#mw2022

[mockerycrow]

The 141 boys having to physically hold back their much smaller but freakishly strong female teammate or S /O when someone is stupid enough to insult her and/or her boys

!!fem!reader!! — can interpreted as platonic or romantic

“Fuckin’ hell, hey—“ Price hisses as he stumbles, his arm wrapped around one of yours as Soap holds onto your other arm. They’re both in stances to hold you back yet despite your size, BOTH of them are struggling. Soap lets out a grunt as you struggle, nearly ripping yourself out of their grips. “Let go of me, lemme show that son of a bitch a piece of my mind—“

Gaz steps in front of your line of sight, holding his hands up as if he’s calming a wild animal. “Heyy, let’s just calm down, yeah? Their words aren’t worth anything, sweetheart.” You look at him desperately, your tone still filled with frustration and rage. “They have no right to say what they fucking said, Gaz! How could you let that slide?? And in front of the other recru—“

Your angry yelling is cut off with a familiar large, warm hand wrapping around the back of your neck and squeezing. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, the anger still stirring but no longer boiling over—you stop struggling. “Take a deep breath, love.” Ghost rumbles from behind, causing the hair on the nape of your neck to stand up against his gloved palm.

You obey, taking a deep breath. “Good, now breathe out slowly.” Price says lowly, his voice closer than normal—he must’ve stepped closer. “That’s it, lass. Good, another?” Soap utters, making you nod. You take another deep breath and as you do, you feel a hand—Gaz’s, as the hand is coming from in front of you—touch your cheek and then your forehead.

“There we go.” Ghost hums, letting go of your neck. You open your eyes and the other two let go of you, Gaz putting his hand on your shoulder. “Better?” Gaz asks softly, making you nod in response. “Better.” You confirm, causing Soap to chuckle. “Nearly ripped my arm off, bonnie. Keep that strength in check, why dont’cha?”

[thirstykateyes]

Happy pride month 🌈 ✨

I haven’t drawn them in forever, and this is the first thing I do lmaoo asdfgh I’ve forgotten how to draw them too pftt

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Your Touch

Ghost x Reader

Ghost likes getting his back rubbed at night.

SFW, Extreme Fluff, Back Rubs, Cuddles, Pre-established Relationship, Hurt and Comfort, Touch-Starved!Ghost, Ghost is soft and vulnerable in this, Drabble, Scarcely Proofread

How about some fluff amidst all the smut I've been working on. 💞

Masterlist

"I don't quite know how to ask this, but..."

Simon's eyes dipped down quickly from yours, back towards the ceiling, a sudden rush of shyness and vulnerability running through this large, deadly man like a tidal wave. Once a suitable amount of seconds had passed, he turned his body to face you, the entire bed shifting against his form and tugging at the covers.

"...Could you rub me?"

Your lips curve into a crooked and playful smile as you turn on the bed to face him, your hands resting comfortably sandwiched between your head and your pillow.

"Rub you?" You say, fingers playfully beginning to sift through the covers towards his lower half. "Your wish is my command, Si'."

Your hands have just reached the waistband of his sweatpants when you suddenly feel a strong grip gently take hold over your wrist.

You hesitate at first, immediately fearful that you've suddenly overstepped a boundary or done something wrong; since beginning your relationship with Simon, you've done the most to be respectful of his pace. If he wished you to stop then you would, no questions asked. But you catch his eyes -- dark brown orbs half-lidded and wavering. You knew this had been something else.

He could have you continue; go on with feeling your skin slide against his before you've found the better parts of him you'd been yearning for. Have your small fingers dance and tug at him until you've pulled the night-time exhaustion he'd been looking for out of him. He could have that happen and have no complaints at all. He knows he always could.

And yet he holds your hand back, keeping your touch as far away as his brooding gaze had suddenly become.

"Not that," he says. "Not tonight at least, love. I meant rub me like..."

Like the first night you ever rubbed him. A night spent longer than most together in bed wrapped in one another's arms. Your breathing was a soft tune his ears could follow along to as he rested, your arms better than any blanket he could have.

As he laid on top of you, an innocent gesture on his part, your hand slipped beneath his shirt. Before long he had felt your fingers softly glide over the most neglected parts of his back, tracing small lines and circles.

Touch never came gentle to Simon; it has always been a sick and harmful thing. To feel a touch now so sweet and with care, without even having to ask, the man had felt unworthy by nature. And mostly he had felt sorrow, in many degrees beyond its own self. 

If this is what a loving touch had truly felt like -- like safety and peace -- it turned his stomach at times to be aware that he never felt such a thing in his life until now. Not from anyone beyond his mother. A short-lived time that left as quickly as it remained. But nothing had been this. He knew that the moment he felt you.

He remembers not wanting that night to ever end. And he remembers how fast it had put him to sleep as well. Since that day he's silently enjoyed your hands running against him innocently, never quite finding the strength to ask you outright to do it more often until now. 

What had made tonight different, he couldn't say. But even now, with your hands in his, patiently listening to him, he just wanted you to touch him more. Extend your body out to him and remind him of his own humanity.

"I don't know how to describe it..." Simon says, though he'd partly been lying.  He could describe in full detail what he wanted if it didn't make him feel so frail doing so.

But you smile, seeing the bashful glint in his brown eyes and understanding the man's hesitancy to be more upfront. "I understand."

You slip your hand from him and gently curve it over his body beneath the covers, scooting your way over until your short arms finally manage to reach his back. 

Your fingers gently comb over his skin, grazing him faintly with your nails, as you've begun to let your hand trails up his spine from the lower half of his back all the way up to the base of his neck. You let your finger pass each link of his spine beneath his skin, feeling the goosebumps you had risen over his entire body. 

Simon lets out a gruff groan and sinks into your arms, letting his head begin to nuzzle into your chest, and giving you a better angle to rub him. "You're too good to me love," he says. 

His continued little adjustments only make you laugh. "It's the least I can do for you, Simon."

A/N: I'm participating in Kinktober somewhat, but I might mix in more fluff and angst pieces as well. Just to throw in some variety ^^

[kivino]

currently have an idea for a könig x reader fic in a zombie apocalypse setting (my favorite), where he stumbles into your survivor group on accident and instantly becomes obsessed.

following your group, tracking your every movement, always right behind them, convincing himself that he's there to keep an eye out for you, because your current group are useless, good for nothing cowards that won't be able to protect you.

eventually, you start to notice things, like an extra pack of ramen in your bag, that definitely was not there before; hear noises that you were not supposed to hear, like that quiet rustle near your tent when you're half-asleep; or find things that you were not supposed to find, much like a whole pile of zombie bodies laying just outside your campsite, that no one from your group remembers killing. you're constantly tense and on your feet, waiting for something to jump out at you from every bush, observing things tirelessly to find the cause of these strange occurrences.

his work. könig is always going to be there to protect you, even if it costs him his life. holding his breath when looking at your innocent, sleeping figure, huddled up inside your tent, all alone, with no one to warm you up. tragedy, really. it would be such a shame if you had someone like him, strength and raw power barely contained within his body, to capture you into his strong embrace, as he presses up against you, so helpless and unaware of who's been protecting you and obsession over you all this time.

soon. soon he's going to have you all to himself.

yeah, so do we fuck with that?

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 03

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mention of nudity, mention of food, simons a flirt

prev part masterlist next part

a/n: haven’t proofread this yet, sorry for any grammatical errors

It’s a loud banging that wakes you, echoing through the walls of the small cottage, shifting frames on the wall as it continues.

In a sleepy daze you remember how Simon had mentioned he was going to fix the shower, something about mould and needing to redo the tile, what you didn’t recall was him saying he’d start work promptly at 7am, effectively disrupting your peaceful slumber.

You trudge your way out of the bedroom, wrapping the blanket around your form for some warmth as you stand in the doorway to the bathroom, heavy eyes watching him.

It takes him no time at all to acknowledge your presence, probably due to whatever training he’d acquired over the years, he could notice a mosquito shift from 10 feet away, such keen eyes.

He turns to you, his dark clothes sprinkled with powdered remnants of tile, “Did I wake you?”

You smile weakly, “You know there’s no rush, can always start these things, I dunno, in the afternoon”

“Woke up early, wanted to get a head start”

“Head start, sure, yeah” You dig your palms into your eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them, he drops his tools, moving closer to you and gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists, tugging them from your face.

“How’d you sleep love?”

