#modern warfare 2 imagines

[ragingbookdragon]

Alejandro sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, tiredness pulling at his bones as he looked over the files and reports his men had compiled. “This isn’t enough,” he muttered, looking at Rudy who was just as tired.

“Ale, we don’t have the manpower to gather more intelligence. No one is opening their mouth on Valeria’s movements since she was released.”

“If she gets out of Las Almas, we’ll never find her.”

“What if she already is?”

He gazed at Rudy and let out another sigh as his phone started ringing. “Let’s pray she isn’t.” he raised the phone to his ear, a tired smile on his face as he answered, “Mi alma, how lovely it is to hear your voice. I’ve missed you today.”

A beat skipped over the line before a young woman’s voice followed. “Uh…Seño—Colonel Vargas?”

Immediately, the sleepiness was gone from his demeanor as he stood up and demanded, “Who is this? Where is my wife?”

“Oh, oh she’s right here, sir—Señora Vargas, say hi—HIIII—This is Nurse Lisa at Saint Maria’s, um, your wife is on some pretty heavy pain medication at the moment so she’s not fully here.”

“What happened?” Rudy was already rounding the table with his keys out.

“She had an unfortunate accident at work with a box cutter. Took a good chunk out of her hand, so we had to stitch her up. Legally, we can’t dismiss her given the amount of medication and local anesthesia we had to give her. Can you possibly come get her or send someone to release her?”

Alejandro let out a groan and waved Rudy to follow. “I’m on my way.”

“Good, we’ll just—wait! Señora Vargas you can’t eat that! Sir, I have to go!”

***

As he helped his wife into the backseat, he looked back at the nurse still giggling away at them. “How long until this wears off?”

“Oh, just an hour or so. Give her a hydro before she goes to sleep. She’ll be out like a baby.”

Before he could say anything, his wife poked her head from the side and pointed at Alejandro. “This is my baby,” she grinned, wide and toothy. “I caught this big fish all on my own. Didn’t even have to show my boobs either.”

“Mi alma!”

The nurse didn’t even seem to be fazed. “Really? Did you show your butt?”

She waggled her brows and pointer at him. “More like my pus—”

“OKAY GOODNIGHT!” Alejandro shouted and pushed her in the door, shutting it behind her. “Goodnight, Nurse Lisa, and thank you.”

She waved at them. “Come back in a week to check her stitches!”

***

“Rudy!” she shouted as she saw him in the driver’s seat, leaning up to hug him around the neck rather lopsidedly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Rudy smiled and patted her arm. “As am I, Señora Vargas. How are you feeling?”

“Do not call me Señora Vargas. That’s what we call Mama Vargas.”

“What should I call you then?” he mused, and she winked.

“I dunno…what do you want to call me?”

“Hmm…” he pretended to think as he started driving around the bend. “How about… Señora Vargas?”

“Rudy!” she whined, laying her head on his shoulder. “‘s’not fair…you call Alejandro Ale sometimes…I want a nickname too.”

“How about bombón?”

She blinked. “Did you just call me baboon?”

He snickered. “No, bombón.”

“Bombón?”

“Mhm.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked at Alejandro who was grinning. “Oh, just sweet and soft.”

“I like it,” she smiled, kissing his cheek. “Se gracias, Rudy. Eres un amigo maravilloso.”

Rudy felt his cheeks warm, not at the kiss but at the affection in her voice, the real love. “De nada, bombón.”

She patted his head and turned her attention to Alejandro. “Mi amorrrrrrrr.”

“Mi almaaaaaaaa,” he cooed back and she tried to wiggle into the front seat and he held her upper body as she laid her head on his chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing her head. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy…and hungry.” She looked up at him. “You’re so beautiful, Alejandro.”

He chuckled. “Not as beautiful as you, mi alma.”

