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#simones reaction is everything
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villainvillain · 6 months
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maybe my expectations were too high but overall i feel a bit underwhelmed by those two episodes
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infizero · 6 months
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cant stopthinking about betty
#^ another post thats rlly funny with my current pfp. canon#anyways its genuinely terminal#i cant remember if ive already said this but i think its cause even tho i know for a fact i mustve watched episodes with her in it#because my brother says we did when we watched it as kids. i had ZERO memory of ever witnessing anything to do with her#other than ofc like. holly jolly secrets LOL but that doesnt count#i only knew of that stuff secondhand during the period where i was kind of just occasionally hearing about the show as it aired when i#wasnt watching it. so basically while i already kind of knew what happened. this is me experiencing her as a character and her plotline#essentially for the first time. and realizing ohmy god shes the best character ever. holy fawk.......................#i only just started my at rewatch and i just started s2#but before that i had skimmed thru a guy's reactions to the full series which led to me watching her episodes for the first time. and MAN.#man. i love her somsuchh oh my god. BETTYYYYYTHAHRAHGHRHGRHRGHRGH#when the character is loving to the point of unhealthy obsession and sacrificing their entire life for the other person#that shit is like cocaine to me#rlly rlly hoping that f&c addresses how crazy and fucked her constantly sacrificing everything for simon is#literally GO TO THERAPY GIRL. GO TO CHAOS GOD THERAPY.#but then again. if she went to therapy she wouldnt be a cool wizard. so maybe its not worth it#also i love a good ''normal average human character slowly becoming less and less human until they are unrecognizable''#serena.txt
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yawnderu · 4 months
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This thing breaks me every. single. time. because Simon is such a mama's boy. He had been getting tortured with his comrades non-stop, and this is literally his reaction when being told ''that's your mother's skull''. His smile?? The comfort he's getting as he holds it?? I'm gonna scream.
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Not only this but he's such a family man it's insane. This man kicked his abusive father who had been tormenting them for over 20 years out of the house, beat his ass, didn't go back to the military until his brother recovered from addiction (which he saved him from), was his brother's best man when he got married, loved and cherished his whole family, used to play with his brother's kid, showed his family true love and what a normal life is for years, even after he got hung by the ribs, tortured, SAd by men and women, had violent nightmares and mild psychosis.
This man was about to kill himself when he found his family dead, but instead he decided to get revenge for them and kill those responsible for their death, all the while he decided to become a Ghost and give his family a funeral pyre, destroying everything that attached him to Simon. But no, Simon never fully died and he knows it, that's why his tattoo sleeve has a set of dog tags in honor of him.
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tojisun · 5 months
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im going feral at the idea of biker!simon visiting you at work to bring you a little care package when you sent him a quick message, saying how tired you are :(
"hey, sunshine?" rosie asks as she stops by your desk. "someone's here askin' for you."
you would've jolted in panic at the unexpected summoning but rosie is cheekily grinning at you, her dimpled smile making her look a whole lot brighter, her exhaustion for the day easing off just a bit.
it makes you smile back.
"oh?" you say, standing up from your desk and following her towards the breakroom. "is it my prince charming?"
"i'd love to think so." you didn't expect the familiar drawl of simon's voice and you startle, whipping to face him, your eyes wide in surprise as a gasp punches itself from your lungs.
rosie slips from your mind altogether.
"hey, baby," simon greets when you remained unmoving, too stunned to know how to act. rosie giggles from behind you before hearing the familiar patter of her feet as she leaves, giving the two of you space.
"why're you here?" you finally get to respond, holding onto your excitement as you rove your eyes over your lover, cataloguing the box held in one of his hands and his helmet in the other. he must've driven here directly from the shop.
"you said you weren't feeling too good so i'm here to drop off some goodies." he shrugs as he closes the distance between the two of you before presenting you the box. you take it with trembling hands. "it ain't much but i hope it's enough to last you 'till later in the afternoon, and i promise: we'll do all that you want, yeah?"
he reaches forward to brush your hair away from your face, huffing a fond smile when he catches the way you sniffle. you're still not used to being spoiled and simon adores your shy reactions – eyes ducking away to hide from his, your teeth trapping your bottom lip to nibble on. he hopes one day you will shake away the shyness and start demanding from him. start being confident in what it is that you want.
(you can even ask simon for the stars and he won't find it unreasonable; he will claw his way into the heavens and pluck them out for you. sometimes it terrifies him how you make him feel a love so strong, it triumphs over anything and everything. but often times, simon basks in it. basks in the way his love for you overflows until it creates a crashing tide, ready to sweep him away.)
"thank you," you whisper as you slot yourself in his arms, hiding your face on his chest, breathing in the leather. you sigh wistfully when you feel him pat your head, reassuring. caring. loving.
simon kisses the top of your head. "it's no problem at all, love." he smiles down at you when you pull back just enough to stand on your tiptoes and peck him on his lips. "i'll see you later, yeah?"
you nod, falling back into his arms.
("jesus, sunshine. that is one big boy," rosie says as the two of you watch simon walk out of the office, his unmistakable bulk stark against all the exhausted office workers ambling about.
you giggle. "yeah. my big boy.")
