SUMMARY: before you were blacked out lines in his dossier, you were a blank space and a needed signature while he was a secretive man and the phone call you didn't have the heart to make.
Pic credits to the amazing @/661ave
He was done. Finally. He had filled in the 50 page long application and dossier for your and your baby’s protection which took him hours to do and he was finally done, or so he thought. That was until he turned the last page.
Here, accepting terms of the non-negotiable and confidential contract, except if the applicant or subject of the request disagrees, are represented, the members of the division able to exert said demands and fulfill their duty to do so.
“Signature of applicant”, he could do that.
“Signature of Captain, proving knowledge of the process undertaken by their subordinate” Why would he need to know?
“Signature of General of the Army, granting said service” oh, now we’re pushing it.
“Bloody fucking hell…” he murmured, seating back in his office chair after reading the last and final necessary signature.
“Signature of beneficiary*”
*(if major/emancipated minor or signature of custodian if not)
This was going to be harder than expected.
That same day, Price entered his office while sipping on his tea and quickly discarded the dossiers he had been holding on his desk until one that laid neatly atop of the mess his table was, caught his attention.
“Lieutenant Simon Riley requests–” His eyes immediately shot up to the door where he saw Soap and Ghost walk by his office. He abandoned his mug and knocked on the glass to get his attention and motionned for him to come inside. Soap glanced at Ghost worriedly.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked.
Ghost furrowed his brow at him under the mask, it seemed like Soap was expecting to be caught for something “I don’t know, should ya be?”
“Good…let's keep it tha’ way Sergeant” he replied glaring at him and turning to Price’s office “It’s me he wants”
Once he entered the room closing the door behind him, he went to stand in front of Price’s desk as he still glanced questioningly at the dossier.
“Got somethin’ to tell me, Simon?”
“Did you sign it?” he plainly asked. The lieutenant really didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Not yet. I just want to understand what exactly I'm signing” Price noted, narrowing his eyes at him. The version of the dossier he held had many things blacked out meaning he’d be completely in the dark if Simon didn’t start speaking soon.
“Then you migh’ need glasses. It’s written on the first page…in bold black letters”
“That I’ve seen, I'm just tryin’ to get you to talk t’ me, Simon. Did somethin’ happen?”
“Negative. Make sure your signature is readable... tha' way we won't have to do this again” Ghost straightened and held onto the tactical vest he wore as he walked to the door but when he opened it, he turned to Price again “Just…sign the bloody papers—please”
The Captain offered him a slow nod with a soft smile he couldn’t hold back and watched him go knowing now that something or rather someone had been able to peel some layers off the stone cold soldier.
It took Ghost a decent amount of time to get all of his superiors to sign the dossier even after rushing them and conveniently forgetting how long a background check actually took but once he finally got the signed copy, he stared at three signatures and a blank space. He had to get you to sign it or nothing could or would be done.
Simon found this ridiculous, why did you need to agree to be protected? And why on earth did you have to know? Normally, these sort of documents were relayed to the beneficiary by security officers but he had requested to do it himself…he thought it'd be easier that way but as he sat in his truck parked near your apartment building glaring at the dossier on his passenger seat, he had started to feel like that decision was a mistake but deep down he knew it wasn’t. Did he really want three suited and armed people knocking on your door and asking you to sign papers you wouldn’t understand?
His knocks on your apartment door were soft, it was second nature for him when it came to you to just do everything 10 times softer. So he waited very patiently, looking down at his shoes and hyper fixating on every noise in the small building. There’s someone exiting their apartment downstairs three doors to my left. Her neighbor is coughing, don’t think he should be near the baby…could i get him evicted for it? No, that's too much… Is it really? Yes, stop. She’s not answering. I’m hearing movement, heavy and dragged steps. Go for the gun Simon– His thoughts were interrupted once he heard loud cries and the locks from your door clicking open and there you were looking up at him tiredly.
“Simon. Hi” you smiled as you looked back to where the cries were coming from.
“Hey” he cleared his throat “Sorry, I should’ve called–”
You chuckled “No, don't be ridiculous. You’re always welcome. Come in”
He watched you walk away right after to go pick up your crying daughter, bouncing her in your arms and trying to comfort her while he gently closed and locked the door and removed his shoes by the door. It was a reflex by now, his way of disconnecting from the exterior life.
“Is she alright?” he asked, concern evident in his unmasked face as he entered the living room.
“Uh…she might be coming down with something or maybe she’s teething” You looked tired, exhausted actually, the same way he did after a mission “She won’t fall asleep”
That’s it, bloke’s gettin’ evicted by sunrise. You stood in the middle of your living room and kept bouncing her in your arms, eventually smiling to yourself as her cries quieted down and when you turned and glanced at her, you realized she was ogling at Simon through teary eyes. You looked up at him and chuckled softly. “If i had known that would work, I would have called you two days ago” you spoke quietly.
“Here, I'll take her” he said, reaching for her.
“Are you sure?” you worried, receiving a low hum before your daughter was already launching herself in his arms. It was probably the deepest silence you had heard in days and it was enough to bring you to tears.
“How about we let mum rest, yeah?” the infant fussed and squirmed a bit until she heard him shush her while patting her back softly “I know, I know…Not feelin’ too well huh, bubba?” Simon mumbled as he let your daughter snuggle into him. He then reached for you, caressing your face lightly to get your attention.