“You mean before you shook my entire house at the crack of dawn? Very well, you’re quite comfortable”

“Am I?”

You smile, shifting your arms to wrap around him, letting the blanket draped on you fall to the floor, he snakes a hand behind your head, tugging it against his chest as he lifts his mask slightly, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

“How long is this gonna take?”

“Shouldn’t be more than two days”

“You understand this is my only washroom”

“I know”

“And I use it”

“Mhm”

“Please don’t destroy it”

“Wouldn’t dream of it”

You peak your head around him, getting a full glance at the room, it’s a complete mess, tools and dust everywhere, fallen tiles scattering the floor.

“Oh my god”

He pulls back, following your line of sight, “It’s not that bad”

“Not that bad, Simon, be serious”

“You still have the bathtub”

You huff, your forehead falling into his chest, “Just, promise me you know what you’re doing”

He scrunches his face under his mask, “I know what I’m doing” Running his hands up your arms, lying.

“Okay, I’m trusting you”

“Go get some tea love, I’ll take a break soon”

You lift your head from him, gazing up at his masked face before turning around, picking up your fallen blanket and making your way to the kitchen, jolting at the sudden clanging from a wall away and silently praying he wouldn’t destroy your entire washroom.

It’s takes him a few hours before the banging stops, your hearing feeling like it was permanently damaged from the consistent noise as Simon emerges, completely covered in dust.

You bite back the smile that pulls on your lips as you watch him saunter in, reaching for a mug and pouring himself a cup of tea before dramatically huffing a breath while he sits down.

“Done yet?”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, “Done taking the old tile down”

“Seems like it took all your energy old man”

“Old man?”

You laugh lightly into your tea,

“Believe me love, I’ve got energy to spare” He smirks under his mask as you choke into your tea, drops of the liquid spurting from the mug as your cheeks flush.

You clear your throat, tilting your head lightly “Wanna use some of it to help me in the garden?”

“Give me five minutes”

You smile, standing from your chair and walking beside him, placing a hand to his shoulder and dragging it along the skin as you walk away.

It takes him more than 5 minutes to meet you, more interested in watching you move around the land whilst sipping his tea, the privacy granting him the opportunity to drink properly without the hindrance of his mask, he made a mental note to buy you proper tea considering the stuff you had tasted like wet dirt to him.

By the time he found you in the garden he had changed his clothes, opting for a more comfortable t-shirt and jeans, the man looked damn good, his arms flexing under the thin cloth that allowed you perfect sight of the ink on his arm.

“Must be hot with that mask on all the time”

“M’not gonna take it off” He groans, standing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, he leans in to your ear “Yet”

You bite you lower lip as the thoughts flash through your mind, really you didn’t mean the words in a teasing way, more of an observation but now all you could think about was what he looked like. You knew his eyes were dark and his lips were full and pink, that his jaw was muscular and stubbled, from the few angles he granted you, you could tell he had scars on his face, specifically one that spanned his chin going down and another that cut through his left eyebrow.

It was enough, the small glimpses of him, the mystery intriguing but now there was a desire to know him under the mask, how he looked alongside who he was.

“Okay” You break yourself from your thought,la, pulling his arms from you and turning around, “I need you to help me plant these”

“Yes ma’am”

You hand him a small shovel, kneeling in the dirt, “So dig a small hole here, and then just put the pods in and cover them”

“Seems simple enough”

“So you won’t mess up?”

“I didn’t say that”

You smile, “Just do your best, need these to eat”

You watch him struggle to choose spots to dig, clearly overthinking his moves as he twists his body, reaching across the beds.

You shake your head, patting down the dirt in front of you at you settle one of the plants, untangling the vines and sitting back, wiping your hand across your forehead.

“Just plant it Si”

He whips his head to you, his eyes glued to your face in a panicked manner, it makes you uneasy,

“You okay?”

You slowly reach a hand down to rest on top of his, watching his reaction,

“Yeah fine” He shakes his head, “No one’s called me that in a long time, took me by surprise”

“Oh, m’sorry it just slipped out”

“No, I like it, sounds nice coming from you”

“Oh” You turn your gaze down, how did he always manage to make you so nervous, his hand meets your jaw, moving your gaze up to him as he holds you, his other thumb moving to swipe across your forehead.

“Got somethin”

He shows his palm, a smear of dirt on it as you realize, using your own hand to wipe it, you glance down at your body, stains of grass and soil covering you as you laugh.

“You’re filthy”

“You’re no better” You joke, gesturing to the clumps of spilt soil on his lap,

“Could probably use a shower”

“You think you’re so funny”

“Sometimes yeah”

You huff, grabbing a small handful of soil and tossing it at him, he closes his eyes for a moment, “Seriously”

You can’t fight the laughter that erupts from you, the dirt sticking to his sweat covered skin as he looks at you.

You yelp as he pounced on you, throwing your body back into the dirt as he hovers over your frame, his fingers tickling at your sides as you writhe under him.

“Say you’re sorry”

“Will not” You manage through laughs

His fingers poke at your skin, smearing the dirt from his arms onto your clothes in the process,

“Please, can’t breath”

He leans back with a smile, watching your heavy breaths raise your chest as your arms fall to the ground.

“Apologize”

“I’m-“

You’re sentence is cut short as you hear a car pull up, it’s door slamming shut, Simon jumps from you in full fight mode, extending an arm back to keep you guarded as a man exits the vehicle.

You squint your eyes at him, pushing Simons arm down gently as you recognize the person.

“William?”

“Hey doll”

Simon looks between you and the man, a sudden fire burning under his skin at the pet name, he stands back slightly as you approach him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Who’s this?”

You glance at Simon, giving him a small smile before turning back, “A friend”

The term feels like a punch to his chest.

“Pleasure” William extends a hand to Simon who neglects to shake it, eyeing the smaller man’s frame before turning back to you.

“What do you want”

“Came to drop something off, or someone rather”

He walks toward the car, opening the back door quickly as you watch a furry mass sprint toward you, gasping as you kneel down to meet it.

He licks your face as you scrunch it, running your hands over his fur, laughing as he prances around you before he catches Simons scent.

Simon watches the animal intently, studying it’s moves, as it approaches him quickly, jumping to his chest, licking his arms.

“He missed you, and I’m moving”

You tilt your head to him, “Moving?”

“Going to Spain, my mums sick”

“Will I’m so sorry”

“S’alright, just figured Riley needed a better place to stay”

“Yeah of course, thank you”

“We’ll I’ll get out of your hair, seems your busy, it was nice meeting you Simon”

Ghost is at a loss for words, he simply nods toward the man, his gaze focused on Riley.

“Seems he likes you”

“Where’d you get this dog” His tone is serious

“We adopted him when Will and I were together, he’s a retired-“

“Spec ops dog”

“Yeah? How’d you know”

“This is my dog”

“Simon what are you talking about?”

“I work in the military, that’s my job”

“And Riley was yours?”

“For a few years yeah, last they told me he’d retired in the states”

“They didn’t let you keep him?”

“Not protocol, I’m not home much”

“Home” The word triggers something in your mind, he’s not home, this isn’t his house, you’d been so caught up in being around him you’d completely forgot that he has a life outside yours.

Simons eyes crinkle as he plays with the dog, rough housing with him as they roll in the dirt, “We should get inside, looks like rain”

“Be in, in a minute love”

You walk slowly toward the house, resting your back against the front door and shutting your eyes, why hadn’t you thought about him leaving, there were people relying on him, it’s not like he could stay forever.

Even with the anxiety in your chest, your heart swells at the sight of Simon playing with Riley, even in the short time you’d known him, you’d never seen him this comfortable, he was so happy.

You glance at your arms, caked in dirt and sweat, deciding you needed to wash off. Stumbling over the mess of the washroom to turn on the bath, closing your eyes as you sink into the warm water.

Losing track of time in the water you notice your skin had grown wrinkled, scrubbing off the last bits of dirt and stepping out, wrapping a towel around your body and carefully navigating around the room.

Apparently during your alone time, Simon and Riley had moved their fun into the house, moving around the rooms together as they settled in.

You open the door, bumping directly into Simons chest, your nerves jumping as you collide. In a panic your towel falls,

“Sorry I didn’t see you” He struggles to get the last words out, his eyes roaming your naked form as you quickly move to cover yourself,

“Oh my god!” You reach for your towel but Riley runs over, grabbing it with his teeth and running away, “Riley! No, not a toy!”