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y13evie · 7 months
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141 + konig, Alejandro, and Rudy with an S/O that has thick thighs
141 + koni, alejandro, n rudy with a s/o that’s got thickkk thighs
a/n: im so sorry for the delay in posts but i trust have sm to post yall don’t even worry
mainly cutesy stuff with some suggestive moments
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john price loves how your thighs hug any pants you wear. he loves to keep a spare hand on them whenever he’s next to you, whether that is in a meeting or just relaxing on the couch. he believes that your thighs make your body just that much more perfect.
simon riley is obsessed with the shape of your thighs. he believes that they’re plush pillows that were made specifically for him to lay on. not even in a sexual way, he loves kissing up and down your thighs. the soft skin makes it a luxury experience for him.
johnny mactavish thinks your thighs are the best part of your body. of course he adores your face, but the way your thighs get bigger when you sit down, almost welcoming him to use them as pillows. he loves the way they grip around him when you’re on top.
kyle garrick believes being between your thighs is heaven on earth. in a sexual and non sexual manner. he loves sitting between your thighs and letting you stroke through his hair. he listens to you talk about your day but tends to get distracted by thinking about what your reaction would be if he flipped his head over.
könig LUUVSSSS how your thighs look in shorts. good lord omg. like you’ll just be walking around base and it takes everything in that tank of a man to not put you on the countertops and. i mean what omg lol. but he’ll also love up on you if you ever get self conscious about stretch marks, reassuring you it just adds to your perfections.
alejandro vargas is a slut for your thighs, sorry. the way they’re like the foundation of your body’s shape drives him insane. especially if you’re going out to an event and decide to wear a risqué dress, exposing the plush skin to everybody there. when you get home he’ll make sure to teach you a lesson.
rudy parra loves massaging your thighs. you’re not sure how it started. whenever he gets home from a particularly rough mission or if he just needs intimate time with you, he’ll make you lay down and allow him to massage them. it’s stress relieving for both you and him. rudy can’t help himself, not his fault your build is perfect.
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lundenloves · 6 months
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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info
dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.
dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.
dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.
dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.
dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.
dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”
dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.
dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.
dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.
dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.
dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.
dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.
dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.
dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.
dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”
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simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob
˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.
the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.
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peachesofteal · 3 months
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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader This will make the most sense if you read this first
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Simon is chopping vegetables when the power goes down.
It happens in slow motion. The lights waver, warm yellow glow from the living room lamp trembling before it goes out with the television, along with the bright white glaze of the bulbs in the kitchen. They flicker, they flare, dipping his world into darkness.
Months ago, he might have panicked. His anxiety might have peaked, he would have considered checking the locks, ensuring the shades are drawn, validated any weak points of entry. He would have gone for closest stashed handgun.
But things are different now. His mind doesn't jump to a security breach, or an imminent threat. He doesn't consider his consider his "go bag", he doesn't reach for his "work" phone.
Instead, he only thinks of you.
He raises his voice to ensure it reaches you through the flat. "Think we lost power."
"Simon!" Your voice is drenched in fear, the two syllables of his name dripping in it, white flash of panic just on the edge, and the knife goes down easy on the cutting board, carrots and celery nearly finished, electric burners on the stove turning from red to black. Candles. There are candles in here somewhere, aren't there? And flashlights.
"Sweetheart?" The flashlight on his cell clicks on, and he double checks the knife is safely away from the edge of the counter. He calls your name, waiting for a response, for an acknowledgment from Emma's room, where the door is open with his girls inside, one of them fresh out of the bath and hopefully, nearly asleep.
There's no answer. He sweeps the flashlight across the ground, hoping to avoid blinding you or Emmaline, working his way closer to the pitch black doorway. The space in his mind that was calm a moment ago, now begins to spiral. Why aren't you answering him? "Honey? You alright?"
Emma begins to cry. It's not her hungry cry, or her full nappy cry, or her attention cry, but something else, something scared. Distressed.
He's in the room with the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to ensure it bounces off the white paint and around the four walls within a second, heart now hammering in his chest, and when he finds you, spine stiff, eyes peeled wide in terror, something in him breaks.
You're standing in front of the crib, Emmaline cradled tightly in your arms, rapid rise and fall of your chest too fast, too uncontrolled, your usual whimsical, effortless beauty marred by a grim absence, your body frozen into a cage around the baby, empty gaze locked on the floor.
He recognizes it immediately. Knows it too well, knows it in himself better than anything else, a cursory reaction pushing him forward- his touch over yours, his hands supporting Emma's weight. You gasp into him, wild, staggered breaths that make his stomach twist, and he rubs a soothing palm down your spine. "It's okay." He coos. "You're okay, just breathe. I'm here. You're safe, mama, I've got you." Emma hollers, confused and scared, and he pulls her into his chest, holding her there with one arm, another still tethered to you, trying to jog you back to yourself, to your body. To him. "Just breathe, sweetheart. You're alright, take a big breath."
It doesn't work, and he can't do both, so he makes a split second decision, one he hopes doesn't make everything worse. "I know, baby girl. I know. Mama's alright, she's okay." He bounces Emma, relaxing a fraction when her crying settles, and then leans in to cup your cheek, tipping your face up to his. "I'm going to put her in the living room, honey. In the pack and play, okay? I'll be right back. Jus' keep breathing." You give him nothing except for an attempt at a deeper inhale, and he soothes Emma with a close cuddle, finding your phone and pulling it from the dresser to make sure the baby isn't left alone in the dark.
She goes into the little pen in the living room so easily, already nearly asleep again, and he pats her back for a moment, ensuring she's comfortable before running into the room, back to you.
You're blinking now, cheeks wet and shining in the dark, breathing a bit less haggard, and it kills him, haunts him, to see you so terrified, so lost in your own head. "Hey sweetheart. Can you hear me?" He touches you carefully, intentionally, the lack of resistance encouraging to the point he feels confident enough to hold you, cradling your head against his chest, curled over your body like a shield.
"Si-Simon." Your fingers tighten into his side.
"It's me. I'm here, I've got you."
"Em..."
"She's in the next room. She's okay." He smooths a palm over your temple, into your hair. "Let's take a look at you, sweet girl, can we do that? Can you look at me?" You tilt back, eyes and lids sluggish, but with it, conscious, and the anxious knot in his heart relaxes slightly.
"The lights." You stammer, and he nods.
"The electric went out. Did it scare you?" You give him a confused look, like you didn't hear him, or didn't understand. He strokes a thumb across your tear stained cheek and repeats himself. "It's okay, did the dark give you a fright?"