“Shut up, I’m being serious.” She lifted her bandaged hand and with her two fingers still poking out, gently touched his face. “I’m so lucky to have you. You mean the world to me and more. I could lose it all, be broke, homeless, and nowhere to go, and I’d be okay if it meant I still had you with me.” She smiled at him, hazy and drunk on pain medication and love. “Whenever I think about us growing old, I’m not scared of going before or after you. I know that wherever we end up next, we’ll be together. Every life, me and you. How it’ll always be.”

Alejandro felt the corner of his eyes begin to sting and he gently brushed her face and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “Mi alma, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor,” she whispered back and pressed her lips to his vest; for a moment she lay there, and Alejandro had figured she’d fallen asleep until she popped up and asked, “Will you make me a margarita when we get home?”

“Absolutamente no.”

“But Alejandrooooooooo!”

[sailorsolar12]

Shadows of the Past

Okay so this is the first fic for Modern Warfare 2 I am doing...please go easy on me. Yes, I know. I am not dead like many thought. I...Life has started to catch up to me and it isn't pretty.

Title: Shadows of the Past

Rating: Teen for the mentions of violence

Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley

Pairing: Ghost x GN Reader (Y/N is not used)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Character injuries, fluff

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow across the city. Among the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, an air of tension hung heavy. The world was on the brink of chaos, and the covert operations unit known as Task Force 141 was at the forefront of the battle against the encroaching darkness.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, a legendary figure within the Task Force, moved with grace and precision through the dimly lit alleyways. His iconic skull mask concealed his face, leaving only his piercing blue eyes visible. Ghost was a man of few words, but his reputation as a ruthless and efficient operator spoke volumes.

In the heart of a derelict building, Ghost hunched over a table strewn with maps, surveillance photos, and intelligence reports. He was analyzing the latest data on a suspected arms dealer who had been funneling weapons to hostile factions across the globe. As he traced his finger across the city layout, he couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was different from the rest.

Just then, the door swung open, and the rest of the Task Force filed in. Captain John Price, the grizzled leader of the team, entered with a determined expression. Beside him was a gender-neutral individual, a newcomer to the Task Force who had quickly proven their skills in combat and their resourcefulness in the field. They had earned the respect of their teammates, but Ghost remained skeptical, always one to keep his guard up.

"Listen up," Price began, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "We've tracked our target to a remote compound on the outskirts of the city. Intel suggests that he's stockpiling chemical weapons there. Our objective is to infiltrate the compound, gather evidence, and if possible, apprehend the target."

The room was tense as Price continued to outline the mission details. Ghost studied the newcomer out of the corner of his eye, their focus unwavering, their determination palpable. Despite himself, Ghost couldn't help but be impressed.

Hours later, under the cover of darkness, the Task Force assembled near the compound. Ghost and the newcomer were assigned to breach the rear entrance, while Price and the others covered the front. The night air was cool and charged with anticipation as the team split into pairs and moved into position.

Ghost and the newcomer moved like shadows, their steps silent and deliberate. They communicated through subtle gestures, a language known only to those who had spent countless hours training together. As they neared the entrance, Ghost paused, turning to face the newcomer. They exchanged a brief nod, a silent affirmation of their shared purpose.

The breach was executed flawlessly, and Ghost and the newcomer swept into the compound with guns raised. The interior was dimly lit, crates of weapons stacked along the walls. They moved with precision, clearing rooms and eliminating guards with calculated efficiency. It was during this chaotic ballet of combat that Ghost began to recognize the undeniable skill and determination of the newcomer.

As they moved deeper into the compound, they uncovered evidence of the arms dealer's nefarious operations. Documents, shipping manifests, and encrypted communications painted a grim picture of a world on the brink of chaos. Ghost felt a spark of respect for the newcomer, a recognition of their shared commitment to the mission.

But the mission took an unexpected turn when they cornered the arms dealer in a dimly lit room. He was armed and desperate, his eyes wild with fear and defiance. Shots rang out, the air thick with tension as bullets whizzed past. In the chaos, the newcomer took a hit, their shoulder grazed by a bullet.