Your cheeks flush with heat as you glance up, Simons eyes glued to you, your own eyes blown wide as you scurry away, slamming your bedroom door shut.

“Hey, wait” He follows you, leaning against your door as you drop your head to your hands on the other side.

“Please, go away”

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad”

“You saw my whole body”

“Lucky me”

“Simon” You laugh,

“It was bound to happen at some point”

“Well these are awful circumstances”

He moves the door open slightly, his eyes on your face as you hide behind the wood, face flush, he smiles, reaching to lift his mask slightly as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss.

“You’re so beautiful”

You take a deep breath, smiling against his lips before shoving him back and closing the door. He sits down, back resting against the door as you shuffle around in your room, quickly throwing on clothes.

“I’m serious, the most perfect girl i’ve ever seen, honestly just can’t believe it took this long for you to get naked”

You open the door quickly, his body falling backwards onto the ground, wincing lightly as he laughs, his eyes opening to see you standing above him.

“You’re very cocky, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Actually yeah”

Shaking your head you step over him, making your way to the kitchen, Riley following closely behind you.

Simon appears in the door frame, watching you pull food from the fridge, tossing items into pots and onto the cutting board.

“You hungry?” Twisting your head over your shoulder,

“Starved”

He rests an arm above his head against the frame, watching you cook, his hand extended down to pet Riley, this was perfect, the life he never knew he wanted, he had you and his dog and goliath his own little family.

He gives you some space to work, settling on the couch while Riley rests at his feet, seemingly tired out from the day. He reaches for the small tray of electronics on the table, toying with his comms for a moment before piecing it together finally, clipping in the missing cord.

There’s a massive weight on his shoulders, he knows what he has to do, he has a team waiting on him, a family, less conventional yes, but a family none the less, the team were his brothers, he had to get in contact.

He grabs his comm, tucking it to his ear before moving into the bedroom, closing the door so you couldn’t hear.

“Bravo Delta, this is Ghost”

He waits a few minutes before repeating himself, double checking his channel, those few minutes make his heart sink lower, either no one was there and his team had forgotten him, or his comms really were destroyed, and he could stay with you.

“Ghost?”

“Captain, good to hear your voice”

“Christ Son, we thought you’d died”

“Not yet Sir, just a little misplaced”

“Send your coordinates, we’ll get you evac”

“Negative Sir, I’ve got hostiles in the city near”

“Can you get out? We need you on base”

“How much time can you give me?”

He hears Price take a deep breath, murmuring to someone else in the room, “Three days Simon, then I’m sending everyone I have to get you”

“Copy, see you in three days”

“Be careful”

The line goes dead, Simons worries surfacing, he had three days, he didn’t want to face the idea of leaving you let alone how you’d react when he told you, he’d finally gotten his family, he wouldn’t give it up this easy.

tag list: @pepsicolacoochie @coolbanana44 @konigsblog @lialacleaf @mli345 @gghoulzz @fuckface-6996

[blingblong55]

He likes the taste of what?-141

innocent!reader

R/N: my husband likes the taste of squirt

Gaz: excuse me??

Soap: *looks at Ghost*

R/N: and the funny thing is I didn't know they still made it *shows them the Squirt fizzy drink can*

Ghost: oh that one..yeah I like that one too

Price: I fucking hate you all, you ruined my lunch

R/N: I thought it had stopped being produced but I saw it the other day when I visited friends and I bought some for him

Gaz: you two are fucking weird

R/N: what, he said he liked it. He asked what squirt was and I told him to give it a try and he said that the squirt was delicious so I'm ordering some and I need to know who else here wants me to order some more squirts for them

Soap: *raises hand*

Gaz: not today you whore *lowers Soaps hand*

Price: I really should've taken that retirement deal

[miniwheat77]

🔞MINORS DNI🔞18+ CONTENT ONLY🔞

COD:

Captain Price

Ghost

Soap

Gaz

Alejandro

Rudy

Graves

König

Keegan

Multi Character

TLOU:

TLOU

[abc-ok]

bro chance hid life

[clancycatears]

BEFORE HE LEAVES CHAPTER FOUR

You pass your interview and prepare to start your college classes. Kyle has news to share with you, and you struggle with what he tells you.

chapter-specific warnings: humor, gentleman gaz, inaccuracies (military and college), a smidge of angst, anxiety, i hope the timeline so far makes sense.

Settling into the flat—your new life��with Kyle was easier than you thought.

But only for the first week.

It started with returning home to find a giant package on your doorstep. Your mattress. Thank you, Mémé.

It took only a few minutes to set it up in your open room. You had no bed frame, no box spring, and a mere blanket you’d brought to keep yourself warm on the flight to London.

“There’s no way that’d keep you warm!” Kyle had insisted, and with a twirl of his keys, he was out the door. You were left to finish unpacking alone.

Luckily, the bypass closet came with clothes hangers, so you could drape what you had onto a rod that extended throughout the length of the closet. When you took a good look at it afterwards, your heart sank to your stomach.

You really, really didn’t have a lot to your name. A few pairs of shirts and trousers, two cardigans, and a single zip-up hoodie. Okay, not only did you need to go to that interview, but you’d need to repeat outfits for a few days before you could hit up the local thrift store to get a tad more clothing.

Especially since winter was just in a few months.

Before you could sink deeper into thought, Kyle returned. The rattle of the door caught your attention and led you out of your bedroom. He elbowed through the front door with a giant clear bag of bedsheets in his hands.

You cross your arms, watching as he kicks the door shut with his foot, and discards his keys on the kitchen island. “What’s that?”

“Your duvet,” giggles Kyle, setting down the bag beside the sofa and rolling his shoulders. “That mattress was a full size, right? Hope so, ‘cause that’s what I got.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you murmur. It had to be the third time since you’ve known him that you’ve said that.

He shrugs, before picking up the bag and marching to your room. “Can’ have you getting much until y'start that job, yeah?”

You follow him in your room, your ears burning. “I could’ve lived without that for a few days.”

“S’okay. Wanna get you as comfy as possible before I gotta go,” he insists, opening up the package before draping your mattress cover on first. “You said that interview was on Sunday?”

“Yes. Can you drive me?” You lean on the threshold to your room.

“Oh!” Kyle perks up, just as he’d started to tuck in the fitted sheet. “That reminds me.”

You raise a brow as he stands up straight, digging into his back pocket. “Catch.” You flinch, cupping your hands out in front of you as he throws you a pair of keys.

“What’s this?” you ask dumbly, jingling the keys between your index and thumb.

“Spare keys for m’car,” he hums, returning to making your bed. “Ordered ‘em yesterday.”

You watch in disbelief as he folds sheet after sheet onto your mattress, keys squeezed under your palm as you let your thoughts wander once more.

Kyle was too trusting—too nice—for a man who was supposed to be a battle-ready Sergeant. Or maybe he could just read you like a book. Read that you were honest and helpless.

Then came Sunday.

Throwing on the most presentable clothes you have, Kyle wishes you a “good luck” from the kitchen as you shuffle out the door.

You don’t know how long you sat in the parking lot, foot tapping against the lower pads of the driver’s seat as you waited for your interview time. You just had to show up fifteen minutes early.

So you pass the time by observing the interior of Kyle’s car. It was neat, tidy. Even the dashboard looked shiny. There was an air freshener—the Little Trees brand—labeled as “Leather”. Didn’t exactly smell of leather, but it still smelled nice regardless.

The windshields were clean, like he’d just washed them. Every window was clear, not a smudge in sight. A few coins of change rested in the center console, along with a pack of gum shoved deeper inside.

Decent mileage on the car, at least for the Mustang. 80,000 miles so far. You feel a little crestfallen, because now that you're using it with him, the miles will rack up faster. You really needed to start saving up for your own beater so you didn't have to dip into your college fund.

The Mustang was a convertible, too. But you assume Kyle didn't use it often, because of how intact the vinyl was. Maybe a small rip or two here and there, but perfectly uncastrated overall. Maybe you could put it to good use when you have your turn with the car.

He took good care of his car, another observation to note.

When the interview with Holly came around, you could tell from her looks alone that she was friendly. Extremely nice, maybe even too nice. Looked to be in her early twenties, dressed professionally, and stacking papers in a café booth when you walked into the establishment.

She gave you a giddy grin, green eyes sparkling with excitement as you took your seat across from her.

The usual questions droned on.

“What are your strengths and weaknesses?” yada-yada-yada.