"N-no. Not..." You shake with the denial. "It's... is there a fire?"... what? He cocks his head. A fire?
Oh.
Oh.
His sweet, sweet girl. Not afraid of the dark, only lost and tormented by your grief. Terrified of losing again, trapped in a nightmare that is all too familiar to him.
"No, there's no fire, angel. I'm right here. I'm here, with you." He uncurls your frozen fingers to splay them flat against his chest, over where his heart thumps steadily, covering it with his own. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"You promise." You croak, and he hums, rocking you slowly, gently swaying in the dim light of the phone's flashlight.
"I promise." He swallows the shiver in his voice, burying his nose atop your hair, holding you as tightly as he can. "I swear. Nothing could keep me from you, nothing. Remember?" You rasp out a yeah, feathery soft and feeble, and he kisses the crown of your head, sweet and slow, rubbing your back, your shoulders, kneading the tension from your muscles until the glaze of your panic fades, somber expression tightening across your face. "None of that." He whispers, because he knows what you'll say, he know how you'll try to apologize, try to explain it. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
He gets you folded up on the couch in his arms after locating and lighting most of the candles, setting up a few flashlights in the bathroom and bedroom, collection of mix matched scents littering the coffee table. You're weepy and exhausted, watching Emma sleep in the pack and play, her blissful little face sugar plum sweet as she dreams, and he tucks you into his chest, laying you down, facing her, mouth pressing little kisses to your temple, your cheek, your ear.
"Close your eyes." He encourages when you yawn. "You can sleep. I just want to hold you." The fireplace pops, and you crack an eyelid wide.
"She might wake up." You mumble.
"I know, I'll get her." He soothes, and you wilt, easily reassured by him, something that makes his chest swell with pride. He keeps his fingers moving, stroking across your skin, settling you into twilight, and just as you slip into your own dreams, he whispers a final testament, something he carries with him, every second of every day. "I've got you. I've got you both."
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lxvvie · 3 months
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It's the little things, Part I:
It's the way Price blushes as you cover his face in kisses. He's seen and done it all, stared down the barrel of a gun more times than he can count, but nothing will ever quite throw the Cap'n off his game more than the way you show and tell him that you love him and that he's damn good at what he does.
It's the way Gaz exhales and feels all the stress leave his body. His head rests comfortably on your lap and your fingers ghost over the wrinkles on his forehead. He was only away for only a week and a half but it felt like an eternity. Gaz leaves the work behind in your embrace, closes his eyes, and it's the best damn nap he's had in a while.
It's the way Soap whines and leans into your touch as your nails work shampoo and miracles on his scalp. Oh. That's new. You do it again. Same response. You tease him about it later much to his chagrin but it's just one of many things that endear him to you. And amuses Simon if your text messages are any indication.
It's the way Ghost is trying not to laugh when you blow raspberries on his stomach. Apparently, you made it your life's mission to get a reaction out of him every time you did it, and when you finally succeeded—he said it was a cough but that's bullshit—your eyes lit up and it was the cutest fucking thing to him. Victory looks good on you, sweetheart.
It's the way Alex relaxes and his eyes flutter close when you kiss the side of his mouth. It's the way he softly murmurs, "Boss...", you murmur, "Babe..." in response, he groans in faux exasperation, and you thank whoever heard your prayers that he's safe in your arms again.
It's the way Alejandro lets his guard down and silently brings you into a hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms squeeze him back as tightly as you can. It's one of those moments where you can feel the weight he carries in the tension in his body but it's also a reminder that just as he watches over his men, you'll always watch over him.
It's the way Rudy leaves you speechless as he tilts his head ever so slightly as he listens to you talk, and when you realize what's happening, he laughs heartily and it's your turn to be flustered. What would you do without him?
It's the way Farah leans her head on your shoulder, respite from the burden of leadership. It's the way you lean your head against hers and she feels safe all over again.
It's the way Keegan looks at you, intentional in everything he wants to convey without uttering a word. Still waters run deep, and you'd be a fool to ever doubt the things he feels for you.
It's the way Roach smiles, wide, goofy, and boyish, things he can be when he's with you. It's the crinkle around his eyes reassuring you, and it's as if your worries and fears have dissipated into nothingness.
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cntloup · 8 days
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Being stuck in a safe house with Simon where the conditions are suboptimal... and you have something to tell him
"Si, please sit down. You're freaking me out." you protest as he paces the length of the room from the door to the bed where you’re sitting.
The rusty wooden floor creaks beneath his heavy feet and the droplets of rain leak through the roof, creating an unnerving symphony.
"This should not have happened. How the fuck did they find us?" he raises his voice as his frustration mounts.
"Clearly someone ratted us out." you mumble wearily, exhaustion enfolding you as you lie down.
"I'm sorry." he says as he sits on the edge of the bed.
"Why?" you ask, "I should have known." he responds, voice low and dark, laced with remorse.
"How could you have known, Simon? There's no way you could have found out." you retort.
Silence settles in the room, except for the leaking and the occasional creaks of the floor and the walls, probably rats.
"Simon..." you call out, voice breathy and slightly wavering.
"Yes?" he implores, your voice shaking him out of his trance.
"I need to tell you something..." you continue, not meeting his gaze as your eyes remain fixated on the roof.
"What is it?" he asks, worry beginning to creep up on him.
"I-I... fuck." you stutter as tears well up in your eyes.
You finally tilt your head to look into his concerned eyes.
"What is it, love?" he takes your hand in his, squeezing lightly, encouraging you to go on.
"Si, I'm pregnant." you finally blurt out, biting your lip, afraid of what his reaction might be.
A few moments pass and his widened eyes remain locked on you.
"Please say something." you plead, anxious in anticipation.