“You can call me for anythin' you do know tha’, righ?” he spoke gently... as gentle as his touch had been while his eyes were fixed on your zoned out self as you looked at your daughter “Sweetheart?”
“Mmm? Oh…I–it’s really not your problem, I can’t ask you that of you”
He shook his head, stepping closer to you “You absolutely can…hop in the shower, i’ll take care of her and make you somethin’ to eat”
“You shouldn’t have t–”
“I want to–go, please love. Let me help”
It didn’t take much more for the fatigue to finally get to you, you let the warm water wash the tiredness away as all else you heard was silence and the eventual soft clinking of plates in the kitchen until that stopped too. You had no idea how long you’d been in the shower for, with your forehead against the cold tile until a voice cut through the stillness of the moment. The bathroom door had been left open so he stood in the hallway for your privacy.
“Are you okay?” he asked, receiving no answer although he knew you could hear him. He was swaying softly as your daughter slept soundly in his arms.
“Am i ever gonna be good at this?” your voice shook slightly, making his heart drop.
“She’s sick love, this isn’t about your ability to be a mother and you’re a good one… please, don’t doubt it” He then heard a quiet sniffle. The water droplets no longer fell and the shower curtain had been pushed aside.
You wrapped your towel around your body and convinced yourself that the tears were the water from your shower. The second you met your gaze in the mirror, you remembered that you were all she had, you couldn’t fall apart just then “Did you need something? I never asked”
Fuckin’ hell, the papers “How about you eat what i’ve made you and we can talk after”
You agreed, putting on clean clothes and sitting at your small dining table as you ate the sandwich he had made you while watching your daughter sleep soundly through the monitor, you didn’t even know you had bread at home and much less freshly pressed orange juice.
Simon was cleaning up the living room even after you repeatedly told him that he didn’t have to, he didn’t want to hear any of it. Not to mention that the cleaning was also helping him forget about what he knew came next.
Once you were done, you cleaned up and sat back on the dining table, waiting for him to join you. You saw him pull something from under his discarded coat before approaching you and then set what looked like an envelope in front of you before he even sat down. You didn’t touch it, only met his eyes once he was seated.
“I need you to sign it” he voiced plainly.
You carefully opened the envelope and pulled the dossier out “Lieutenant Simon Riley requests for…to be put under military custody and protection. Why? Did something happen?”
“It’s–It’s hard to explain”
You shrugged and nodded to yourself. Now, you didn’t need to know everything about the man in front of you... he had helped you when you needed it most and you obviously trusted him with your daughter, how could you not? You knew he was a good man, but this? This needed some explaining “There’s a lot you won’t explain, Simon”
“Well I’m gonna need something else this time” you spoke softly.
He felt vulnerable under your gaze in a way he could easily become addicted to. He liked the trusting relationship between the both of you but definitely loved far more the fact that you were questioning his actions and his behavior in a way he could only admire and be thankful for.
“Nothin’ happened” he assured “you don’t need to worry about tha’...I just want you to not have to worry about anythin’...ever again–I’m not around much and I can't help but worry about you two when I'm gone. I know it’s not my place but I just wanna make sure you’re safe”
You nodded at his words as you turned pages. You didn’t even know he was a Lieutenant before this. “You’re not just an...ordinary soldier, are you?”
He shook his head and ducked your eyes. Maybe this was it, he thought but there wasn’t a more noble way to go.
“Are there things we won’t be able to do?”
”No…they’ll provide daycare, protection everywhere you go, a place to stay in each place, they’ll evacuate you if any threat occurs but they’ll have you move soon to a safer place if you decide to sign it...you’ll be able to choose from a selection of houses. You don’t even have to tell me where, it doesn’t matter”
“I can't afford a house, Simon”
“You won’t need to—” you’ll be my responsibility, he wanted to say but it’d be far more appropriate if you read it in legal and platonic terms on page 36 “You also have a number you can call if anything goes wrong but I’d still like for you to call me”
You considered the look on his face for a minute and could see that he genuinely cared, not that you had any doubts about it.
Oxygen failed to reach his brain and lungs when you rose to your feet and disappeared for a second. As he held his breath, he thought about how stupid it’d be for him to die so gently but once again that train of thought was cut by the sight of you coming back with a pen.
You sat back down and before signing, you looked up at him again “Is your name really Simon?”
Simon nodded “Yes”
I never lied to you, sweetheart and never will.
“Are aliens a current concern of the government?”
“What?” he blinked at your serious face.
“Are– aliens–” you repeated slowly, emphasizing every word.
“No, I–I heard you. Why would you ask tha’?”
You shrugged, slightly leaning forward on the table “Are you one of them?”
He chuckled at the way you narrowed your eyes at him waiting for an answer “No ma’am”
“Answer the question then”
“They’re not, at least in the field I work in but I could ask around if tha’ makes ya feel any better”
“Mmm…” you held eye contact with him for a few seconds before signing the papers and sliding the dossier towards him and calling his name softly to get his attention “Whenever you’re ready…i’d like for you to tell me anything about you—Anything”
He let your question linger in the air as he looked down at your signature that now meant you entrusted him with your and your baby’s lives and he swore right then and there to honor that trust “It’ll be hard to hear and to know” he warned.