“Why did you choose us?” yada-yada-yada.

“When can you start?” Bam. Job secured.

Two years of working in a coffee shop in America piqued their interest. You were lucky to have been promoted into a shift manager just before your move, so that likely caught Holly’s attention.

No problem starting from the top again, you’ve done it once, you can do it again.

You left the café with a folded company apron, a short-sleeved shirt to wear under it, and some paperwork to fill out for direct deposits.

Walking through the door with your things, Kyle approaches you with a wide smile. “Ohhh, brilliant! Y'got it?”

“Yes,” you murmur, placing your keys in the dish you set up beside the air fryer. “I start on Wednesday for training.”

“Mm,” he hums, returning to the kitchen to wash a few stray dishes. “Y’get discounts?”

“Is that you asking for free coffee when I work?” You bring your uniform to the washing machine and dryer beside the front door, opening the washer up and shoving your apron inside.

“‘Course I am. Would you?” you can hear the smile on his lips.

You roll your eyes as you cross the kitchen towards your room. “I owe you, anyways. So sure. Pretty sure I could bring plenty home when training starts.”

He bends over to open the dishwasher, filling the racks with the last of the dishes before dropping a packet of detergent into its slot, and starting the cleaning process. “Y’owe me nothin’. Just wan’ some coffee once n’ a while.”

“I can do that.” You return to the washing machine with dirty laundry, adding it to what you’ve already stuffed inside.

Days dragged along, every one giving you a lingering, nervous ache. You were going to pick up where you left off in a new University, but in an entirely new country. New people, new places to see, new teachers and peers, in less than a week.

It was silly, you thought, to be this afraid. On edge. It’s only your third year, then you had just one more until you graduated with a bachelor’s degree.

Something about moving on from your norm, and out of your comfort zone, made you overthink over and over again. How should you act? Should you be yourself? Will the community be ruthless, or welcoming? It’d just have to come with time, the day you start your classes next Monday.

You and Kyle mingled, though not awkwardly in the slightest. He was sweet, gentlemanly, reliable—the perfect roommate, in your eyes.

Tuesday night, after you both cooked up a chicken and homemade macaroni dish together, was where you both got the most free time to actually talk to one another.

Bumping your knee softly under the table, you scrape up a spoonful of your macaroni, your eyes flicking up to find Kyle already looking at you. His cheeks bounced with every chew, his free hand tapping away at the polished wood, before he swallowed and opened his mouth to speak.

“So… about University starting…” he begins, voice low, solemn, like he was about to deliver the worst news of your life.

You gulp down your bite, straightening up in your seat slightly, only worsening the ache in your ass from a lack of cushioning. “What’s up?”

He rubs the back of his neck, pushing his fork into a slice of chicken to hold it in place. “So I'm leaving… gotta go away for a while. Next Tuesday.”

You pause, a spoonful of macaroni stopping midway. You place the utensil back on your plate, resting your elbows on the table to clasp your hands together. “How long?”

He’s quiet for a beat, and you can feel the table rattle as he bumps his knee in a faster tandem than your own. “Few months? Maybe five or fix.”

“Oh,” you utter, keeping your eyes on him, as he does the same with you.

You were aware he was leaving; he's reminded you at least twice. Though you never expected it to be so long. How would you manage without him? You still hardly knew what you were doing. You still found yourself forgetting your house keys or your purse on days where you needed to rush.

Kyle would be the one to blurt, "Oh, forgetting this?" while holding up your lost item. Not an ounce of teasing in his tone, just concern. Admittedly, you were going to miss that.

“But m’sure I c’n get breaks in-between,” he adds quickly, nudging his chicken with his fork. “Jus’ depends how it all goes.”

“You goin’ out of the country?” You scoop your neglected spoonful into your mouth and chew.

Kyle’s eyes cast to the side. “Yes, Herat. Afghanistan.”

You make a small, saddened noise of acknowledgment. You chew slowly, like focusing on the taste of your dinner would soothe the disappointment.

“Rent will pay automatically, don’ worry about that,” he assures, finally shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Pays righ’ f’rm m’bank,” he adds, voice muffled through his chewing.

You nod slowly. “Should I be worried?”

He swallows, perking his head up to you with his brows raised. “‘Course not. Unless there’s a box at th’ door.” His stance hardens as your eyes widen. “Y’don’ have to worry ‘bout that, though. M’good at what I do.”

Your lips twitch into a frown. “Then don’t say it like that.”

“I c’n text, call, when I have time. But thas’ hard t’come by.” His voice pitches, like he’s working to reassure you. “You c’n throw parties, make a mess of th’ place, whatever. As long as it’s still home when I come back.”

Your frown only deepens. “M’not an animal.”

“I know,” he replies hastily, shaking his head and pinching the line between his brows. “Sorry. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You release a deep sigh, shoulders sagging as you swipe another bit of food into your maw. “Okay, just… Don’t die on me, yeah?”

He chuckles lightly. “Made it this far, haven’ I?”

Despite his efforts, the worry pooling in your stomach is hard to ignore. It festers—growls—whispers its words of refutation into your ears like it wanted to sit there every single day Kyle was away.

You both finished dinner in silence—and this time, not as peacefully. Kyle looked calm. Of course he did; he's done this for years. Leaves for periods of time and leaves the flat to its own devices.

Though now you're here. You could keep the place tidy, take care of Dodger just fine, and have all of the alone time that you desire.

But you didn't want alone time. The last thing you wanted to be was alone. The last thing you wanted was to barely hear from him while he was away. The last thing you wanted was to juggle school, work, and taking care of the flat by yourself. You wanted him here to show you the ropes—to soothe your nerves with his kindness.

You went to bed that night with your pillow tucked to your chest, heart tight and head pounding with the stress of being the woman of the house. You had to be, though. This flat was his and yours now. You had just as much responsibility over it as him.

You had to get out of your comfort zone.

Think of it like the café. Starting from the top shouldn’t be so bad, especially if you already knew what you were doing.

Wednesday morning is abrupt, the blare of your alarm jolting you from your dreamless slumber. Shoving your bedsheets away from your lap, you throw your feet over the mattress and stand up groggily. With a stretch of your arms, you approach your closet, opening it to find your neatly hung apron.

You stand there for a moment, gaze lingering on the article. Today, you get to know more people—more than just your Mémé and Kyle. You need to make a living. You can't chicken out and leave Kyle to pay the rent by himself.

You need t’meet people.

Tugging your apron free, you get to work, undressing out of your sleepwear and throwing on your uniform. Dodger lies curled up by your pillow, his curious green eyes following your every movement as you pace throughout the bedroom, collecting your belongings and shoving them into a small purse.

Wallet, check. Keys, check. Gum, check. Still, you double-checked.

You leave your room to the soft hum of music coming from the kitchen. Of course, Kyle was awake. He was always awake at least an hour or two before you. Rubbed off from his profession, he'd said once.

You smooth your apron down as you cross the kitchen and head straight to the front door. You don't say a word, but you can feel Kyle's gaze eventually burn into the back of your neck as you're shoving your non-slip sneakers onto your feet.

"Hey, mornin'," he murmurs, and you reply with a quick "morning" before tying your shoes together.

You hear him audibly sigh, and the music turns down a beat. "Mind getting me an espresso?"

"Sure, just text me how you like it," you mumble, scooping up your keys from your purse. "See ya."

As you're wriggling the door open and sliding out, you hear a small "see you" before you promptly shut the door behind you.

← chapter three | chapter five →

taglist 🏷️ @santanatenofcups

© clancycatears 2025. do not copy, steal, translate, or feed my works to ai.

[mockerycrow]

I’ve been toying with the lovely idea that the 141 boys have their own Penelope Garcia (from Criminal Minds) who is just their little ray of light, just so cute 🥰

!!gn!reader!! — can be read as platonic or romantic

Whilst sitting at your desk of your many monitors, your radio began to pick up chatter which meant the team was trying to make contact. You immediately pick up your headphones and angle your microphone, hearing the last of Price’s sentence. “—ending you a file now.”

You hum into the microphone and scoot your chair towards one of your many keyboards. “Only caught the last part, Cap’. A file you said?” You ask, typing up a password before a chat log opens up. “Yes, we need you to look into the source code, lookin’ for anythin’ that makes sense, love.”

You quickly receive a file and run it through a scanner app you developed yourself as well as a decryption app in case it was protected with extra measures. “Mm, I love hide and go seek. Running it through now, sir.” You respond with an obvious grin in your voice. You hear Soap laugh through the radio. “Let us hear it when it’s done, aye?”