Ghost's instincts kicked in, his focus shifting from the arms dealer to the fallen teammate. He provided cover fire as they retreated to a safer position. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he applied pressure to the wound, his movements sure and steady. In that moment, Ghost saw beyond the mask and the reputation, recognizing the vulnerability that lay beneath.

The arms dealer was subdued, the mission accomplished, but Ghost's thoughts were with the wounded newcomer. As the team regrouped and the compound was secured, they were airlifted to safety. The newcomer's wound was tended to, and Ghost watched from a distance, his usually stoic demeanor softened by concern.

Days turned into weeks, and as the newcomer recovered, Ghost found himself drawn to their side. They trained together, their movements fluid and synchronized. They shared stories, laughter, and quiet moments of camaraderie. Ghost's skepticism began to wane, replaced by a growing bond that he couldn't quite explain.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon once more, Ghost found himself sitting beside the newcomer on the rooftop of their safehouse. The city stretched out before them, a tapestry of lights and shadows. The air was filled with a sense of possibility, of second chances.

"You know, I wasn't sure about you at first," Ghost admitted, his voice low and measured.

The newcomer turned to him, a wry smile tugging at their lips. "I could tell."

Ghost chuckled softly, a rare sound that felt like a balm to his own wounded soul. "But you proved yourself. And not just on the field. You're resilient, resourceful."

The newcomer's gaze held his, their eyes a mirror of understanding. "You're not so bad yourself, Ghost."

The nickname, once a source of mystery and intimidation, now felt like a badge of honor. Ghost leaned back, his shoulders brushing against the wall, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself relax.

As the night wore on, the temperature dropped, and the two of them huddled closer together for warmth. The stars above were like distant beacons, guiding them forward. Ghost's fingers brushed against the newcomer's, and without a word, they intertwined, a silent promise of companionship and understanding.

The war raged on, the battles growing fiercer, but Ghost and the newcomer faced each challenge side by side. Their bond deepened, a connection forged in the crucible of conflict and shared purpose.

And so, it was on a quiet night, after a particularly grueling mission, that Ghost found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, lost in thought. The weight of the world was heavy on his shoulders, the ghosts of the past always lurking at the periphery of his mind.

The door to his room creaked open, and the newcomer entered, their gaze gentle and unwavering. Without a word, they approached Ghost, their presence a soothing balm to his weary soul. They sat down beside him, their shoulder pressing against his, a silent reminder that he was not alone.

"You know," the newcomer said softly, "even ghosts need someone to lean on."

Ghost turned to them, his gaze meeting theirs, and in that moment, he felt a warmth he had long denied himself. He reached out, his fingers grazing their cheek, and they leaned into his touch, their eyes closing in contentment.

"Maybe you're right," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

The room was filled with a quiet intimacy, the air heavy with unspoken words and the promise of tomorrow. As exhaustion claimed them, they shifted closer, Ghost's arms wrapping around the newcomer, their bodies fitting together as if they had always belonged.

In the stillness of the night, beneath the weight of their pasts and the uncertainty of the future, Ghost and the newcomer found solace in each other's arms.

[ghostlychief]

MW2 Masterlist

For all other COD MW2 characters other than Ghost

Get Behind Me; John Price/fem!reader; Joel and Ellie from The Last of Us Type Relationship

Headcanons: COD dating a Tall Woman; 1k+

[sweetnothingtm]

♡ i imagine that Simon Riley is the type to spoil you rotten ♡

Simon doesn’t check his bank statements anymore - just hands you his card and plants a sloppy kiss on your smiling face.

Simon carries all your shopping bags without hesitation, even while you drain him of his worth. He scrolls his phone while you shop aimlessly, his eyes lazily dragging to your frame as you showcase what you want while he waves a hand at you.

yes - anything you want. yes - i mean it, sweetheart.

He follows you like a lost dog through the stores, practically begging for your attention as you wiggle your ass into a million different outfits.