“And I was told I was hard to deal with yet here you are... I guess the right person eventually comes around”
He met your eyes at those last words... right person “Yeah?”
You nodded “I can be that person for you if you let me”
It had been practically a whisper yet so loud to his ears that it would be the only thing in his mind for days. “I’d love that”
simon ‘ghost’ riley is a light sleeper. he’s so well trained to be on high alert that even when he’s not on duty he wakes at the smallest sound.
sometimes you’ll get up in the middle of the night and he immediately sits up. “you alright?” he slurs.
you make a small sound of discomfort or wiggle a little too much and his head is turning on the pillow, his eyes on you. and he always asks if you’re okay. you’ve told him he’s being silly and sometimes you just have to get up to go to the bathroom, but you gave up on telling him that—he’s adamant on checking on you.
and anytime he wakes up, no matter where the disturbance comes from, he’s looking over to your side of the bed to make sure you’re okay first.
and if you ever do need him in the middle of the night, all you have to do is whisper his name. he opens his eyes almost immediately and instinctively tightens his arm around you. “everythin’ alright?”
and one time you couldn’t sleep. your face was buried in his chest as he clung to you, the soft rumble of his snores letting you know he was knocked out. you didn’t want to wake him, but you were crying. you barely even moved as you teared up into his chest. suddenly, his hands squeezed you tighter. “whats’a matter?” he coos softly.
you tilt your head up to him teary eyed. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”
he clicks his tongue. “tell me what’s wrong, baby.” his hand gently caressing your face, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.
and he’s so protective. if you roll over and out of his hands he’s quick to pull you back into his grip. he likes having his hands on you while he’s sleeping. it makes him feel more secure knowing you’re okay.
when you fall asleep together on the sofa, your body pressed to his, his arms are wrapped around your waist, clutching you closely against him. it doesn’t even matter if he’s too warm, he wants you touching him at all times whenever he’s asleep.
it’s gotten to the point where he can barely sleep when he’s not with you. without you safely in his arms, without being able to physically feel you under his fingertips, it continuously wakes him up. he’s lucky to get two hours in a row without waking.
this definitely sucks but thinking about price being away on base when he finally gets the call that your water has broken, kate breaking the news to him whilst he's in the middle of an interrogation
john spends the entire journey to the hospital bouncing his leg, eager not to miss the birth of his son. he was supposed to have more time, you weren't due for another 2 weeks
it's hours before he finally makes it to the building, running through the halls until he finally makes it to your room. the obvious silence coming from your room being an indicator that he had, in fact, missed the birth
he sighs, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest before gently tapping on the door to announce his entrance before slowly cracking open the door
he peeks his head in, immediately greeted with the sight of you sat up in the hospital bed, tired eyes drifting up to meet his. a soft smile graces your features at the sight of your husband
"love, i'm so sorry I wasn't here-" he starts but you cut him off with s gentle shush
"none of that matters now, john. come and meet your son." you whisper, looking down at the bundle of blue blankets resting against your chest
john takes a deep breath and takes a seat next to you on the hospital bed, leaning over to take his first look at his newborn son. he feels his eyes well up at the sight in front of him
"he's gorgeous, love. spittin' image of you." john says, gently moving the blankets away from the baby's face to get a better look at him
"he is, isn't he?" you hum, looking back up at john with a smile and a small gleam in your eye...
"you should see his sister. she's got your eyes, john." you add on, making your husband furrow his brows in confusion
"sister? love, what're-" he begins to question you but as if right on time, a nurse enters back into the room
normally the sight of a nurse wouldn't render john speechless... but when that nurse walks in holding a bundle of soft pink blankets, it's a different story.
"well? are you going to go and meet your daughter, john?" you finally say, breaking the silence.
Summary: You got injured on the field and now Ghost feels bad. Well, maybe it's not just guilt...
Note: The people have spoken. Soft!Ghost. Fluff. Short story.
In your previous team you managed to enrage a general that you shouldn’t have, and apparently kicking you out of your comfortable position was his way of punishing you. So now you came to meet your new team at the base, already having ideas of who’s who based on rumors circulating in the military.
There was Price who was fair and relatively calm, Gaz who was loyal to the fault and was a surprisingly nice guy in general once he warmed up to you, and you couldn’t forget about Soap–whose call sign you found utterly ridiculous–who was a big mouthed but reportedly funny Scotsman.
And then there was Ghost, the man who was a mystery to most. No one has seen his face from the people you talked to about the team, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t get to see it either. But that was okay. Him being a big and scary guy wearing a skull mask that every single person was terrified of was more than enough to make you cautious around him.
Fast forward to four months later, when Ghost became your shadow after a fucked up mission where you got hurt. It happened under his watch so he was probably blaming himself, but he never really gave you a reason why he was always near you. Soap was the one who mentioned him possibly feeling guilty, and since you had no better idea, you believed it to be true.
The big scary guy didn’t seem so scary anymore. He was more like a loyal guard dog that followed you everywhere and scared off people you didn't want to be around.
“You should go to bed, it’s late,” he said one evening after a briefing.