Your lips twitch from his voice, your eyes glued to a screen as you twiddle with a pen. “Anything for you, Suds.” Which earns you a belly laugh from the man and a groan from Price. Your screen pops up a couple of images as it popped through the encryption. “Mm, alright searching now….” A few more seconds before another window pops up. “Santa Fe,” You call out. “Only one that scans like an actual word.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You hear Ghost rumble, and you can’t resist the shit eating grin. “Do I get a reward?” You can’t resist making the joke, popping a candy into your mouth from a bowl on your desk. “When we get back, I’ll buy ya dinner.” Gaz offers, making you clutch your chest and playfully groan. “My dream man! Safe travels, yeah?”

[thirstykateyes]

this is so dumb, but sometimes you’ve gotta yell pftt

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Some Cuts and Bruises

Husband Ghost x Wife Reader

While things begin to steam up between you and Simon, you notice the fresh bruises on his face from work...

Mild NSFW 18+, Not Smut, but a little graphic still, Extreme Fluff, Husband!Ghost, Hurt and Comfort, Domestic, Suggestive Situations, Consensual Touching, Kissing, Cuddling, Mutual Love, Soft, Drabble, Scarcely Proofread

This was random. Please enjoy!

Masterlist

You sat on your couch, hardcover book in hand and table lamp at your side. That orangy, warm glow around your living room felt calming in this autumn evening; the perfect time for a warm sweater and some hot cocoa. The book itself hadn't grown interesting until a few chapters in, but now it's become a real page-turner, to say the least.

It's had your attention so wrapped on the old pages that you don't even notice the front door open and shut, nor do you hear the heavy footsteps make their way into the living room where you reside.

Nothing snaps your attention out of it, until you've suddenly felt a large, rough hand slowly curve beneath your arm and gently cup your breast.

You gasp at the initial touch, your book lowering and your body jolting somewhat, feeling the hand continue on until it's fully cupped over you, giving you gentle squeeze and kneading you like dough.

A second hand wraps around you, cupping your other breast and pressing your back against the cushions of the couch. It's there your head grazes the gear-clad body of your husband, Simon.

You cock your head back to look at the man properly, catching his skull mask in the dim lighting, along with the lust-stained glint in his deep brown eyes. From the looks of his gear and uniform, all worn down and covered in mysterious shades of dirt and dust, he's just gotten off work. A pleasant surprise as always.

"Mm, welcome home, Si'," you smile, your lashes fluttering at this brute of a man behind you. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that I'm home," he says.

Simon lets a hand slip beneath the collar of your shirt, coarse fingers running against the bare parts of your skin, and lightly tugging your bra away. Rather presumptuous of him, but not completely unexpected. It felt the longer you two were together, the harder it's been for him to keep his hands off you.

"Is that right?" you giggle, his touch making you shiver against him. You always felt you did a pretty decent job at hiding how responsive your body had been to his touch, yet something told you Simon knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. The same one you had on him. "Excited for some more preheated pizza tonight, are we?"

His fingers felt for your nipple, finding it with ease and letting his two fingers gently pinch at it, your breaths exiting you in tatters. As he plucks and plays with you slowly, savory the very sensation of your warm breast against his palms again, he leans down, growing more near you. His mask-clad lips press gently to the shell of your ear, whispering to you lightly, "More excited for my dessert."

"Having dessert first will only spoil the main coarse," you tease.

"A little taste won't ruin my appetite," he says.

You playfully roll your eyes, before a soft moan leaves your lips, his hands becoming more greedy with their movements. You knew he'd been hungering for you all day by the way he touched you, letting his body lean over the couch behind you, keeping you pressed back. A gruff sigh leaves him as your head brushes into him, just faintly pressing against the growing indent in his pants.

"Well take your shit off and get over here already," you order him. "My book was just getting to the best part."

"Yes ma'am."

Simon wastes no time in shedding off his gear, beginning with his gloves, then his boots, soon followed by his jacket and belt. As his hands reached for his balaclava, however, he stops suddenly, almost catching himself from doing so.

Had you not been busy bookmarking where you left off in your book, you may have noticed his sudden hesitancy to unmask himself. Though the reasons for them could not be held from you for much longer.

Simon makes his way around the couch, and like a puzzle piece having found its place, he's fallen into your arms, crushing you into the couch with all of his weight. It takes the air from you and springs a dramatic "oomph" from your lips, the man having found some twisted entertainment in treating you like a teddy bear at times. It hadn't helped you always made squeaky noises like one whenever he squeezed you with his arms during a hug or a cuddle. And while he's sure you found it annoying at times, he loved the way it made him feel to have you so near.

Your hands find the end of his mask and you begin to peel it up, excited to see your husband's face again. That's when you notice the bruises.

Your heart sinks at the sight, hands growing cold as you looked to him with concern. Not to leave yourself in suspense, you remove his mask completely, seeing his short, blond hair come out in a light fluff, his brown eyes staring back at you with a held breath.

You see all the new, small bruises and cuts on his face, some bandaged and others already scabbed over, set to become new scars alongside his old ones.

Your lip quivers, a small gasp leaving you at the sight. "Simon..." you say. "...What happened? You're hurt..."

"Oh it's nothin', love," he speaks nonchalantly. "Just some rough housing on the job."

He's cavalier about it, Simon often was when these things happened. He hadn't wanted you to worry about him, no more than you already do. He wanted to be your rock, your safe haven, your one guaranteed thing in this world. And he wanted you to sleep easy at night, not lying up worrying about him. If that meant shrugging off some scratches then so be it. Though it isn't something you can help.

It was a long time before Simon opened up to you about his past. You hadn't wanted to push him, and it wasn't until about two years in where he found a moment that felt right to actually bring it up. To say his life wasn't easy would be a understatement, and you couldn't help but worry because of it.

But you worried less so for his safety these days, and rather his own peace and happiness. You knew the man would sacrifice himself -- body and soul -- for the Task Force, despite whatever fronts he led on with the others.

"Are you OK?"

It's the only thing you can think to ask once you've fully taken in his battered appearance. The only thing that really mattered.

Simon smiles softly, your little ways of showing you cared for him making him fall in love with you all over again. "I am," he says. "You should see the other guy."

"Is he in the hospital?"

"More like six feet under."

Your eyes grow wide, and it makes the man bellow out into a deep, rumbly, laughter. "I'm only joking, love," he smiles.

"Oh, are you?" you tease.

"Today at least."

"Oh good," you smirk. And then, in a small moment of seriousness, you let your thumb graze his chin, feeling his rough stubble against your skin. "Just please, please try and be safe, Si'."

Simon leans in and lets his lips press lightly against yours, tasting you with the first kiss of many he planned to give you tonight. He pulls back lightly, bringing his hand to the bottom of your chin and using his finger to prop your head up, bringing your eyes to his.

"Very well," he says. "Now, where were we?"

"Aw yes," you giggle. "Dessert."

Simon leans back down to kiss you, your tongue tasting the hints of iron and blood which still resided on his tongue, your fingers grazing over the rigid grooves of his skin.

He kisses you like a man who's found a certainty to things again, his hands exploring your body, bringing you pleasure and seering the very essence of you into his skin.

You loved this man, and all his shapings and imperfections. As he continued to have his way with you on the couch of your living room, you thought of his wounds once more, further relaxing in his touch. If he said he was OK, then you wanted to believe him.

(^ ^)

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

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

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 02

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining

prev part masterlist next part

It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,

"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"

What you did all day,

"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"

It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.

"I thought you were good at cooking"

"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.

He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"

"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"

"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,

He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"

"Let you what"

"Cook, I'll make dinner"

"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"

"They don't feed you at work?"

"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"

"Did your mum cook?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"

"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"

He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,

"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"

He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,

"So what are you making?"

"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"

"French toast?"

"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"

You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,

"Well, it smells great"

The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,

"You can't be serious"

"What'd I do?"

"That's like a cup of syrup"

"So?"

"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"

"What if they already have"

You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"

"You don't have to turn away you know"

You make a small huh? in response,

"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"

"I just assumed"

"I know, but you don't have to turn away"

"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”

“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”

“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.

He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.

You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,

“Sorry”

“Doesn’t hurt”

You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.

“That should do”

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.

"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"

"You trying to kick me out?"

"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"

"There isn't"

You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"

"Right"

There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.