"I-I... ok. We'll take some time off. And we'll figure it out. Together... yeah... it's alright... totally fine..." he rambles nervously as he runs his hand across his face, letting out a sigh.
"You're not mad?" you ask worriedly.
" 'course not, love. I just- I just didn't expect it to be so soon. While we're stuck in this shithole. I thought I had more time to build you a home." he says, caressing your cheek with his rough hand, love and adoration glinting in his eyes.
"You have no idea how much I wanted this. I want this. With you." he reassures you firmly.
"Oh my god, Si!" you exclaim and spring into his arms, making his chest rumble with a low chuckle.
"I love you! I love you so much!" you squeal out through tears of joy, peppering his face with kisses.
"I love you too, dove." he coos as he leans in to kiss your lips.
"I'm sorry we got stuck in here. We'll get out soon. I promise." he remarks while holding your hand and gently rubbing circles on the back of your palm.
You guide his hand to your belly to let him feel the slight bump.
He smiles fondly while shedding silent tears.
And you wipe them away, resting your forehead on his as you breathe each other in.
Together, you can tackle anything and everything.
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 
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loveindefinitely · 4 months
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02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛
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༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal
series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.
// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //
"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."
You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."
...Alright.
So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.
Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.
Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.
It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.
Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.
You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.
༊*·˚
Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.
"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"
"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."
You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.
Your mouth opens.
Gaz grimaces.
Your mouth closes.
He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.
You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.
"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.
Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.
He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"
Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --
Oh god. Your dead dad.
"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.
There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.
So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.
"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"
Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."
Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.
Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.
It's not to be, however.
"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.
Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.
"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.
"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.
"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.
They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.
"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.
There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.
"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.
You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.
Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.
"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."
"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"
Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."
You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"
"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.
"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"
"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."
Speechless.
You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.
What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?
You needed therapy. And coffee.
And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.
"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.
Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.
His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.
"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."
"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.
At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.
Your father was dead.
And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.
Stupid, stupid girl.
They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.
"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.
They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.
You don't tell him that.
"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.
Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"
Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.
"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.
You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.
"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.
"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.
༊*·˚
Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.
"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.
Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.
...Great.
"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.
"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.
"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.
The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.
Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.
How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.
"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."
Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.
But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.
You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.
"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.
The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.
And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.
People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.
Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.
"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."
Your stomach drops.
Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.
"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."
You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.
"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"
Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."
Oh.
For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?
How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.
They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.
And he just.
Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.
What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.
You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.
Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."
He backs away. Doesn't argue.
It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.
You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.
Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."
You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.
If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.
But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.
Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.
No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.
You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.
But, you realise, this was a long time coming.
Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.
Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.
And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.
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a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!
thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah
taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll
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Pregnancy Reactions - 141, Los Vaqueros + König
Requested by Anon
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Honestly, he's stunned.
Doesn't matter how close you two are, his reaction will be the same; internally, he's panicking but on the outside? He's cold.
Probably would disappear for a while to think.
I don't think he necessarily didn't want kids - more so that he didn't want his child to end up growing up how he did, and so decided that he actively wouldn't pursue having any.
But naturally, life doesn't always work out like that.
He'd absolutely want to be a part of the child's life, he wouldn't up and leave, but it would take him a lot of time and effort to figure out how he was going to voice his concerns to you.
Doesn't like being vulnerable in any way shape or form, and talking about his past is something he avoids at all costs.
Simon wants to be able to be open with you and tell you everything but Ghost wants to shut himself off and keep it to himself.
He'd probably reappear out of the blue after a few days - wouldn't be surprised or annoyed if you were angry at him for disappearing, he expects it.
It would probably be further along in your pregnancy before he would start talking about his past - mainly snippets about how his father raised him, and why he'd been so distant with you.
He'd be the type to just watch you as you sleep - not in a creepy way, you just look so peaceful - and his eyes would trail over your growing bump, knowing that you were carrying his child and he would do anything to keep you safe.
Wouldn't want you going anywhere by yourself, especially when you're closer to your due date; doesn't trust people in general, especially strangers, so if he can't go with you he'd probably ask Johnny or one of the Team to go with you.
Feels the baby kick for the first time and he can't speak. Literally can't get a word out. There's this cocktail of emotions churning in his stomach, and all he can do is keep his hand on your bump, thumbing over the skin where he could feel his child moving.
This guy would probably scare the shit out of the Doctors when you go for your ultrasound appointments - he doesn't even say a word, he's just this hulking figure dressed in black sitting in the chair next to you, gaze burning through everyone else in the room.
He'd probably be deployed when you gave birth - would be as angry as a bear in a cage when he found out, chomping at the bit to get back to you.
The first time he held the baby, all wrapped up in their little blankets, he felt his heart swell.
They were so small in his arms, big eyes peering up at him in wonder at their Dad's face.
So innocent and pure, not yet hurt by the world.
He felt a tug in his stomach as he remembered how he felt when he held his nephew for the first time…
And he made a promise to both you and his little one that he would never let anyone hurt you or take you away from him.
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
His first reaction? "Ah shite."
Now don't take that as him being angry or annoyed - he's not, he's just surprised. It's a knee jerk reaction.
Regardless if it was a one-night stand or you've been together for a while, he's going to be equal parts shocked and amazed at the prospect of being a Dad.
He'd thought about the prospect of having a family before but with his job, he just didn't think it was a possibility.
Goes with you to every appointment - if he's deployed, he phones and texts you when he can, asking how you and the "wee one" are doing.
Carries an ultrasound picture in his wallet and is definitely the type of guy who shows the Team every time it comes up in conversation - Ghost acts annoyed but was secretly honoured when Johnny said that he could be "Uncle Ghost."
The Team - well, mainly Soap, Gaz and sometimes Price - would try and decide on a nickname for the little one for when they were born; they decided on 'Suds,' since Soap and Suds sounded cool.