I bet he takes you to all the lingerie stores. It’s his favorite part of the day, squeezed into a changing room as you strip in front of him. He always has a devious smirk, latching the stall lock into place as you hang up every scrap of fabric.

You’d twirl around in a tight lace, lip caught between your teeth as Simon palms himself through his jeans. He’d stare at you, eyes glowing with desire as you innocently checked yourself out and hummed.

do you like it? how do i look?

you look good enough to let me fuck you right now. matter of fact - bend over for me, sweetheart.

Simon would press you up against the mirror, dick pressed against your ass with his breath fanning against your neck. His teeth would graze against your skin, little whimpers coming from your lips as you roll your hips.

His fingers would press into your waist, digging into the silk panties with a price tag hanging off of them. $45 - damn expensive for a pair, but he considered you priceless.

When he inevitably ruins the fabric by cumming all over it, you’d have a little pout spread across your face. He’d roll his eyes, promising you another pair and splaying a hand against your ass while his camera clicks for a photo.

you look too fucking good, might just have to fuck you again when we’re home. you’d like that - wouldn’t you little slut?

Simon Riley would shrug his shoulders when the sales person would ask why theres panties in the trash. He’d swipe his card, hardly looking at the bill as he picked up another bag and watched you glow with happiness.

He always buys you dinner, opens every door for you, and slings his jacket around your shoulders. His hand always rests on your thigh when he drives, fingers tracing delicate shapes on your soft skin.

When he looks over to you, you’re already glowing with adoration and love - a twinkle in your eye as he squeezes your leg and hums.

did you like the gifts, princess? i spoil you huh?

[reds-skull]

I really should draw Soap more with his red mask, as you all can tell I love it

[yawnderu]

Simon Riley, whose most intimate display of trust is laying naked with you. He's not only trusting you with his body, but his soul. His scars tell stories that will never come out of his lips, leaving him as an enigma even when you're married.

He almost flinches out of reflex when your soft hand drifts down to his ribs, caressing the scars that being hung from a meat hook left him. Memories of Roba and the torture in Mexico fill his brain no matter how hard he tries to simply focus on how perfectly your body fits against his, skin on skin.

It takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it, distant gaze met by teary eyes and a trembling lower lip, your heart hurting for him. Burly arms wrap around your waist, bringing you even closer, his chest tight against yours, hearts touching— the way they were always meant to be.

His eyes go to the ring on his finger, gaze immediately softening, only holding you even closer when he feels your tears moistening up his bare neck, rubbing your back in a silent offer of comfort.

Thank you for this second chance at life.

[katz-chow]

sorry sex with simon

warnings: pnv, fem!reader, fluffy, edging/denial, msub, fsoftdom

simon doesn't know how to apologize besides throwing himself into your mercy. he loves you and can't think of any other way to express to you how never means to hurt you, how everything he does is to make sure you're comfortable and taken care of.

even after this stupid little argument that he had with you, he didn't even know why he was fighting. he just realized too late when he saw tears form in your eyes and your feet stomping off into your shared bedroom.

so here is his penance, his apology: giving you soft kisses on your shoulder as his arms hold you up over his cock.you whine and groan as his cock slips in and out of your dripping pussy. he didn't want to hurt you and he didn't want to make you feel any more discomfort so he, in turn, used more lube than he normally would. the sounds of skin slapping skin normally would have made you blush in embarrassment and cause you to curl up into him. this time around, you couldn't care less, the way he's making you feel was a clear juxtaposition to how to feel just an hour before.

you feel his breath, heavy and hot in the crook of your neck, you pussy pulses around him and over your moans, he gives you one in return. his tongue licks and sucks on your shoulder gently, "m' sorry baby...shouldn't have said that..."

you whine and wrap your arms around his neck and his back, your tits pressed against his chest, "can we...ah- can we not..." you suck in a breath, "do this right now, si? when you're in me?"

he mumbles something you can't process or hear as one of his arms unravels and goes to rub tight circles around your clit. your back arches into his touch and a loud groan of his name rings out.