"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.

He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.

You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,

"You scared me"

"You were having a nightmare"

"Yeah, they happen sometimes"

It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,

He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,

"Simon"

He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.

"Will you stay, it's just"

He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"

"Please"

"Of course"

You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.

You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.

You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.

"Do you have something in your pocket?"

He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,

"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.

"It's fine"

He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,

"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"

"Thank you"

You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.

You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.

You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Top left cabinet”

You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,

“Thanks”

He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yep, just making tea”

“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”

He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.

His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,

“Are you any good at fixing things?”

“Depends, what needs fixing”

“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”

“I could give them a look”

You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.

The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.

“I think you’re his new favourite”

Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.

“Strange”

“He’s not strange”

“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”

“Well get used to it”

He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.

“The shutters”

You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”

“I’ll get right on it then”

It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.

I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.

“Beer”

It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.

“Cheers, love one”

Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.

“Must be hot with the mask”

“Get used to it”

You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.

“How’s it looking”

“Great”

“So you’re almost done”

“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,

“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”

“Yeah, nearly there”

“Great, I’ll be inside”

The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.

“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”

“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”

He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,

“You alright?” You call

“Yeah, just sore”

“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”

You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.

“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”

He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,

“Sure, easier”

He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.

“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”

“Great”

“Might leave a scar”

“Adds to the collection”

You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.

“I’m fine”

“I know you are”

“It only hurts a little, when it happens”

“And someone did this to you”

“A few people”

“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,

“Nothing you need to worry about”

You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,

“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,

“Simon, would you- nevermind”

“What do you need?”

“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”

“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.

“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”

He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.

He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.

He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,

“Good morning kitty”

He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.

He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.

“Mornin”

You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,

“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.

“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”

His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”

“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”

“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”

You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.

“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.

“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,

“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”

“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”

“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”

“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”

He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.

[tacticaldiary]

omg saw your post and yes i’d love to see jealous fic with any of the cod men, especially simon >>>>>

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Jealousy

He's not a man who acts impulsively, but this might be the one time he throws caution to the wing and takes the one thing he wants.

A/N: Ghost won by a massive majority so here he is! (I read all of your asks, just chose this one to link the fic to!)

Masterlist

He was an enigma.

Quick to act and as observant as a cat on the field, Ghost picked up the smallest of details and clicked them all together in his head in milliseconds. Acting quickly and efficiently could be the distinction between life and death, after all.

So why the hell wasn't he as observant now?

She had spent months and months dropping hints. Lingering touches, secret smiles. At times, she might as well have told him up front how she fancied him with how she acted, but never once had Ghost reciprocated properly.

"Ya joining us, aren't ya?" Soap grins at her as they walk out of their respective locker rooms together. "Won't be the same without someone to go easy on the eyes." He snickers when she scoffs, nudging him with an elbow.

"I'll be there." She's unable to hold back a smile when he cheers and slings an arm around her shoulders.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Ghost on the far side of the hallway. He must not have gotten a chance to shed his gear yet. He's talking to Price, both of them engaged in what looks like a serious conversation, but every so often his eyes flitter over to her and Soap...more intense than usual?

It strikes her as odd, the heat behind his glances and a sneaking suspicion creeps into her mind. Grinning to herself, she wraps an arm around Soap's waist and tugs him closer while they walk, listening to him talk about the bar everyone plans to hit tonight.

His spine straightens and she swears she sees his arms tense, folded across his chest.

But he says nothing, Simply turns back to Price and doesn't spare her another glace when they walk by.

At this point, she just wants him to either confirm or reject her so she can get out of this eternal limbo of dancing back and forth. She knows he feels the same way to some degree, that much is clear to her. The way he sits next to her for hours when she gets injured on call and has to recover in the medbay, the rest of the 141 gone, late into the night.

She sees it in the way he has no problem guiding her by a warm hand on the small of her back, the way his eyes are the first to flicker to her mouth whenever she talks during a debriefing.

The interest it there, and it certainly isn't platonic. Not with the intensity of the tension between them.

Yet he never acts.

Never accepts her advances, but never pushes her away or rejects her either.

It was driving her crazy.

Fine. If he wanted to keep playing this strange game, he could keep doing so. It doesn't mean that she has to go along with it. She deserved to have some fun after their particularly gruelling mission too, right?

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The club is a new one, not yet broken in by the tradition of the team winding down after a deployment. Old school wooden bars and stool mixed with a modern twist of sleek decor, she rather likes it.

Strapped in a dress that had been in her closet for months unused, she makes herself forget about her back and forth with Ghost and just...enjoy herself.

Soap had been on her the second she entered, waving her over, Gaz pushing a drink into her hand with a cheeky smile. Price nurses a glass of whiskey by the bar. The only one she doesn't see is Ghost.

Sitting over at the bar listening to the boys go back and forth over what type of alcohol they preferred, she's mulling over whether to head to the floor. Deciding against it she waves the bartender over and asks for a refill.

"Put that on my tab." A man slides into the stool next to her, offering her a smile.

"Are you sure?" She asks, straightening up. The first thing she notices is that he's attractive. A strong jaw, lean and rich brown skin.

"Positive." He chuckles. "It'd be my honour to buy a drink for someone as gorgeous as you." His eyes rake over her once, before he drags them back to her eyes confidently.

The attention makes heat creep up her ears, not because it was particularly new, she's not a stranger to lingering glances, but because it's so blatant. Something tells her this man is not used to getting told no.

Not that she has any intention to do so.

She catches Price's eye, a silent raise of an eyebrow asking if she needed any help. Tired of mulling over someone who refused to reciprocate, she gives her Captain a subtle shake of the head and turns her body towards the man.

It makes her heart warm, how much Price cares about her and the others outside of them being his subordinates. There has to be a certain level of trust between people personally for them to completely trust each other on the field, and trust was something integral to all of them.

He introduces himself as Noah and strikes up a conversation that genuinely keeps her engaged. She's surprised to find out he watches her favourite show, and they share quite a few common interests.

While he's talking about what he does for a living, she feels a shiver run up her spine, eyes at the back of her head.

Looking around the room, it's not difficult to pinpoint the perpetrator.

Ghost looks...well, he look good, he always does, but there's a tightness to his posture like she saw back in that hallway with Soap. His jaw is ticked as he glares at Noah.

His eyes soften the barest bit when they meet hers.

No. No, she wasn't doing this right now. She was having fun with Noah right now, not thinking about Simon striding over towards her, pulling her up and out of the stool. That would not happen, she knows it. He wouldn't act on whatever was getting him riled up.

So she keeps talking to Noah, and yes, maybe she is being a little more animated than before. Perhaps she is giving him wider, flirtier smiles and leaning into him when he talks. Maybe her laughs are louder and her maybe she does place a hand on his arm once or twice but it's all because she would rather throw herself into this conversation than think about the other man staring holes into the back of her head.

At one point, Noah leans in close to her ear. "I can tell I have you impressed. What do you say I show you what other aspects of my shining...personality in a more private place?" He winks.

Simon wouldn't have been this forward, she thinks. He would've...what? Would he have taken his time with her? Bought her more than a single drink? He wasn't one for small talk so maybe he'd skip it altogether and...why on Earth was she thinking about that? Frustration bubbles up inside her as she berates herself for getting lost in her head again. None of that would happen because-...well, he wasn't even there anymore, wasn't leaning near the bar where he'd been staring at her.

See? He didn't care enough to act otherwise. His absence proves it.

So with the desperate need to distract herself, she smiles at Noah. "You're just full of good ideas, aren't you?" She says, standing to smooth the wrinkles in her dress. Noah joins her, a hand to the small of her back, leading her away from the bar (she's not thinking about how Simon's hands are bigger, warmer, and rougher-).

"She's busy." If the familiar gruff voice didn't stop her in her track, the hand circling her wrist definitely did.

"Excuse me?" Noah retorts, eyes narrowing. He has to look up to meet Simon's eyes, looking between him and the hand on her wrist. "And who are you?" He snips, and she's a little surprised at the sudden nasty tone of voice. So much so, she frowns at him and steps out of his hold, coincidentally closer to Simon.

"None of your business." Simon's anger is subtle, but there, like the growl of a dog before he bites, and she'd be lying if it didn't make her shiver.

"I do think it's my business. We were just leaving." Noah goes to grab her, but Simon tugs her into his side, putting himself between them.