He's not really bothered about what gender the baby will be - a mini version of either of you would be amazing in his eyes, and as long as they're a happy and healthy baby that's all he could ever want.
Absolutely panics when you go into labour - and probably would faint at least once in the delivery room.
If you ended up having a caesarean section, his face would be absolutely priceless - he's no stranger to blood and gore, but the fact that you're awake and talking to him while your insides are being moved around makes him queasy.
Definitely cried when he held the baby for the first time - and wouldn't let them go for a while.
Captain John Price
Now this was something he wasn't expecting at all.
He's an older guy, and considering his role in the military and his lifestyle in general he didn't think he would ever have kids of his own.
Would be protective of you from the get-go, wouldn't let you do any heavy lifting or anything strenuous.
Probably wouldn't tell the Team outright - it would end up randomly coming up in conversation and they all would be so amazed and confused since they had no idea.
Absolutely dotes on you throughout your pregnancy - rubs your feet, gets you any foods or drinks that you're craving, even does that thing where he lifts your bump from behind to give you a reprieve from the weight.
Would love to have a son but would be equally as overjoyed if you had a daughter.
Definitely packs your maternity bag well in advance of your due date - everything is crisply folded and organised, showing his military training.
He's easily the most calm out of everyone when you go into labour - he may have cringed a bit when he saw the epidural needle but you didn't see anything.
I can see him as the Dad who doesn't do babytalk, but he doesn't speak to the baby like an adult either - he just chats away to them while they're bundled up against his chest, little hand wrapped around his thumb.
Yep, they'd absolutely have him wrapped around their finger from day one.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Similarly to Soap, his initial reaction is basically “oh shit.”
He’s still quite young, and he’d never thought that far ahead in his future about settling down and having a family, so he’s gobsmacked.
Gradually warms up to the idea of being a Dad - he’d probably end up going to Price for advice, and his Captain was secretly flattered.
His face lights up and a smile spreads across his face when you guys went for your first scan appointment; seeing the baby, like a little jelly bean on the screen, made things feel so much more real.
Eventually tells the Team - Soap pats him on the back, and may or may have not asked if he can be “Uncle Soap.”
Inwardly melts when he sees the baby shoes - they’re so tiny.
I can see him as the type of guy who buys little shoes that match ones he has - him and the baby would he fashion icons.
Absolutely shits himself when you go into labour - no amount of preparation was helping him in the moment, he almost forgot to lift the maternity bag on the way out the door.
Holds the baby with the upmost care - at first he was a bit awkward because it had been a while since he’d even been around a child, but once you showed him how to hold them properly, he was golden.
Like Price, the baby has him wrapped around their tiny fingers from the jump, and he promises to protect them from anything the world could throw their way.
Alejandro Vargas
He's a passionate man so regardless of whether it was a fling or if you had been together for a long time, he's ecstatic.
Rudy is probably the first person he tells, his friend patting him on the back in congratulations.
Definitely would already start looking at baby names - he'd have a list.
Very protective, doesn’t like you going anywhere on your own and only trusts certain people to be around you, especially when you’re in your third trimester.
Rudy is number one in his list of trusted people, alongside 141; it’s so strange seeing these hulking, intimidating men become so soft and caring around you.
I reckon he’d hope for a baby girl - he’s love his child endlessly regardless of their gender but something about being a girl Dad just fits him so well.
If the baby did end up being a girl though, he’s going to be her personal bodyguard - doesn’t matter if she’s 13 or 30, nobody will be messing with his daughter.
If the baby ended up being a boy, he’d be equally as happy - having a mini version of himself around the house would be adorable.
You’d have to try and tell him to stop buying baby clothes - every time he’d go to the store to get you whatever foods you were craving, he’d come back with a million different outfits and little shoes, and honestly you guys were running out of space to put it all.
Carries the ultrasound pictures with him but only shows those who he can trust - so, mainly Rudy and some of the other members of Los Vaqueros.
Can’t stop smiling when he sees the baby for the first time, it’s surprising that his cheeks aren’t sore.
Tries not to be the overbearing Dad but watches others like a hawk when they’re holding the baby.
He’s honestly just so delighted to be a Dad.
Rudy Parra
He’s a quiet guy, so his reaction is a lot more contained in comparison to his comrade, Alejandro.
Asks if you’re sure, a small smile on his lips.
He’s excited at the prospect of being a Dad but is also worried that you or the baby would be in danger considering his line of work.
Tells Alejandro - his comrade is bursting with excitement, congratulating his friend.
You’d have the whole of Los Vaqueros and 141 ready to protect you, quelling Rudy’s fears a bit.
Doesn’t like you doing any heavy lifting and always either offers to do it for you or, as if he read your mind, goes ahead and does it for you.
Would probably try some of your pregnancy craving foods - some of them he liked, others, well he tried not to judge you too hard for your choices.
His arm is always wrapped around your waist, hand wresting on your bump, especially when you’re out somewhere; it makes him feel less anxious knowing your beside him, so he knows you’re safe.
Doesn’t really mind what gender the baby would be, hasn’t really given it much thought.
If he was deployed when you gave birth, he’d be fighting tooth and nail to get back to you.
Doesn’t let the baby go when he does - would lay next to you in bed on his back with the baby on his chest.
Does that a lot actually - you’d walk into the living room and he’d be out cold, baby sleeping away on his chest, bundled in their little blankets.
Honestly would be the best Dad
König
Similarly to Ghost, he's petrified.
He's thought about settling down one day, living the white picket fence life, having a few kids - but he rationally knew that it probably wouldn't happen like that.
As soon as you tell him that you're pregnant, he has to sit down otherwise he'd probably faint.
He's terrified of hurting you or the baby with his strength, so he'd probably close himself off for a bit to think.
Cries when he sees the scan pictures of the baby for the first time - his child.
I reckon he's still very close to his family, namely his Mother, back home and so he'd be trying to figure out the best way to tell her that she's going to be a Grandmother.