"wanna show you...how sorry i am.." he pants as his dick throbs inside of you, so so close to cumming, fill you up in his sticky release. the snap of his hip dials down into a roll. he hums as he feels your body start to tense up as the tension builds in your lower stomach.

crescent indents form in his back as your nails dig in from the pleasure he's able to give you, the amount of bliss 10x as strong from the lack of such a euphoric feeling you've been feeling. his thumb rubs your aching clit just a bit harder and your groans turned into a cacophony of whimpers and high pitched squeals as your orgasm runs through you.

simon feels your body tensing up in his arms, and damn does his cock feel it too. the way your cushiony walls pulsate and clamp dowm on him, god he was hard, it was unbearable. he wanted to cum so fucking badly, been wanting to put a load in you for half an hour now but he won't let himself. he said he was showing you how sorry he was, and that's exactly what he's doing.

your breathing steadies itself and you curl up closer to him, resting your face onto the top of his head, smelling in his yours shampoo. your whines become hiccups as your high dies down, overwhelmed and tired.

"i'm sorry lovie..." he begins, his hand slipping out from between your legs and his hips start to roll his cock in and out of your raw pussy. you groaned and tense up at the overstimulation, clinging onto him.

he turns off his brain as you help him, pulling your hips up and down. he lets out a breathy moan and holds you closer, snapping his throbbing cock inyo your harder, faster. his lips on your neck as he prays to you a mantra.

"m'sorry..so sorry, lovie..." simon's close he can feel it, he just needs two words from you, that's it. he needs you to let him cum, god-seeing you sad is punishment enough, mixed with the pain of his tight balls and overly sensitive cock makes him a brainless mush.

he couldn't take it anymore as he pounds into you, mumbling messily into your ear, your scent overwhelming him- you overwhelming him. "m'sorry m'sorry...so sorry. m'sorry sorrysorrysorry...."

"it's okay, si...it's okay." god, that's all he needs as his prayers to you were answered, his mantra stops with a restrained moan, quickly turning into whimpers like a hurt puppy as you feel his thick cum fill you, dripping down his shaft.

his arms loosen the grip he has on you and you slide down his dick just a bit and he bites into your shoulder, the friction making him overwhelmed. the two of you sit like that for a bit, leaning on each other to stay upright. you don't even think simon had anything to think about.

"you okay?" you ask him, grounding him from his headless space that he had slipped to, dependent on you for everything.

you feel him nod and his arms lift you up, pulling out of you. he gives you a gentle kiss on your lips and your hands find his cheeks, wiping away his tears. "m' really sorry.."

"i know, baby...i know.." you assure him and he lays back onto the headboard.

simon riley would gladly give up his whole being for you, and luckily for him, you'll always accept it, holding him together until he stitch himself up again.

master list | letter box | main directory

stop by the letter box!

[hayleybarnesx]

Thinking about Simons dog, Riley, cuddled up at the bottom of your bed after Simon kicks him out the office for disturbing him while he’s working.

This big scary German shepherd snuggled up with you like a cat while your both fast asleep under piles of blankets and pillows, a stark contrast from the single pillow and blanket Simon sleeps with at night.

After the first night, Simon finds Riley missing more often the not. A quick look into your room when Riley’s due a bath and he’s found him.

He can’t help but internally smile at the sight, his favourite pair basking in each others warmth, Simon quickly noticed Riley’s been brushed and washed already. His fur sleek and fluffed up, smelling like vanilla.

Simon took excellent care of Riley, he was properly pampered and it warmed his cold heart slightly seeing the same care applied from you, perhaps Simon would trust you with his sunshine.

[mistydeyes]

what 141's military personnel file looks like

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

NOTE: NOT CANON! most of the information is based off of the wiki/my medical file post

summary: So what exactly were in those dossiers Price gave to Laswell at the end of MW 2019? Here's a look into those, along with some reminders/sticky notes. Answering this ask :)

template if you’d like to try it out!