"I'm going to tell you to get lost once. The consequences of whether you choose to listen or not are gonna be on you, mate." His accent is thicker when he's talking as low as he is, and Noah must have the sense to heed the threat lacing his words because he grits his jaw and walks out the doors alone, muttering curses under his breath as he leaves.

She's...well, she's stunned at the display of...whatever that was. His hand hasn't left her wrist. In fact, he doesn't speak to her, just pulls her along to a more secluded part of the bar, the hallway that leads to the restrooms. Music fades into the background and chatter recedes until it's just the two of them.

"What is it, Simon?" She sighs, yanking her hand free. "What was that about?"

"You were just gonna leave with him?" He asks incredulously. "Without knowing where the hell he was taking you or giving someone else a location to find you? Are you daft?" She bristles at the chiding.

"Are you fucking with me?" She blinks up with him. "I'm a grown ass woman, Simon. I can make my own calls."

"Doesn't mean they're good ones."

"What is your problem?!" She exclaims, and the months of dwelling frustration finally come pouring out. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not going to pretend that I'm not...that I don't like you because I've made it pretty damn clear that I do, and I think you know that too. You do nothing but watch, and I'm sick of it." She shoves his chest, huffing when he doesn't budge. Keeping her hands where they are, she balls them into fists. "How fucking dare you try and act all possessive now when you barely have the balls to choose between rejecting me and getting closer! How dare you try and get in the way when you-"

"Bloody hell, woman." He cuts in with a low growl, and he moves so suddenly she doesn't register him tugging his mask up to his nose and crashing his lips over hers. A strong arm circles her waist, walks her backwards until he back hits the walls and closes the gap between their bodies.

God, she's so glad she didn't go home with Noah.

It's intoxicating.

He's intoxicating.

He doesn't stop until she's breathless, until he's all consuming in her thoughts. When he pulls back, barely a centimetre, she can hear him whisper over the humming in her ears.

"That close enough for you, love?" He says lowly, his breath ghosting over her lips. "Think I got my stance on you across?"

She swallows, steadying her breathing, feeling herself flush. He's all muscle and power against her body, better than what she thought he'd feel like.

"I don't know." She hums. "You might have to show me again so I can be sure."

His small huff of amusement makes her smile giddily before he kisses her again, and all feel right in the world., the tightness in her chest settling down.

Who knew jealousy could lead to such a sweet end to the night?

"Steamin' Jesus!" A Scottish drawl breaks them apart, she clutches onto Simon like she's just been caught doing something bad. Soap whoops out a laugh and eyes the both of them victoriously at the both of them before striding back out of the hallway, calling out; "Gaz, ya' owe me ten bucks!"

"Fucking hell." She giggles when Simon's head drops to her shoulder.

Requests Are Open!

(20/06/2023)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hoping I haven’t missed the requests closing 🙏if so pls ignore!

I’m humbly asking for a fluffy Gaz x reader and reader meeting price bc I’ll die on the hill of Price and Gaz having a father/son relationship. And Gaz being so nervous on what price thinks? Brownie points if Price teases him! I love Gaz sm and I wanna smooch him on the forehead!!

Shaky Fingers

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

A/N: Switched some stuff around so it's more of the 141 as a whole, but it's still pretty much the same, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You think Gaz was about ready to call the whole night off.

Laughing, you shake your head and walk over to Kyle after flattening out your dress with fast hands. The apartment bedroom was ripe with the scent of cologne and perfume; the floor lamp was on and you had just finished placing a luxurious necklace over your neck. The twinkling stone blinks like a white eye in the low light. 

“Dear,” you chuckle deeply to your boyfriend of three years as his head is in his hands. Gaz sits on the bed, dejected. “It’s alright, I can pay for supper—it’s really not that big of a deal.” 

“Bloody thing,” He groans, his tux wrinkled from the frantic patting he’d done to his pockets a few minutes prior. “I swear, Love, it was right in my pocket near noon!” 

“Kyle,” stopping in front of him, you grab at his wrists, peeling his hands away from his handsome face. Grumpy eyes lock on yours but soften as you send an easy, reassuring, smile his way; the lines on his forehead fall from a harsh line to a squiggly suggestion on the page that is his face. He sighs. “It’s okay.” 

Chuffing at the absurdity, your tone is a bit teasing.

“You’re acting like I don’t have a job, too,” Kyle grumbles at this, and his oval face shifts in a play of exaggerated exasperation.

“I’m not making you pay for our anniversary dinner, I’d never be able to sleep at night.” He says, and he captures your hands in his own, holding them together and bringing them to his lips for a delicate kiss. You tilt your head and watch, face heating. 

“So you can run into active warzones and get covered in all sorts of fluids but you can’t handle letting your girlfriend pay for food? Kyle, you sound ridiculous.” Leaning forward, you lay a smooch on his forehead and feel his body jerk out chuckles.

“Never said I didn’t like the idea,” Brown eyes lower in a small jab. A joke making his lips pull up in a smirk. “It’s called being a gentleman, Love.”

“A gentleman that loses his wallet, apparently. Not very soldier-like, Sergeant Garrick.” Your eyelids crinkle as you grin, firing back just as fast as Gaz blinks, brought back to the dilemma that was pushing back your departure for the restaurant down in the city. A pointedly expensive restaurant.

“It was right on me! I swear, this has never happened before.”

You shrug, straightening up to full height and tugging at Kyle’s dress shirt; prompting him to stand up so you can straighten his tie. He does so without complaint, and your fingers spread over fine silk.

“I’m gutted. We can’t go until I find it. I’m not even that worried about my money—it’s my damn ID that’s draggin’ me by the arse.” You glance up at him, humming, before pulling at the neck of his shirt and setting the tie comfortably under. Kyle’s grip goes to rest on your waist and you slightly melt into his chest more.

“Base ID?” Your voice mutters out in question.

“Yeah, that’s the bloody one. Price’ll kill me if he finds I’ve lost it. Fuckin’ hell.” Sighing deeply, you sag into him, your chin going to rest on his collarbone so you can look up at him with a tiny glimmer of understanding. 

Gaz’s jaw was tight with worry, brows drawn in and those two tiny scars on his left cheek pulled stiff. His stubble brushed your nose as he angled his head down to stare into your eyes when your grip traveled to wrap around his waist loosely. He huffs and kisses your nose bridge. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m ruining the night with all this talk. We should be out already, shouldn’t we?” You’re already frowning at him, pinching his side as he grunts in surprise and stifles a boyish laugh.

“Quit that,” you say, “this is just as important. Do you remember where you last put it?” 

You’d never been to Kyle’s work before—that is, the military base where he’s stationed at. He doesn’t really have a workplace per se, just a temporary office and barracks room if he needed it. The Sergeant is off across the world more often than not. 

“I haven’t got a clue,” Kyle’s voice goes low but his chest rises with gratification at the genuine care you show to him over something as silly as this. Heat rises to his cheeks when your fingers run back and forth over his back—his own hands tighten around you, keeping you close. “I knew I had it at lunch. I went out and got you those flowers from that floral shop that you like—I had to use my ID to get back on Base.”

Those very flowers were sitting in a vase on your vanity, bright and vibrant. You’d swooned when Kyle had gotten back to the apartment with them. 

“Alright,” your eyes stare off into your boyfriend’s brown orbs, focussing deeply. Gaz sees your nose scrunch in thought and he smiles widely, chuckling and lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth to unseen music. “Lunch,” you mutter, barely noticing.

“Don’t strain yourself, now,” Kyle teases.

“Hush,” Scolding, you fake a scowl and feel him rest his forehead on yours. His hair tickles your flesh and you giggle. Heart pounding, Gaz listens to you speak as if caught in a trap of his own making, gaze exceptionally soft and breathing secondary to the way your mouth curls into a smile; how your beauty ensnares him in your otherworldly glow. “Anything else, Dear?”

“Hm,” Blinking out of his love-struck gaze, Kyle thinks deeply—straining his mind. A memory sparks and a flame burns in his gut. His expression flips as the air sparks. “MacTavish…oh, that fucker’s dead.” 

You make a noise of confusion as Gaz starts rambling, pulling back from you and beelining for the keys on the nightside table. Face open and soft with shock, you stutter a small laugh when the man darts back and grabs you by the shoulders; angling you to the bedroom door and to the foyer. 

“Gaz?” You chuckle endearingly at his annoyed face, his lips pulled tight, and his eyes narrow on nothing as he releases you. He bends down and snatches your heels, turning and bending a knee with a groan.