His heart melts when he sees the little baby outfits you'd picked out - the little soft-soled shoes look even smaller in the palm of his hand.
He was already protective of you before but the bigger your bump gets, the more he's practically glued to your hip.
Always worries about you when he gets deployed - he's even more vicious and calculative on the field now that he knows that he has to make it home to you and the baby.
When you go into labour, he almost has a panic attack.
He's practically running around the house trying to find the maternity bag -- it was under the bed.
Holds your hand the entire time, doesn't complain at all when you practically crush his hand during contractions.
He's almost scared to hold the baby once they're born; the Nurse hands them over to him, swaddled in their little blankets, and he handles them like they're made of glass.
Starts sobbing when he notices that they have his eyes.
His heart is so full.
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Just got this idea and it made me cry ok so for 141+König where the reader suddenly walks up to him and just kisses and holds him while crying cause they love him so much and they panicked at the thought of losing him maybe sth happened and they got scared or maybe they were just thinking about it idk FUCK I love them so much can't bear the thought of anything happening to them 😭💔
141 + Königs Reactions To You Crying For/Over Them
Warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, angst
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Simon Ghost Riley-
You hadn’t been able to find Simon all day. You chalked it up to the both of you being busy on base, but usually you’d always caught a glimpse of him throughout the day.
You had a gnawing feeling at your chest, but weren’t able to act upon it until later that night. You found Simon on the rooftop of base, staring up at the night sky as he took a drag of his cigarette.
“I thought you quit smoking.” You teased, slowly walking up to him.
When Simon didn’t give his usual witty remark in reply, you knew something was wrong. His eyes remained glued to the stars, and you could see that his eyes were red.
“Simon, are you okay?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his in a comforting gesture. “Talk to me.”
Simon tore his eyes away from the sky, and flicked his cigarette over the railing. “It’s the anniversary today.”
“Anniversary?” You asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.
“It’s been 6 years since they died.” Simon said, his voice hoarse from crying.
“Your family?” You asked, giving his hand another squeeze. In the years you’d been together, Simon had only talked about his family a few times, and you were never one to press the subject. Simon was a reserved man, and you’d don’t want to push your luck with that.
But Simon told you everything that night. Every little detail of his life when he was a child. The kind of man his father was. How his family was murdered and that the only thing he could do for them was to get revenge. No detail was spared, and once he was done speaking, Simon found a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally let someone in.
He took a breath, and looked up at you to find you sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, other than throw yourself into Simon’s arms, gripping around his waist at tight as you possibly could.
“Simon, I am so, so sorry you’ve gone through that. I don’t know.. I don’t know what to say other than I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.” You cried into his chest. “I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”
“I know, kid.” He said, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “I know.”
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John MacTavish-
You awoke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly as you blinked away hot tears. You’d just had the worst nightmare. You were out on a mission, when Johnny was killed right in front of you. The dream felt so real, and your heart was aching at the very real possibility that you could lose him on a mission.
You looked next to you, and found Johnny’s side of the bed cold and empty. It was clear he hadn’t been in bed for some time.
You threw the covers off of you, throwing one of Johnny’s hoodies on before making your way toward the gym- somewhere you knew he would be at this hour.
You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you laid eyes on Johnny. He’d worked up quite the sweat, and it was clear he’d been here for some time.
Your legs reacted before your brain could catch up, and you found yourself grabbing Johnny by the collar of his shirt and roughly placing your lips on his.
You pulled back, breathless as you looked up as Johnny with tears in your eyes. He immediately frowned, his brows furrowed in concern.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart. Are you alright?” His hands rubbed at your arms soothingly.
“I- I had a dream. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.” You sobbed, rubbing away at your tears as your eyes drifted to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”
Johnny pulled you close to him, his arms holding you tight against his chest as he pressed kisses along your temple. “I’m here, Bonnie. It was just a dream. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I couldn’t sleep.”
“It felt so real.” You said, pulling away. “I.. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you. I just.. I can’t even comprehend it.”
“Then don’t. Because I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep coming back to you, okay?” Johnny asked, lifting your chin up so that your eyes met his. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You sniffled in return, rubbing your teary eyes against his shirt causing Johnny to chuckle softly. “Let us get back to bed, yeah?”
“I’m not even tired anymore.” You mumbled, not pulling your face from Johnnys chest.
“Well, it’s a good thing a beds good for more than just sleeping, eh?” Johnny threw you a cheeky smile, before lifting you in his arms. “Gotta show my babe I’m not going anywhere.”
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John Price-
Everything happened so fast. One minute, John was by your side as a hail of bullets rained down on the two of you in the field. The next, John was halfway across the field, oblivious to the enemy behind him. It was a blur, the man raised his gun, and proceeded to shoot John in the chest.
“John!” You shrieked, watching as the man you love fell to the ground. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as your brain started to malfunction. Nothing else around you in that moment mattered. He couldn’t die, not like this. He couldn’t leave you.
You sprinted across the field, ignoring the shouts of the other soilders around you, your eyes welling with tears as John’s frame came into view.
You skidded to your knees, your hands immediately reaching for John’s face.
“John!” You whimpered, your eyes skimming down the length of his body.
“Baby, hey. It’s okay. The vest caught it. It just knocked the wind out of me.” John reached out to grab your hands, trying to calm you down, to no avail.
Your hands continued to frantically pull at his vest, you needed to see he was truly unharmed with your own eyes. “No! No you got shot!”
John grasped your hands in his gently, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N. Look at me.”
You blinked away tears, your bottom lip wobbling as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I thought I lost you.”
“I hope you know it’s going to take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me from you.” John said, before capturing your lips in his. “I promise you I’m okay, alright?”
You nodded, pulling away to help John to his feet. With one final firm kiss, the two of you finished out the mission, neither one of you straying too far from the other.