It was only the two of you in the room, everyone had left already, but he was going through some reports before taking them to Price. You let out a sigh and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your thighs as you observed him. He had left the room before, but after it emptied and it was only you in there, he came back with the files. Out of nowhere. Without a warning. He mumbled something about needing a quiet place, but that was a terrible excuse considering he had his room to go to.
For some reason he glanced over at you every once in a while, watching you as if there was something he wanted to say to you. But every time your eyes met, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him. He didn’t speak up and you weren’t about to bother him with questions. Ghost was usually pissed if someone asked too many questions, this is how Soap got burned a few times in the past.
Then something changed. He closed the folder and turned his attention to you again, this time not shying away from making it obvious he was staring. You raised an eyebrow in question, hoping he would say something, but he remained silent. With a groan you stood up and walked over to him, gently pushing the folder away so you could sit on the edge of the desk next to the lieutenant.
His hand inched closer, just enough to let his little finger brush your thigh. “It’s late,” he repeated his previous statement.
“I’m not sleepy,” you replied with a shrug. “Why have you been watching me like this? Did I do something wrong?”
Ghost sighed under the mask and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He was toying with it for a few moments, his eyes focused on the item instead of you. “You’re causing me quite a few sleepless nights, Rabid,” he muttered as he pulled out a cigarette from the box. He called you by the nickname that awful general had given you a few months back, and you knew he never did that without a good reason.
What were you supposed to say to that? I’m sorry? No, that wouldn’t be right. So you chose to be careful with your next words. “You can’t sleep?” you asked him, genuinely interested.
“Not when all I can think about is you and what I’ve done to you,” he replied quietly.
“Why, what have you done to me?”
He shook his head, mumbled something like ‘fuck it’, then pulled his mask to his nose and lit the cigarette. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him getting in trouble for this. Price would be angry, because he believed if he could refrain from lighting a cigar indoors, so could others. So now that Ghost was inhaling the smoke with closed eyes, you didn’t know what to do or say. He would eventually speak up, right?
Just when you were beginning to think he wouldn’t talk to you, his amber eyes landed on you and he said, “I sent you in there. You got hurt because of me.”
Soap had been right, he really did blame himself. Interesting. “Ghost, that wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. “Shit happens, it comes with the job. Don’t blame yourself.”
His free hand moved to take yours in his, and his long, thick, and gloved fingers wrapped around it gently. “I’m not blaming myself for you getting hurt, I know it comes with the job. I just can’t stop thinking about the what ifs. What if you died? What if you got so injured you would be discharged from the force? What if you were mad at me? What if you left me behind?” This last one made you raise an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered this after what happened,” he told you.
“Never thought about leaving you behind,” you admitted. “You would mind? If I left and we never met again, I mean.”
Instead of answering, he raised your hand to his lips. “You and me… That would be quite a conversation, wouldn’t it? With your reputation and mine… Well,” he said, and you could see the shining in his eyes that gave away he was smiling.
It took you a minute to realize he was talking about the two of you being in a romantic relationship. He was right, this would be huge. You were also a lieutenant, he wasn’t your superior, but people feared you both for different reasons. Ghost was… Ghost. All he had to do was stare at someone for five seconds and they would run away screaming. You, on the other hand, were feared because you were unpredictable. One wrong word and you would be at the poor bastard’s throat.
So yeah. If there was anything to know, people wouldn’t shut up about it. You wondered if he was aware of the bets recruits were making about you. If there was anyone from base you slept with, it would be Ghost according to most of them. Maybe they were right. Maybe that was bound to happen. But maybe Ghost was taking part in the bet for fun.
“I don’t care about that bet,” he suddenly spoke up. You were terrified for a moment since you had no idea how he figured out what you were just talking about. “I care about you. Would you mind if I kissed you?”
You were too stunned to respond, all you could think about was the fact he dared to ask you this. You weren’t that close, not with him keeping a comfortable distance all the time. “Right now? Yeah, I would mind. Let’s just get to know each other first, yeah? Maybe over a drink.”
Ghost placed a soft kiss on your hand. “Anything you want,” he told you with a smile before pulling down the mask and getting rid of the remains of his cigarette.
makarov hunting an/a (enemy? long assassin?) reader who doesn’t really want to work with him- reader knows their stuff, erasing tracks, setting up traps, etc- its a game
Cw: canon-typical death, murder, assassination, mercenary, blood, tell me if I missed any.
You were a ghost —призрак in his mother-tongue. Appearing whenever you wanted and disappearing before anyone could find you, a phantom in the business of assassination, a killer without too high of a price. He’s watched the aftermath of your handiwork, the shows you played and the kills you made, they were a masterpiece he wanted to witness, to utilise for his goals. Even from the darkness of his solitary cell, locked away in the Gulag - the Zorgaya prison complex - he kept hearing about your endeavours.
You interest him, your brought out a certain excitement, made adrenaline pump in his blood, when you were first brought up. You were the a ghost - a wraith - that haunted the world, killing off men and women for the right number. You were a killer for hire, one of the best in the industry that even he - Vladimir Makarov - had attempted to recruit, to tie you down to his name and fame, to have you work for his purpose. Permanently.