“Bastard. I knew he would get to me eventually, Love, it was only a matter of time.” 

“‘Get to you?’” Amusement makes you place a hand over your lips before a loud snort can escape your lungs. “Kyle, what are you on about?” 

His nimble fingers loop the buckle of the heels over your ankle, pulling to a comfortable tightness as he cradles your calf. Brown eyes glance up at you with deep seriousness.

“Soap…I told you about him, yeah?” you nod and carefully place your foot back down; letting Gaz pick up the other and slip your foot into the expensive material. The smile never leaves your face as the calloused hands scrape your flesh. Kyle huffs out a scoff. “He’s been pulling all of our legs for weeks—got to some of the recruits first but it bled over to One-Four-One. Didn’t think he’d fuck with me so soon; would have prepared otherwise.”

“The Scottish one?” You stand fully on your two feet and grab your coat from the hook and slip it over your shoulders, glancing at Gaz as he puts on his own shoes. You go over and kiss the top of his head in thanks for the assistance with your own. “So you were pranked?”

“When he bumped into me,” your boyfriend explains, and you’re being carefully corralled out the door with your arm resting in the crook of his elbow; you grip the nice fabric of his suit and listen with rapt attention and a toothy smile. “I thought he’d just wanted to hurry on to the pub—I didn’t think much of his grab at my waist as anything more than to keep him steady. Mate stole my fucking wallet.”

He says it so aghast that you giggle and see him blink, expression turning cheeky.

“What?” Gaz looks over at you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Look at that beautiful smile—you think this is funny, Love? You are just wicked, you are.” 

“I think it’s hilarious,” your body leans into his heavily; pulling his body heat into yours and making you all toasty as you gaze at him with love. “Are we going on a mission, Sergeant?” 

Gaz stares with a vast haze of affection and pleasure, “Damn right we are.” An arm wraps around your waist and squeezes your flesh—your face goes warm. “We’re trackin’ down a shit-faced Scot on our anniversary. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. You have my six?” 

“Well,” you sigh with enjoyment, not at all angry or annoyed at the strained dinner reservation. Brown eyes crinkle at you. “It’ll be good to finally meet who you work with.” Your lips widen, “I’d be honored.”

“Christ, let’s just hope he has it on him.”

—

Gaz huffs as he pushes open the front door to the pub, and you take in the scent of tobacco and alcohol. With a muttered thanks to your boyfriend as he holds open the barrier for you, you slip inside and the smell only increases to a violent level. You blink around the old-style wood and decor, surprised with how much you enjoy the drunken cheeks and dim light atmosphere. Like a wave that goes in and out, your ears ring from music playing out a jukebox in the far corner. 

“This way, then,” Kyle sighs loudly, and you see his eyes have already locked into three men at the bar top. A loud roar of laughter accompanies the both of you as you head over to who you assumed were his coworkers. 

You glance down at your expensive attire and then at Gaz’s and stifle a loud laugh at the stares you’re getting. The two of you are comically overdressed. 

“MacTavish!” Your boyfriend calls eyes exasperated if not a bit annoyed. When all of the individuals at the bar turn to look at the two of you. “Want to explain why my wallet’s not in my fucking pant pocket right now?” 

You figure out who he’s talking to when the man with a strong face and a mohawk bursts out into chest-jerking laughter after a second of pure silence. His pale hands slap the table where his multiple empty shot glasses rattle against one another. 

“Oh, hell,” yep, Scottish. Gaz glowers next to you with a stiff frown until you elbow his side. He glances down and rolls his eyes as you chuckle—his arm going over your shoulders. 

“Fuckin’ not again—What’s he done?” The gravel in the bearded man’s tone took you aback for a moment, such a low and grating voice laced with a firm authority. A black beanie was on top of his brown hair, and tiny orbs colored like the sea turned to stare.

They blink in slight surprise when they find you, curiously shifting the lines present.

“Johnny, what the fuck?” A shrouded man grumbles, a face mask sitting comfortably over most of his expression and a hood up over his head. Blueish-gray eyes blink in your direction before their numbness shifts back to the wheezing Scot. 

“Ah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Johnny gasps, clearly drunk by the flush to his skin. You spare a look with Gaz and can’t help the amused twitch of your brow. “Didn’t realize I’d forgotten to give it back to ya!” 

“Stole my bloody wallet is what he’s done,” Kyle mutters to the man with a beard, who you assumed to be his Captain only by the atmosphere surrounding him. “We’re late for dinner.”

“Kyle, I told you it’s alright,” your hand goes to pinch his cheek before his face heats up so much you feel it from your fingers. Eyes shifting, you address the three with a smile. “Such a worrier this one,” you huff and introduce yourself by name, “...it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Sweetheart,” the Captain grunts, raising his nearly empty glass into the air in greeting. “Good to finally put a face to a name. John Price. John’s all well and good.” He motions to the masked man. “Ghost.”

You send a nod and a grin the large and intimidating Brit’s way. All he does is stare before blinking slowly.

“Soap,” Kyle levels, shifting away from you and walking closer to the Scot with a loosely motioning hand, “C’mon, Mate, you’re piss-faced—hand it over.” 

“Does he always do this?” You ask easily to Price and Ghost as the other two go at it like teens.

John shares an amused glance with you and grunts out a low chuckle. “Not always, told him to tone it down ‘fore he gets Disciplinary.” 

Ghost huffs in agreement, scratching at his arm. 

“Like tellin’ a fuckin’ dog not to go after a bone.” You snort, looking back at your boyfriend as he begins patting down a limp and slurring Soap like airport security. 

“Seems you two have got your hands full. I know Kyle isn’t above poking fun, either.” 

“Waitin’ for them to burn each other out, Love,” John utters, and you share a cheeky smile with him. 

You enjoyed how easy it was to converse with the man—especially the one that was in charge of your boyfriend while he was away. It puts you at ease to finally meet all of them... no matter how shit-faced. 

“Aha!” Gaz’s form rips out the body of his leather wallet with a shout of victory. Soap grumbles, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm. 

“If I’d known you were takin’ your bonnie girl out I’d have taken your tags instead.” 

“Well look at that, so considerate,” Kyle chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re demented, Mate.” 

“Ah, that’s just the top of it, eh?” You chuckle at the Scot’s comment, pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket and checking the time. 

“Can we still make it?” Kyle asks, jogging back up to you as you click your tongue; turning the screen and showing him with a smirk.

“Think they’ll forgive a fifteen-minute absence?” Your boyfriend slowly deflates and your face softens at the sight of his sagging shoulders. John sighs long at his seat and stands; slapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and lightly placing one on yours. 

Gaz looks up at him in surprise. 

“Well, that’s proper bad luck,” the Captain starts, face serious and tiny eyes narrowed, “say what, then, the two of you pick what you want and Soap’ll cover the cost for the night.” Ghost huffs a dull bark of a laugh from his seat. You’re not even sure Johnny heard it above him tipping back another shot. 

You and Kyle share a glance before twin smirks form on both of your faces. 

“Can…you do that, Sir?” Kyle asks, accusatory.

“What kind of a bloody question is that?” John grunts before staring at you. “Now, don’t think too hard about it, eh? MacTavish has been getting too bold—maybe losin’ a few bills’ll screw his head back straight.” 

“I have no problem with it,” your eyes slide to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

John chuckles and pats your shoulders, squeezing. “Knew she’d jump on it.”

Kyle laughs, making the most of the situation as he nods a few times—watching you with his eyes drowned with warmth and affection. 

“I’m down.” You giggle excitedly and slip into one of the dirty bar seats next to Ghost, eagerly trying to get him into a conversation about drinks and good food available in your expensive dress and jacket. 

Gaz stares after with a tiny smile, slipping his wallet into his pocket where it belongs. 

“Proper Bird,” John mutters, glancing at his Sergeant, grunting as Kyle chuffs. “It’s good to have something like that to go back to. Make it last, then.”

“I don’t plan on messing this up, Boss,” Gaz’s cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but it’s telltale how his eyes never leave your frame for a single second. “Not on my life.”

“Good.” John nods his head, “Go on.”

Kyle sends him a thankful look and shuffles over to the empty seat next to yours; feeling you immensely snuggle up into his side and continue your mostly one-sided conversation with Ghost. Soap was still drinking down his beverages with loud comments every once and a while.

Gaz kisses the top of your head and waves over the bartender.

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