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Kyle Gaz Garrick-
You twiddled your thumbs anxiously, your eyes darting back to the front door of the base every few minutes, praying Kyle would walk through the door.
141 was expected back three days ago, and according to Laswell they’d gone radio silent the day they were supposed to come back.
You choked back a sob, burying your face into your arms. You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Kyle never came back. He was your everything.
You slowed your breathing, trying to regain your composure when the click of the front door caught your attention. Your head jumped up, your heart immediately skipping a beat as Kyle and the rest of the 141 walked through the front door, looking a little worse for wear.
Without a second of hesitation, your legs moved faster than they ever had in your life as you slammed yourself into Kyle, your arms encompassing his waist in a firm grip.
Your relationship wasn’t common knowledge, so Kyle was quite surprised when you made such a public display of affection, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His squeezed you in return, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here, babe. It’s okay.”
“They kept saying you weren’t coming back. That you were all dead.” You cried softly, burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest. “I was so scared.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He promised, holding you tighter. “I’ve got you.”
The two of you remained inseparable for the remainder of the day, neither one of you taking your eyes off each other.
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König-
It was no secret that König wasn’t the most popular person on base. Between his height, the frightening mask he wore, and his timid nature, he wasn’t known for making many friends.
It’d come as a shock to the majority of the people on base when it was announced that you and König were a couple.
You’d heard the whispers of course, just as König did. The rude comments thrown about him behind his back, unbeknownst to you, had König’s self esteem plummeting.
You didn’t find out until late one night when you found your boyfriend alone in the weapons locker, looking the most upset you’d ever seen him.
“Babe? You weren’t at dinner, is everything okay?” You asked, pausing a few paces in front of him. You’d never seen him like this and you were unsure of how to react.
“I’m a freak, Maus.” König spoke, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “No matter what I do, no matter how good I am out on the field, no matter how well I follow orders… I’ll always be the outcast.”
Your heart shattered at his words, hot tears forming in your eyes as you stepped closer to him. “König, that’s not true.”
König finally looked up at you, a solemn expression on his face- something you never wanted to see on your lover again. “It is. I know you’ve heard what they say. I’m a monster. I’m weird. I look more like the villain than the hero. It’s all things I’ve told myself before.”
“Look at me.” You said, crouching before him. You quickly wiped away the stray tears that began to fall as you spoke. “You are not any of those things. Those people are fools. They haven’t gotten to know the man underneath the mask. On the field, you’re the battering ram. A powerhouse. The perfect weapon. But off the field? You’re the best fucking person I know.”
You pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you so much König. If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how great of a person you are.”
“I don’t deserve you Maus.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter. “But I thank god every day you’re in my life.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: ahh not super happy with this turned out- I’m not sure if I captured this request the best🥺
Excited to keep putting out the next few requests. Thank you again everyone for all your support❤️
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alwaysshallow · 6 months
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everyone knows that ghost doesn't make any mistakes. his reports are ideal, every sentence is well-written and it's not like he needs anyone to correct him.
imagine the shock of everyone when higher!ranked reader tells him he has to rewrite his report, and this motherfucker smirks, asking what's wrong with it.
just because he wants her to sit here with him, talk to him, spend more time with him, knowing very well that your husband is waiting for you at home. he does it with a certain intention, just to irritate your husband, just to do a fake-worry face, when you come back after his call.
"every work has sacrifices" he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. it's intimate gesture; he knows that physical touch will get to you. he's aware of everything, he knows this is the advantage he needs. "he won't understand it. ever."
soap looks at ghost like he's crazy, when he meets him in the hallway. asks what this is about, but ghost just grumbles that he had a bad day, trying to justify himself.
trying to justify his need to destroy the marriage between you and your husband.
but is it really destroying, when he's just there for you?
a bit of simon's reaction at your husband
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lvlyghost · 6 months
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Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing
how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.
What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk
But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭
The Weight of the World
PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.
A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕
Masterlist✨
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You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.
Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.
Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?
To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.
The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.
The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.
"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.
"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"
"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."
"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"
"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."
"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"
"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."
It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.
You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.
-
Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.
You.
The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.
Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.
You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.
You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.
The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.
The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.
It's all on him.
He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.
"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."
Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.
"Love..."
"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.
Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.
"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"
Shaking your head and biting down your lip.
"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."
"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."
You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.
"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"
He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.
"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."
"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."
A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.
"You took it off..."
"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."
"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.
"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.
"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.
You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.
"Yeah. We're still getting married."
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multific · 8 months
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Warnings: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst
Summary: After a night of passion, you face Simon with the consequences, however, his reaction is far worse than you could have ever imagined.
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You were always good at what you were doing.
Comically good. The way to take down terrorists was like a dance. A melody you create by murdering them.
What you weren't so good at were feelings. Especially your own.
No matter how tangled up you got with them, you always found a way out.
You promised you won't become attached to anyone. Attachments are dangerous.
But you did find yourself entangled with your LT.
Which wasn't good.
You knew it was unprofessional but the moment his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck, you lost all sense and only came back to it the next morning.
When once again, you lost all senses when you felt his bulge rub against your ass. It was all a mess.
You should have seen the red flags. But you chose to ignore them all.
Simon Riley for one was a huge red flag.
The entire man was a secret and you loved it. It was so exciting and interesting for you.
You knew Simon wasn't the relationship type of guy so you knew what to expect. You were ready for rejection at any given time.
But of course, it never came.
Not once did he reject anything you did, ask or told him to do.
Not even on the battlefield.
Simon knew you were talented so why would he question it? But now, now he had a question, a question he was afraid to get an answer to.
"What did you just say?"
"I'm pregnant."
Simon saw many terrible things, and done some himself, but that one word was the worst he had ever experienced.
A word that will change both of your lives and he wasn't ready for that. He was dead. Only a ghost, an idea, a machine.