But you were a slippery one, escaping whatever trap he carefully laid out for you, falling through his fingers, finding the smallest crack - mistake - in his plan that he once thought was full-proof. You were smart, feisty and skillful, able to see through his carefully crafted words for a hire, pushing past the firewall of his mind and planting a virus, corrupting his original purpose, rooting yourself into his sick mind. This feeling, the way his heart rammed against his rib when you sent a warning shot, or when you escaped from his grasp, this wasn’t love —no, he was a being detached from such frivolous affairs. He didn’t love. He couldn’t with his cold, dead heart. This was an obsession, Makarov obsessed over things, he knit picked, he stole and took apart.
Makarov was a being whose conscious transcended the likes of capitalist westerners who’ve corrupted his motherland, small-minded and parasitic politician who made the Soviet Union crumble to dust; whose forgone the primal needs that made humanity weak —vulnerable; Vladimir Makarov was better than any man.
That’s where stemmed his obsession with you, the need to hunt you down. You portrayed yourself as a being higher than him. A better strategist and killer than him. It went from word of mouth to ear, Makarov heard from the other guards and new inmate speak of you, you achievements, the spike in your demands and the people who were ready to give you an arm and leg to pay for your service. Powerful men and women routing you an undisclosed amount of money to kill of someone, to have them assassinated in their own bedroom, to be drowned in their own bathtub or to be poisoned by their own wine.
He had Konni keep a track on your work while he waited for the right time to be freed, jumping back to work once he landed in Russia. He took it on himself to follow your steps, he had a hand in every sector of the underworld, dabbing in everything to keep his hold over the world. He couldn’t find anything about you, neither your past nor your character, you were nameless and faceless, the hooded mask obscuring your face from the world. Makarov’s best couldn’t even track you through cameras and find your deposit account, it seemed as though you had a team of your own, working in the dark to keep your and their livelihood going.
You evaded his traps, able to figure out which deals were made by him as a ploy to catch you, to find the ghost that haunted his mind. You were a disease, a parasite that unknowingly clung to him. You knew him, the messages he received through the grapevines, taunting remarks and threats that made him see red. You were too skillful, erasing your steps, making it seem as if you were never there in the first place, uninvolved with it, but the world knew who committed the crime. This was a game - or so he liked to think - of cat and mouse, he preferred being the cat, the dangerous and cunning feline who stalked the small mouse, he had to swallow his pride and confess that he played the mouse as often as he played the cat, being hunted and narrowly escaping because you let him.
But this, this meeting was a surprise, to see his призрак stand before him, tempted by the proposition he had to offer you —without any underlying meaning or hidden thoughts.
“мы наконец встретились, Призрак.” (We finally meet, ghost.)
➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓
➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER
➠CHAPTER TAGS | lil nsfw. wc 3.6k
➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | sorry this took so long!!! next ch will be out very soon because i am foaming at the mouth writing it..
one thing you hadn’t really given much thought to was the fact that your relationship with your lieutenant would be frowned upon.
everything about the two of you was forbidden. he was your direct superior while you worked on his team. he was in a much higher position of power than a measly cadet or even a sergeant. if others found out, you were risking your position. you might even get switched to a whole new division. of course, simon would be fine given his importance to price and shepherd. but you? you were expendable. you could be replaced.
simon read your thoughts as they crossed your mind that following morning. “feelin’ regretful?” you had fallen asleep beside him that night, locked away in this little bubble the two of you had created. once you stepped out of his room, you’d be hit with the harsh reality of the complexity of your situation. the forbidden fortitude that stood between the two of you.
“no, i…” your words trailed off as you shifted on the balls of your feet. you had to get to the infirmary for your shift, but an invisible force was telling you not to leave this room. that when you crossed the threshold, everything was going to fall apart. or you’d be jolted awake, everything that had happened between the two of you last night would all have been a dream.
simon wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to do this if it was too much for you. but if he voiced that, there was a very real possibility you would take his words and resonate with them—that he wasn’t enough for all this trouble. and he was selfish , so he stayed quiet.
you twirled your hands anxiously together as you debated walking through the door. simon approached you from behind, his shadow sending a shiver down your spine. he wore sweats and a fitted exercise shirt. his hand brushed the tendrils of hair away that hung on the back of your neck, making goosebumps rise in their wake.
he had never been a very touchy person. he didn’t need physical contact to know someone cared about him, or vice versa. but after feeling you against his body—the warmth of your skin, the softness of your hands, the silkiness of your hair—he had a desire to always be touching you. ever since that night in the bar bathroom, the feel of your plush skin beneath his, he was entranced. he felt like he had a pulled muscle in his hand ever since, his body just itching to have you connected back against him.
“no one will find out, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout,” he said, wanting to reassure you.
you turned to face him, his hand falling to your hip. the words were right there, but they felt tight in your throat as you gazed up at him, his eyes locked on yours. he was always so intense.
“you don’t know that.”
his lip quirked at the corner ever so slightly. “no one’s gonna be thinkin’ i’m foolin’ around with ya.”
you tilted your head. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
his fingers tightened their grip on your hip. “need me to spell it out for ya?”
you scowled at him and his eyes danced between yours.
“you’re sweet n’kind, makin’ friends with everyone here. ‘n i’m…” he paused, and you were able to fill in what he meant. he was a scary, hardass. “no one’s gonna look twice if they see us together in the hall. no one will be thinkin’ there's anythin’ happenin’ here.”