ALSO! the ages were such a headache this post did a great job explaining how confusing the wiki/some statements are so please check it out

warnings: medical inaccuracies, mention of wounds/wound care, mentions of depression, medical terminology

a/n: these came out better than i thought! also 2004 was such a bad year for Price and Ghost

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

[lvlyghost]

Tainted Heart

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: After not seeing you for a few weeks, you come back to the base acting strange.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

TW: sexual themes, smut but not too explicit. anxiety, self-doubt. worried!simon, poor baby thinks he's done something wrong💔comfort and fluff, mind the english!🐸

A/N: okay so yeah, i can't believe I finished this so fast. anyway enjoy!🥹✨🫶🏻💚gif's not mine' iloveyousimonriley!💗

Masterlist✨

You try to even your shaky breathing before opening the door of the meeting room. Taking more than usual to toughen up, the last thing you want is anyone asking if you were okay. Not even your teammates and especially not Simon. Hands trembling when you open and close them, a cold sweat that runs down your spine with the clear signs of anxiety that will soon start to bubble up if you don't get this over with soon.

Another moment passes when all you can hear is your own heart racing in your ears and the world spins for a second; pushing the door open you enter. Everyone's already there, sitting around the wooden table. Four pair of eyes find you, Soap and Gaz smile your way and John nods motioning for you to take your seat next to Ghost. But you can't bring yourself to do it. You need space. You need to be left alone to battle with your own mind. Instead you grab one of the chairs and set it far from them, sitting in the far corner.

Price's eyebrows furrow but doesn't comment on it, merely resuming what he was just telling the rest of the task force. Everyone's attention is back to the Captain except for Ghost. Ghost who's frowning so hard behind the mask at your refusal to join them. It sparks a sense of irritation and worry.

He knows he shouldn't be feeling that way. You are not even together, even if a few nights spent in each other's rooms had taken place, he considered himself something akin to a friend more than just your superior or a few hook ups here and there. Were you important to him? Absolutely yes. He needed to see your eyes, needed you to look his way so he can see through you as he usually does. Your beautiful eyes would tell him what he needed to know.

But you ignore him.

Glaring at Price without really looking. Lost in your head. You know you should be paying attention but it's all static to your ears, it's the sound of every pen writing down on a sheet. Of feet being dragged across the tile floor. Bodies shifting in their seats. Someone sipping on water.

One of the boys making a comment as your leg bounces up and down not being able to stop it. All the voices inside are muffled and you just want to get out of there so bad.

"Sergeant?" Price calls you, raising his voice and pulling yourself back from your stupor.

Eyes blinking rapidly as your attention turns to him and the room is deadly silent. Was that a hair pin dropping in the hallway?

"Yes Captain?" You ask, body numb and cold.

Price sighs.

"I asked if there's anything else you want to know about the mission? You're leaving in two weeks with Ghost."

"Oh." The answer is muttered so lowly they can barely hear your voice. You find the face of the Lieutenant for one second before looking away as if it had burned you. Simon's body goes stiff. "No."

Not convinced but not wanting to push for another answer he dismisses all of you. You're storming out of the room before he's fully done, leaving the four men taken aback by your strange demeanor.

It's not until you've reached the women's barracks that you stop. If anyone had followed you, you didn't notice too preoccupied and deep in that somber haze that's been clouding your mind since you got back from home.

Memories of everything that went wrong. And the memories of the man across the room.

-

A beautiful, warm feeling forms in your belly, big hands tightly hold your waist. His face hiding in the crook of your neck as your arms circle his broad shoulders holding onto him, sinking up and down on his lap. Sweet sounds of skin slapping against skin echo around the quiet night of his room. Simon mutters sweet nothings in your ear as you both chase your highs, coming undone at the same time he forces you took straight to his brown eyes and your heart flutters, overwhelmed at the way he takes in your presence and breathes the essence of you. Just you as a whole. He doesn't let you go until he's spilled everything inside you, massaging you over the soft fabric of your —his— shirt that neither bothered to take off, too enraptured to care.