Not a father.
"Get rid of it." he would reply in his panic. He honestly didn't even realize he said it out loud if it wasn't for the hurt in your eyes, he would have believed he didn't.
But he did. And it hurt.
He then turned away and left.
You promised yourself it would be the last time you saw him.
Because now, you finally could see all of his red flags.
All of them came crashing down on you.
But you also knew you won't 'get rid of it'. No, you will keep this baby.
And after getting a note from your doctor, you retired from the army, focusing on the baby and yourself instead.
Fuck Simon and his attitude.
Fuck him for not stepping up when you needed him.
Fuck him.
You will do better without him.
---
Living in a small apartment in a quiet place in London might have been the obvious choice.
But it was your choice.
You wanted to prove that you can provide for your child.
Thankfully you were smart enough to not spend the money you earned while in the army.
So, you had enough money for now.
Not for very long, but you could still get a little nursery done in your home.
You went to all of your appointments with that doctor.
Hearing the heart of your baby beating was like magic.
And then the announcement of the century, you were having a little girl.
A beautiful little girl who is yours.
Your daughter.
You needed many days to let that sink it.
Being pregnant and alone was a nightmare.
No one was there to rub your feet or to help with your cravings.
You told yourself you don't need anyone anyway… After all, who would want a woman who is pregnant with someone else's child?
There might be a couple men out there but you didn't need them.
You just needed you and your baby.
And that was enough.
When the time finally came, you could only stare at her, sleeping in her bed next to you in the hospital.
You swore to protect her from everything.
You swore to be enough for her.
You swore to love her forever.
For she was the love of your life.
Your little bundle of joy.
You gave her a name, a name you always wanted to have yourself, so you let her have it instead.
A healthy little girl.
Your daughter, Emily.
Bringing her home was possibly as challenging as it was magical.
You ordered some food for yourself before putting her to sleep.
You tried your best to remember everything the doctor and the nurses told and taught you.
There was a knock on your door, you stood up and walked to get your food.
But of course, instead of your food, a man stood in your doorway.
Simon.
"You got to be fucking with me." you said as he looked at you.
"Nice to see you too, Lass."
"What do you want?"
"I believe you have something of mine. Half, mine."
"Go fuck yourself Simon. This is all you can say? 11 months and this is the best you can do. Leave."
And you slammed the door into his face.
When your food finally arrive you did catch a glimpse of him still waiting in the hallway. But you didn't care.
Who did he think he was?
Half of his?
Fuck him.
How dare he?
---
From that day on, he was everywhere.
In the grocery store, in the park, in the restaurants. Wherever you and Emily went, Simon followed.
One day, you were sitting on a bench, Emily sleeping in her stroller when he suddenly sat down next to you.
"I'm sorry."
"That's a better start." you said, not looking at him.
"I was a complete idiot when I told you to…" he looked at the stroller as you watched him, you understood what he meant. "I have been watching you for a while now. I found you when you were five months along."
"So, you have been watching me for 6 months now?"
"About that much, yes. I died the day my family died. I am a ghost, a baby didn't fit into that."
"Then wear a condom." you said with a harsh tone, he knew he deserved it.
"I am not father material. I am a soldier. Having a child is… not for me."
"Why are you here Simon? Are you here to tell me, this time nicely, that you want nothing to do with me or my daughter? Fine, have it your way. Leave, I didn't need you then, I don't need you now."
"You were the best of us. 141 isn't the same without you. Price often said that you will be the end of me. He always joked about you and me… a quiet life, but I don't think he meant it as a joke. You fascinated me always. You are so beautiful and kind."
"Simon-"
"The day you were told you are having a girl, you were so happy. You went to a restaurant and ate so many things, then you went to the ice cream shop. The lady looked at you funny when you asked to only eat the pink ones. I followed you, I watched you."
"Why are you here Simon?"
"Price told me to find you, he told me to make things right, but he only spoke the words I have been meaning to do. I knew I needed you the moment you joined the team. I let you go because of my own doubts and fears. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you or her."
His words were sincere. His eyes were filled with guilt and regret.
You would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him. You always were and will be.
"I can't let you in Simon if you are only going to leave us." is all you could say, your voice, barely a whisper.
Simon was about to say something when Emily started to stir and cry.
You grabbed her and put her on your chest, slowly bouncing and calming her down. You looked at Simon whose eyes were glued to your little girl.
"She has your eyes." you said as he looked at you and then back to her. You moved her slightly, making her face him.
"She looks like you." he said. "Beautiful." it was something he wasn't meant to say, you could tell easily. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's what's the safest for you two."
"It's not enough. I am not going to just send you photos of her for every anniversary. I'm not going to tell her that her father wants to see her but can't. It will break her and me. Either you have us Simon or not. I'm not doing the tango with you."
"You were always the all-or-nothing type." he chuckled. He was looking at Emily and you could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. But you couldn't let him have it his way. As if to help your case, Emily reached out her small hand towards Simon, you smiled at her but waited for his reaction.
He lifted his hand and let her touch his fingers.
Simon will never forget the feeling of his daughter's first touch. It was so warm and innocent. Her little fingers played with his much bigger ones.
Simon came with the intention of letting you go. But he couldn't.
When he first saw you, you were radiating.
Your belly was showing as you walked from store to home. Simon should have known it was a done deal after that.
He should have known he will never be able to let go.
"I will make this right." he said as he let Emily wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb.
He couldn't believe just how terrible he was towards you that day. Telling you to 'get rid of it', of his daughter. He will forever regret his words. No matter how much he will do in the future. You offered him a small smile and a simple nod.
You knew he will be able to make things right, the two of you will be able to figure this out.
Simon Riley might be a walking red flag with a tragic past, but when you handed him Emily, his eyes filled with love and suddenly, in the bright daylight those red flags looked more pink to you.
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