“no one would suspect you of being with me because i’m so…what? innocent? and you’re not?” you crossed your arms in annoyance, but you knew he was onto the right idea.
he chuckled and your heart stopped for a brief second. “kinda. yeah.”
“i don’t think you know how their minds work.”
“no?” he questioned, a dark look in his eyes. he backed you up so you were pressed to his door, trapped in his arms on either side of you now. “tell me. what would they be thinkin’, then? since you seem t’know them so well.”
you swallowed hard as simon’s eyes trailed down to your lips, his face leaning in quite close to yours. “you… uhm. well… you’re seen as what every guy here wishes they could be.”
“that so?” he said coyly.
“you know… you’re more skilled—more feared—than any other man here. they all wish they could be you.”
“they’d regret it the second they got their wish”
“i’m serious,” you said, trying to get him to listen to your words fully. “they admire you in an i-wish-i-was-as-badass-and-as-feared-as-he-is sort of way. and that kind of admiration carries on into all aspects. they definitely all think you’re better than them beyond what they can see.”
“where is this goin’?”
your hands reached out and grabbed onto his shirt, pulling his waist closer to you. simon’s eyes flickered down to watch, then back up.
“they think you get all the women you could possibly want. and then some. because that’s what they’d imagine for themselves if they were a war hero.”
“hero s’bit of a stretch.”
you rolled your eyes. “so we may be on different… calibers. but they probably think you’ve fucked every girl on base already. i’m just another check on your list.”
“i didn’t say it was. just what they think.”
you were looking at his chest as you spoke.
“that make y’jealous?”
your eyes darted to his. “what? no.” your cheeks were suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“s’not against the rules to sleep with ya. i don’t see the problem.” right. they couldn’t technically stop you from sleeping with teammates, but they could put a stop to things if it went beyond that.
“all i’m saying is they might suspect something if we’re around each other too much.”
he hummed in acknowledgment. though, you suspected he understood what you meant long before that moment.
“so i jus’ won’t do this out there, then,” he said before crashing his lips against yours.
you made a squealing noise in the back of your throat, not expecting his kiss. your hands clutched his shirt tighter in your fists as he attacked you. he rolled his hips against yours in desperation and you heard him grunt. it took everything in you to break away. “i–i have to get to my shift,” you said breathlessly.
he kissed you again before taking a step back, letting his hands fall to his side so you could open the door. you felt a bit dumbfounded at his stark switch, his clutch on you disappearing almost instantaneously. “oh, okay,” you muttered, understanding he was letting you leave.
was he annoyed at you?
you turned the door handle but his hands were faster as he spun you around. you yelped in surprise. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke. “i’ll find you tonight.”
and with that, he let you go and strolled over to his bathroom, likely to shower.
you blinked several times from the whiplash before grinning like an idiot and heading out of his room.
your hand ticked with anxiety as you typed medical reports into your computer in the office of the infirmary. tomorrow you were accompanying the crew on another mission. price had seemed to think you fit in well enough to keep working with the guys.
you misspelled the same word several times, sighing as you repeatedly hit the backspace on your keyboard. this meant that you were going to be in close quarters with all the men for the foreseeable future, no one quite knowing how long things would take hunting down hassan. and currently, your relationship with simon had to be kept a secret. the overwhelming anxiety about someone finding out filled you to no end.
“shit,” you mumbled to yourself as you, miffed as you screwed up another set of numbers.
you finally pushed away from your desk and let your hands fall to your lap, taking a quick breather.
not only were you worried about hiding this thing between you and simon, but you had an unsettling feeling that things might be… weird between the two of you. it was only yesterday afternoon that you thought he hated you—when he was messing with your head. and suddenly you were his girlfriend? it was happening so fast you weren’t sure how to digest it.
what if you didn’t do the things he expected from you? what if he ended up changing his mind and deciding you’re too awkward to be with? did he expect you to sneak off to sleep in the same spot as him while in the field? did he want you to talk to him during travel time? or would that make things too obvious? or did he simply want the peace and quiet?
so many things muddled your brain.
“you alright?” one of your medic friends asked you.
you spun in your wheely chair to face her. “peachy.”
she smirked, writing something down on the clipboard she was holding. “nervous about leaving tomorrow?”
you brushed some imaginary lint off your uniform. “i mean, i’ve gone with them multiple times now.”
“i didn’t ask you how many times you’ve gone off with them, i asked if you were nervous.”
your eyes darted to hers. “maybe a little…”
she sat back against the counter and rested the clipboard on her upper thighs. “shit. i would be too if i was responsible for keeping 141 alive.”
you rolled your eyes. “very comforting.”
she smirked. “i’d also be giddy as hell if i were you. some of us never see action… not that that’s a bad thing. but, i know for a fact some of the others are jealous price picked you out of all of us.”
“mhm. think he’s playin’ favorites.”
“what?” your eyes widened in defense. “price definitely does not favor me. besides, it’s scary as hell. i mean, you know what happened to me last time…”
“no, i get it. i’m on your side. but to work besides the captain? and ghost? yeah, some of these men would kill for that opportunity.”