"Hey, you with me?" giving a small squeeze to your hip Simon let's you touch his face and trace the scars that adorn the uneven parts of his skin. He notices the way your attention seems to drift away from where you are.

"Yeah. Was thinking about us."

His brows lift.

"What about us?" Inhaling deeply you shake your head lifting from your spot and walking on somewhat wobbly legs, Simon follows you to the bathroom wondering why you're acting so strange. "Sweetheart?"

"It's nothing, I promise." He watches as you clean yourself, he could've done it —he has every other time— but now with your sudden change he doesn't know what to think. "I have to go. My parents are waiting for me."

Clenching his jaw he decided to not pressure you on the matter. Ghost was aware that visiting your parents or talking about them struck a nerve within you.

"Want me to give you a ride?" You look at him through the mirror and shake your head in denial.

"I can take the bus."

"Love..."

"It's fine, Simon." You utter. "It's fine."

Turning around on your heels you walk past him, who stays anchored to the same spot outside the bathroom. He watches as you gather your belongings and begin to dress. Simon crosses his arms over his chest.

"Text me when you get home, please?"

A curt nod is all you give him.

-

You never texted him although he had tried to reach out to you in the next few days and you try not to think about everything that's happened as you strip naked and step in the shower. Warm water washing your body, forehead pressing on the cool tiles of the wall. Shoulders shaking, hands coming to your mouth trying to muffle your sobs.

The all too clear picture of your father telling you no one could ever love you. Your mother doing her best to console you when you had told her the truth.

"I- I think I love him mom." sad eyes fixated on the far wall. "And I don't know what to do."

She had taken your hand with a beautiful smile on her lips.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, darling."

Her words resounding in your ears, and your eyes glimmer with hope. Hope that maybe she's right.

But you had promised to never let it get that far. You'll lose him and that's what pains you the most.

Girl's snickering and walking in the shared showers can be heard from behind, you can't see them but the sound of their giggles fade away in an instant. Gone as soon as they came. Turning off the water pipes you wrap yourself with the white towel neatly hung on the bathroom rack and the moment you slide the curtain open you're met with brown eyes leaning against the opposite wall. He's been waiting, hearing you cry. Shooing away all the women who came with a single hard look their way. No doubt gossiping about the Lieutenant being in the women's section.

A long silence stretches between the two before he finally breaks it, pushing himself off the wall and slowly walking towards you, who holds the towel against your body in a vice-like grip.

"Haven't heard from you in days. Weeks." He starts, eyes following the droplets that travel down your body and back to your face. You've been crying. Simon hates seeing you cry and not being able to do anything about it. It makes him feel powerless, worthless. What do you call a man that can't even help his girl? "You've been ignoring me. May I ask what's going on?"

He's calm, controlled despite the rage within him. You never texted him back that day, never answered his calls leaving him worried and dwelling on the whole situation.

His own insecurities sparked the worst.

"Nothing, just personal stuff Lt." clearing your throat you try to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

"Bloody hell don't call me that. I'm asking as...-"

"As what?" You bite back, eyes snapping up at him as tears collect in your eyes. Simon grits his teeth he wants to say a lot but no words come out. "You shouldn't be here. People will talk."

"I'm not leaving until you speak. What's got you like this." You shake your head. "Fucking Christ I can't fix this if you don't tell me." He hisses.

"There's nothing to fix!"

"Just bloody talk to me, I'm losing my mind was it something I said?" He's not screaming but he's panting hard. "Was it something I did?!" He demands, big terrified, desperate orbs screaming for a sign.

"I fell in love with you!" You confess, eyes widening in horror at what you just said. Fervently shaking your head and walking back, away from him. Simon's eyes widen for a fraction before he's reaching out again hands cradling your face in them with a wild, desperate look. Your vision blurred thanks to the tears.

