his pacifier as he stared up at her face. He was already a certifiable mama’s boy, always enamored with her and clinging to her at every waking moment (and then some). “Oh, thank god,” she sighed, unraveling the fabric from her waist and shoulders. “I need a nap.”

His eyes blew wide through the holes of his hood, and he quickly stepped back. “Nein, Freyja, ich will ihn erschrecken—”

“König, nimm deinen Patensohn.” She didn’t allow him any time to hesitate, pressing the baby against his chest. The Austrian immediately dropped the bags from his shoulders, wrapped one arm under the baby’s bum, and rested one large hand against his back.

“Freyja–!”

She was gone.

König desperately wanted to give him back. He couldn’t take the heartbreak of another kid, especially his own nephew, staring at him with pure terror, trying to get away to safety. But this child, a sweet thing, had easily and without hesitation reached for him when Freyja moved to hand him off. It was as if he already sensed that his mom would never hand him off to someone that didn’t have her full trust.

He had gotten used to Joan by that point, but she was almost a year old when he saw her last. And she was much bigger than the infant boy in his arms, done up in an (admittedly) adorable, light blue onesie, with stripes nearly resembling those of the Scotland flag (Soap most definitely bought it for that reason and that reason alone). What if he dropped him? What if he held him too tight? What if he moved and hit Arthur’s head on something? What if–

A small tug caught his attention, his mask shifting downward. König glanced down at the boy curiously pulling the thing toward his mouth, which he put a stop to. “Iss das nicht, welpe. Du weißt nicht, wo es war,” he whispered, using a finger to nudge Arthur’s fist away from his mouth.

They simply stared at each other, the man holding the baby’s gaze, surprised that the little one was tolerating it. Then in a shocking turn of events, Art jerked the fabric up and over his head, making cooing and gurgling sounds that resembled an attempt at a laugh. Both under the hood now, König froze for a moment, completely and utterly bewildered. No grown adult, let alone an infant, had ever warmed up to the giant so quickly, immediately. Artie made another noise, and beyond his control, tears started to flow freely down his paint-smudged cheeks, a huge smile lighting up their dark cavern.

As König sobbed and shook, he pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, trembling body clinging to his godson like a lifeline.

König didn’t know how long he stood there with gentle but clumsy hands palming his scars and features, reveling in the attention. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t fail to notice what felt like Ghost’s hand on his opposite shoulder, brief but definitely present; then, the familiar press of Johnny’s cheek between his shoulder blades and the imprint of his firm hands on his hips.

Yeah, you could say Arthur Simon had a gift for healing.

.

.

.

“Uh oh, Dada!”

Freyja chuckled at her husband’s exasperated expression, staring at the ceiling as the plastic cup bounced across the floor. Simon had spent the last ten minutes trying to slice up an orange for Joan, who, in that time, had thrown the loose cereal onto the floor, tossed her plastic fork across the room, and finally dumped the cup of water into his lap.

“Yeah, uh oh,” he sighed, bending to pick up the cup but not bothering with his now-soaked pants. “Lovie, I’m almost done. You have to be patient. We don’t throw things.”

“No!”

“Look, Joanie, here.” Simon broke a wedge off and held it out for her. Two little hands took the fruit, holding the rind as Joan gummed at the soft flesh. “Can you say, ‘Thank you, Daddy’?”

“No!”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Arthur rested quietly in his mother’s arms with his cheek pressed against her breast as he dozed after finishing a bottle. Some mothers would have found Arthur’s level of attachment overwhelming; he rarely wanted to be put down, oftentimes crying out for her even when handed off to Simon. Similar to how Joanie gravitated to her father, Artie clung to her, and Freyja took pride in that.

When she looked up from her son, she found Simon had stripped out of his soiled sweatpants and now sat in only black boxer briefs. It was an unusually lazy day due to the poor weather outside. Simon got the kids up and fed at the usual time but didn’t do much to dress them, opting for fresh onesies. Joan’s was a dark navy, while Art’s was cream with mini tan teddy bears.

Joanie finished the orange slice quickly and placed the rind on her plate. She balled one hand into a fist and slapped the top with an open palm in a jerky movement. “Dada, more.”

“That’s right, ‘more’,” he praised, mimicking the sign for her. “Good job asking. Here.”