“oh. i didn’t realize…” you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. “maybe the captain would reconsider someone else going in my stead. i don’t mind…”
she shook her head at you, pushing herself away from the counter. “i wasn’t tellin’ you all this to try and get you to fold. fuck those guys. you earned your way there whether they like it or not. what you’re doing is amazing and kind of crazy.” she grinned. “you know what you should do? smile at them when you walk by. that’ll piss them off. its not your fault they’re so incompetent price had to pick a woman .” she gave you a sarcastic grin with her last words, mocking what she had heard the other men around her saying about you out of frustration.
she reminded you of all the things soap had said to you—all his words of encouragement. you felt stupid needing praise in order to get by. you remember ghost asking if you were expecting a good job and a pat on the back for doing what you were supposed to.
he was right. but still, you appreciated your friend’s words.
“thanks,” you said as you stood.
“girls gotta have girls’ backs, right?” she smiled before walking back out into the wing to attend to patients.
it was getting late as you stared at the clock’s hand on the wall. your shift was about to end and you were feeling a little anxious about what to do. was simon really going to find you tonight? would he knock at your door knowing your roommate might be in her bunker? was he expecting you to go to him?
you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, going to exit the infirmary wing. maybe you’d stop by his room… or would that seem too clingy? you hated how much you were overthinking everything. you hadn’t done this in any of your previous relationships, so why now?
your overactive mind was cut off when you strolled out of the room, crashing into a large body. you looked up, a little astonished and in disbelief, as the masked man looked down at you, his hands steadying you.
“simon? what are you doing— oh, shit —sorry. i meant ghost…” you looked around the hall to make sure you were alone and no one overheard you saying ghost’s real name. that would just raise suspicions.
his large warm hands squeezed your shoulders. “would y’relax?”
your head turned to look up at him, his soft balaclava covering the scars you had now known were spread across his face.
“i’m sorry, i just… i don’t know what i’m doing,” you said, taking an interest in your feet.
his hand slid under your chin and tilted it up. “neither do i.”
“well, that certainly is a recipe for disaster,” you said softly, earning a chuckle from simon.
his eyes bore into yours and you felt the need to fill the silence. “my roommate will be in my room.”
simon dropped his hand. “mhm.”
“i’m just saying, you can’t come there.”
he nodded. “i know.”
your fingers pulled at a loose thread of your uniform as you spoke. “and we leave early tomorrow, someone might see me leaving your room if i stay there…”
you scoffed, a bit of the pressure leaving your shoulders at his playful tone. “what i’m saying is, what are you doing here?”
he pushed his mask up to reveal a smirk on his lips. you gasped and looked around the hall again. “simon, what if someone—”
he cut you off by grabbing your cheek and turning your face towards him. he immediately crashed his lips to yours. a brief swooning feeling filled your chest as his thumb brushed soft strokes to your cheek. your body melded against his perfectly, his hand holding your lower back, dragging you into him. all of the anxiety momentarily fled from your body as simon consumed your every sense.
his soft stubble ticked you as he moved his mouth gently against yours. you whined unconsciously as he went a bit harder, his tongue desperate as it slid into your mouth. his hand on your cheek caught the wall behind you, preventing you both from falling as he pushed against you, your body obeying his every move, your back arching into him.
he groaned softly as he pulled away. it was almost painful for him to stop so soon, but he knew how risky this was. you panted as you caught your breath, his arm still clung around your lower waist.
his eyes danced between yours, his face still dangerously close to yours. “didn’t wanna g’to sleep without doin’ that first.”
your face warmed. “i didn’t take you for such a romantic,” you lightly teased.
he smiled before pulling his mask back down and standing straight up. the loss of his body against yours was something you didn’t expect to feel so vehemently. “there's a lot of things y’don’t know ‘bout me.”
simon traced the smile on your lips as you stared up at him. he felt like he didn’t deserve any of this. his hand tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and he gave you one last lookover before turning to walk away.
you called out to him before he could get far. “are you okay with me coming tomorrow?” he stopped in his tracks. “i mean, are you okay after what happened….”
his hand balled into a fist before he looked over his shoulder at you. “can’t say i'm thrilled with the idea.”
“but you’ll be there,” you added. he was going to be there to watch you. not that you needed it, but if he was worried about you getting taken again, or hurt—
“m’not a hero. i can’t always be there to save you.” there was something harsh lingering in his words. it wasn’t directed at you, but himself. as if he was to blame for not being able to control fate.
his eyes averted your own.
“i know that. i was just saying—”
“i know what you’re sayin’” he snapped. you swallowed hard and he took a breath. “no, m’not glad you’re comin’, as much as i wanna see you. m’worried m’gonna be so focused on you the entire time, makin’ sure you’re safe, i’ll mess somethin’ up. get someone else killed.” he took a frustrated breath, seeing the hurt lingering in your eyes as he spoke. “and if something were to happen t’you…” he paused briefly. “i was there last time, and look what happened.”
“simon, that wasn’t your—”
he stepped closer to you, his hands on his hips as he towered above you. “jus’ promise me you’ll be careful. diligent.”
with your lips slightly parted, you nodded.
his fingers found your chin, his thumb stroking across the soft of your lips. and it seemed like there was something else he wanted to say, something he was contemplating. but he just gave you one final look before taking off down the hall.
you woke to vigorous knocking on your door. your roommate rolled over in her bed, “what the fuck.”
you quickly got up, eyes blurred, and opened it to find soap. “soap? what time is it?”
“we gotta go, lass. grab your shit.”