"Say it again." He pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. Like the sound of snow falling from the sky during the winter. You freeze in your spot, chewing on your lower lip.

"I fell in love." His body relaxed, all the tension he has been bearing on his shoulders for the past days slowly fades. "And we agreed we couldn't let this happen. Never. Forgive me Simon."

"Silly girl." He breathes in, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

"What?" You mumble, one hand coming up to rest on one of his.

"You're in my mind even when you're not supposed to be."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I'm an idiot." His forehead connects with yours and you can finally breathe again. After the hellish days at home, the sense of being loved and protected by the man you love is enough to overwhelm you. "Thought I was losing you for a moment. Nearly lost my mind, love."

"No. Never." You promise, hugging him tightly against your body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Simon I just... I just didn't know what to do."

"S'alright." He soothes you. "I've got you." Feeling like the luckiest man alive, even if he didn't deserve to be loved.

He remembers the moment when he had fallen for you, the day you smiled up at him under the starry night on the roof of the safe house, covered in blood and dirt.

He knew there would be no one else after you.

[ragingbookdragon]

The sight of his wife in the kitchen pulls a sigh of relief from his lungs as he sets his bag down behind the couch and crosses into the room behind her, arms winding around her body as he props his chin on her shoulder, chest pressed to her back. “Alejo,” she cooes, hands not stilling as she continues to make the drink in front of her. “How was work.”

He groans low in his throat, content to not even open his mouth to speak, but she deserves a response. “Long,” he mutters, nuzzling the side of her head. “What’re you making?”

“A new drink,” she replies, cutting a sliver of orange to garnish the rim; before holding it up for him. “Try it.”

Alejandro takes the glass of amber liquid from her, staring at the orange slice bouncing in the liquor. “Salud.” She watches as he knocks the drink back, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth, eyes widening as the heat of the cinnamon whiskey hits him; he manages to swallow it down, letting out a cough and, “Eso es fuerte.” He swallows again, smacking his lips as the smoothness of the rose and orange linger, filling his mouth with a sweetness. “Y muy bueno.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and starts putting the bottles away. “Cinnamon whiskey, rose tea, and orange. Pack a punch with the whiskey and leave the sweetness to recover you.” The bottles clink as she puts them back into the cabinet. “A strong drink with hints of softness and love beneath. Kind of like the man it’s named after.”

Alejandro already feels the dopey grin coming across his lips. “Oh? You’re naming drinks after men now?”

“I am,” she retorts with a grin and looks at him. “‘The Alejandro’ is what that’s called. My husband in a glass. Courageous, passionate, and loving.”

He feels the weight of the day already fading as she takes his hands and pulls him towards the stairs. “Mi alma?”

“Hmm?”

“Te amo.”

Her smile practically resets his heart beat as she pulls herself to his chest, wraps her arms around his neck and says, “I love you, mi amor, por siempre y para siempre.”

[tryingtoremembermyname]

it’s me. i’m bitches.

[sweetnothingtm]

simon riley who’s obsessed with a camgirl.

simon riley who has his card memorized so he can endlessly tip you with little messages of praise.

good girl. what a good dirty whore. that’s it, smile for daddy. finished so soon? i won’t ask twice - again, princess. wish i could fuck those little plump lips. nasty little slut.

simon riley who’s your top viewer and spends thousands of dollars donating you gifts.

simon riley who jerks himself off to saved videos of you smiling sweetly as you dip your hand in between your thighs.

simon riley, who bought you special lingerie for Valentine’s Day just to see you cum over and over and over in the tight red lace.

simon riley - pussy whipped for a girl who’s never met him but who he’s destined to ruin with all his dirty little fantasies.

damn my bad I’ll stop…

[ghosties--writing]

I wanna be the reason Simon Riley has to slightly tilt his phone away from others when he reads it.

[temeyes]

Captain Garrick's first day on the job!!

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.