He placed the rest of her snack on the tray, and she immediately started nibbling at one. Simon leaned forward with his forearm on his knee, getting to eye level with the girl. “I’d really like an orange. Could you share with Daddy, lovie?” he asked while offering a hand. They had quickly learned to keep her hands occupied and practice hand-eye coordination in constructive ways, rather than letting her get bored. That was when she tended to start throwing things, as demonstrated by Simon’s now discarded pants.

She seemed to consider it, before dropping the piece she had already half finished in his palm and grabbing another.

“I meant one that wasn’t half-eaten, but this’ll do. Thank you.” He met Freyja’s eyes, his cheeks tight with laughter as he finished the fruit. 

The rain thundered against the glass windows, filling the space behind Joanie’s giggles at the funny faces Simon made. Her clothed feet kicked the legs of her chair. It was there – in their kitchen on a rainy Tuesday afternoon – Freyja realized just how content she was with the life they had built together. Observing her husband as he wiped the sticky juices dribbling down their daughter’s chin and pushed her blonde curls back; her touch brushing their son’s warm, squishy cheek with her thumb.

She soaked in the atmosphere a moment longer before speaking. “Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I think Artie’s my last.” Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. They’d never really discussed just how many kids they wanted. Against his initial fears, Simon was a natural; he was just as much in his element taking care of their kids as he was on the battlefield. She didn’t want to take that away if he wanted more, but she honestly couldn’t go through it again. Recovering from a c-section royally sucked, but giving birth naturally was not an option.

Simon’s brows pinched together as he swiveled away from Joanie, searching her face. He watched how her careful fingers stroked Arthur’s face, her other hand wrapped around the baby’s thigh to secure him to her. Her touch slid down to his chest, measuring his tiny heartbeat and steady breaths. He often did the same with both of their children; the gesture grounded him in their reality, and he figured it did the same for her. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll call for an appointment to get snipped.”

He said it as if he were talking about grabbing a takeaway on his way home from work, which gave Freyja a slight shock.

“Just like that?” she asked, turning in her chair to face him better. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve given me three beautiful babies,” Simon cooed, reaching to drag his large hands up and down her thighs. Freyja melted into his touch, legs spreading so his knee could slot between hers. “S’the least I can do. If you’re done, so am I. I had a feeling, anyway.”

“A vasectomy just seems a bit extreme. Maybe we can just use condoms?”

He raised a brow at her with an upside-down grin, challenging her. “Do you wanna try that again, with feeling? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re never gonna let me cum in you, ever again?”

“...Birth control?”

“Remind me, how did we have our daughters?”

“I hate you.”

“But I’m right.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Still right, though.” Simon rose from the table and leaned over her, resting his weight on one hand next to her thigh. He slipped the other around the back of her neck and tilted her head up, stealing a long, slow kiss. He muttered, “I’ll go next week,” against her lips before resuming, tongue gently prodding her bottom lip.

Freyja broke away and glanced up at him through her lashes with a teasing look. “You sure you can last that long without sex?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz shipped out to replace the other half of the task force a few days later. They were only gone for two weeks, executing the final excursion to retrieve a stolen weapons cache. König, Roche, and Price had done most of the leg work but decided that the sergeants and lieutenant were better equipped for the situation at hand. 

Johnny’s demolition expertise certainly came in handy this time around.

Still, Simon was sore and aching for the comfort of holding his kids and wife after what felt like the longest two weeks of his life. It was their first time leaving both babies with the other parent since Arthur was born.

Unlike his last time returning from a mission, the house was quiet, which allowed him time to take his boots off at the door and shed his mask. König’s car was parked in their driveway, leading him to believe the operative was spending the night in their guest room. Whether Roach was there too, he didn’t know.

The hall light at the top of the stairs flicked on, and Freyja appeared in a silky nightgown, standing on the last step with a tired smile and messy hair.

Simon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hummed while his eyes roamed her body with a dopey smile.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, locking her fingers behind his neck to tilt his head back, giving him access to slot their lips together. Freyja moaned quietly at the firm hands on her hips and thighs, gripping and digging into the soft flesh. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, humming against them. “No snags. Soap got to blow stuff up.” Simon’s mouth trailed down her jaw, throat, and chest, gentle and loving.

Her fingertips brushed a gash on his cheek. Most likely from shrapnel, if its depth and jagged edges were any indicators.

“M’fine, love.”

“Joanie’s out cold, but Artie’s awake if you wanna see him. I just finished feeding him.”