“leavin’ earlier than expected. el sin nombre’s having a…” he searched for the word, “ party in las almas tonight.” his eyes looked behind you briefly. “that your bag?” you turned then nodded. “grab it and let's go.”
you changed frantically and slung your bag over your shoulder before hustling down the barracks to the port.
it was two in the morning, the sun a long way from coming up. you stepped outside onto the gravel, several men throwing things into the humvee you were to be taking.
you came up beside price who was saying something to gaz. “iaso, good, you’re here.”
he gestured his head to the back of the vehicle. “get in. we’re departin’ in two.”
johnny came up behind you and patted your back. “lookin’ good,” he mocked, referring to your disarray.
“sorry, i didn’t exactly have the time to get dolled up.”
he chuckled before climbing into the humvee. he stretched out a hand and heaved you up. you quickly did a head count, noticing a certain skull-wearing man was missing.
you sat between soap and graves. you nervously looked over at him and said “hi,” settling your bag between your legs. something about graves always made you a bit on edge. and having him here, right now, made the hairs on your neck rise. he would usually meet on location. he didn’t typically travel with the team very often.
he glanced at you and gave a polite nod. soap leaned over to speak quietly in your ear. “we’ll be meetin’ alejandro there.”
like a sixth sense, you could feel him looking at you. ghost stepped onto the humvee and sat across from you, his eyes tracing you intently. you smiled at him and shifted uncomfortably under his watch. it was so hard to read what he was thinking under that mask. eventually, he looked away, staring at something else that caught his attention.
it felt so weird. everything about this felt weird. you were… dating your lieutenant. that sentence sounded so strange, like it wasn’t supposed to be strung together.
and here he was, his knees mere inches from yours, and you had to pretend like everything between the two of you was strictly professional.
you listened to the rumble of the humvee and the soft words soap muttered to you. it would take hours to get to las almas. eventually, you fell asleep, the sky still dark and filled with stars. it was a restless sleep absent of dreams.
the rumbling of the motor came to a brief lull, shaking you from your nap. you sat up, realizing your head had been resting against graves' shoulder. “oh my god,” you said rather faintly. “i’m sorry, i didn't mean to–”
“s’okay,” he said. “would never complain having a pretty lady falling asleep on me.”
your face warmed and you heard soap chuckle on the other side of you. “i know yer depraved, but she’s off limits,” soap joked.
graves shook his head, likely thinking back to soap’s similar words that night in the bar. he nodded at you, then got up and left the humvee.
you turned to soap, whispering. “what was that about?”
soap adjusted his tac vest. “what’dya mean?”
“ off limits ,” you mimicked. your chest tightened, worried soap had already somehow found out about you and lt.
soap stood up and stretched. “i was jus’ tryna help you. but, hey, if that’s the road y’wanna go down, be my guest,” he said, holding up his hands. he smirked at you before getting out.
you quickly gathered your bag and stood, your chest colliding with ghost’s. “s-sorry,” you muttered, looking up at him and then quickly looking away.
“you’re makin’ it obvious by tryna not be obvious,” he mumbled so only you could hear him.
“right,” you said. you nodded at him, similar to the way graves had respectfully nodded at you, and you climbed out of the humvee into the early morning light.
ghost’s hand clenched as he watched you. sure, he was possessive—a bit overprotective too—but this feeling of jealousy was a new feeling for him. or, rather, it was a feeling he hadn’t experienced to its full extent in years.
but watching you rest on graves' shoulder, nothing he could do about it… filled his chest with rage he knew he had to subdue, and fast. the last thing you all needed was a messy mission.
absolutely needs a big, loud family. his childhood was quiet, devoid of laughter and affection. he won't allow any of his children to suffer that
however, he will properly plan out his family, especially if you're first was a happy surprise. he knows what it's like to struggle with money and his babies deserve everything and more
in layman's terms, every promotion he earns comes with weeks of fucking without a condom <3
saturday nights are takeaway nights. adores spending the night in the living room with you curled up under his arm, his littlest baby sound asleep on his lap. you're oldest tapping away on their phone, poking their head up only to show you and simon a funny video
which is soon followed by them snatching their phone back when their dad starts scrolling
the middle children are partners in crime. 100% have a pack of sweets hidden under their blanket that they stole from the sweet cupboard
simon knows they have it too and he does the classic dad reach every time he hears the bag rustling
british summertime with bluecollar!simon and the fam is needed. paddling pool blown up in the back garden, simon cooking on the bbq with a beer in his hand
all your kids groaning and telling you both to 'get a room' when he hits on you in your sundress <3
simon raises class clown children. you two are always getting called into your oldest son's school because of something stupid they did
"his grades are amazing and he always turns in his homework, but he needs to stop throwing food at the year 7's in the cafeteria, mr. and mrs. riley..."
loves taking his kids to visit the construction site, price smiling at your oldest and telling them all about how he held them when they were only a baby
put's his hard hat and vest on his toddler and lets them sit in the heavy machinery (when it's not operating obvi)
when the world cup is on, it's a family event. loads of picky bits set up in the living room for dinner, let's the kids stay up a bit later, matching football shirts that say 'Riley' on the back
when he picks the kids up from school, drives past your old flat and tells the kids "that's where me and your mum used to live."