That woke him up a little bit. A soft breath of air tickled the wet spots on Freyja’s skin from his silent chuckle. Simon’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he nuzzled his face in her chest as he soaked in her presence. They’d gone more extended periods without seeing each other, but whether they were apart for a week or a few months, he still missed her like crazy.

“She doing better in her room?”

“Much. She’s having some nightmares but goes back down eventually. She’s having a good night.”

“Mmm, in that case, I won’t wake her. We can surprise her in the mornin’.”

When Freyja turned to lead him upstairs, he couldn’t help himself as his hand swung up and connected with her ass, a sharp CRACK! resonating through the air.

“Simon!”

“M’sorry, couldn’t help it. You left yourself wide open on that one,” he teased, his voice low to not wake their daughter or guests. As expected, Arthur’s quiet coos reached his ears the closer they got to their bedroom. Simon dropped his gear by their bedroom door and approached the bassinet on Freyja’s side of the bed. The little boy stared in his general direction, wiggling like a (precious) worm.

The man beamed down at him and carefully slid his hands under Artie’s back with his thumbs hooked under the infant’s arms, lifting him out of the crib. “Hi, beautiful boy,” he mumbled, pressing his pursed lips against his cheek, leaving multiple kisses in the same spot. He held his son back out for a moment, a confused expression on his face once he pulled away.

“Where’d it go?”

Freyja shifted to her knees on their bed and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering down at their son. “What?”

“The baby scrunch.”

“Huh. You’re right. I didn’t even notice.”

“I just…last time I held him, he still curled up. I missed it,” he said, a grown man literally pouting.

“I know…” She let her hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest. “I’m sorry, Si. I know it sucks. Being away comes with the job, and that means we miss things. We’ve been lucky so far with Joanie, honestly.”

Arthur had quieted down, sucking his pacifier as he studied Simon’s painted face and clinging to his shirt.

A knock at the doorframe caught their attention, and all three turned to the source. König rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bare feet padding across the carpet until he reached them. “Hello, Lieutenant. Did the operation bode well?”

“Yeah, everything was just as you said it – was…”

The baby had started to whine again and let go of his dad, reaching for his uncle with grabby hands. The man’s face flushed, but he didn’t make a move to take the baby. Once the shock wore off, Simon took the initiative to hand Art off, and König gladly received him.

He immediately settled again, laying his head back in the crook of König’s elbow, humming softly against his pacifier. “Hallo, welpe,” he said in a hushed tone, rocking his nephew gently.

“Well, that’s new,” Simon grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed to avoid awkwardly standing there. Simon wasn’t too annoyed, but he was somewhat sad. He had missed his babies dearly and looked forward to some serious attention. But his usually shy baby, who never wanted to be handed off to anyone besides his mother and occasionally Simon, was suddenly choosing their friend over him.

How much had he missed in such a short amount of time?

“I apologize, sir. I am as surprised as you are. He’s a good boy; I think we have been around so much the last two weeks…”

“König.”

“Ja?”

“Drop the sir. We’re not on base. I’m not mad.”

König blinked at him, confused. “It’s… Scheiße, wie sagt man ‘gebräuchlich’ auf Englisch? Ich weiß es nicht. It is normal to use sir where I’m from.”

Simon glared back. “And this is my house. You’ve done as my wife has said to gain my son’s affection. So now, you will do what I say to get back in my good graces after robbing me of my child. Are we clear?”

“I feel…bad. Please, take him back–”

He shook his head and stood again, scratching at the light stubble that had formed on his cheeks over the last few days. “And I’m telling you, no. It’s fine. I have to shower anyway.”

“Alles klar.”

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[cilliansgirl]

call me crazy but the mom and dad apes from Tarzan (kerchak & kala) are so Simon x fem!OC

I said what I said.

[oceantornadoo]

gender neutral reader x simon riley fics and drabbles

gaz’s perspective (ghoap x reader)

home invasion

break up and make up

college student headcanons

simon riley in love

simon riley in love (by the seasons)

i like you big (tw body talk)

break in

say don’t go

bar fight

[violetbranwen]

Kate Laswell's Wife!Reader Masterlist

Part 1: Meeting the Team (Fluff/worldbuilding with a hint of smut at the end (not super explicit)

Part 2: Calling Soap and Ghost on their BS. (More world building and the beginnings of GHOAP)

Misc thoughts

Main CoD Masterlist

[ghostsbabygirl99]

I saw this on tiktok as soon as I opened it... MY HEART CANT TAKE IT ❤️❤️