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thexsilentxwordsmith · 6 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants

“You alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep, gruff voice hit your ears, pulling your out of your thoughts.

You nodded without a sound, subtly trying to divert your gaze so that he wouldn’t look into your eyes and see all the emotion swimming inside, but at this point you really didn’t need to answer the question. The way you sit across from him with your brow furrowed into two steep peaks and your shoulders slumped forward and tight as you idly picked at the skin around your fingernails was enough of a sign. Even though you tried to dismiss him with a few muttered “I’m fine” and “It’s nothing” phrases, the man knew; whatever it was had been eating away at you for some time.

Turning his full attention to you he took your chin into his coarse grasp and tilted your head upward until your eyes met. “Then why can’t ya even look at me?” he posed his next question.

You let out a sigh, nowhere to run now as Simon wasn’t gonna let you back out. “It’s just…silly...”

An incident had been on your mind for a week now, something that should have been resolved already, but try as you might to let it go it just couldn’t be shaken. A new younger female recruit had got it into her head that she wanted a piece of the huge, mysterious Lieutenant and began to flaunt that young, supple body in his direction. Simon had not allowed it to continue for even a second after that initial encounter, making sure that you knew everything in detail, and immediately she was reprimanded and reassigned, but the damage had been done to your confidence.

Were you really right for him? Were you enough? You had never really thought of yourself as ugly, but when pitted up against some pretty thing that had the freshness of young beauty on her side, you weren’t so sure if you could really compare and that made your usual abundance of self-confidence drop to nearly zero.

Amber eyes gazed back at you as Simon waited patiently for your reply. Taking a deep, calming breath you continued. “I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you made the right choice,” you said.

“And what choice is that, hmm?” he pushed, letting you use your words even though he was sure where this was headed.

“Choosing me,” you said so softly it was barely above a whisper.

Just as he suspected, it was still bothering you and he kicked himself for not doing more before now to show you that there was no one on base or even in the whole fucking world that could compare to what he had with you. There was no one up until now that had ever kept him so tightly wound as you did that he constantly felt like he couldn't get you out of his head, that he never could get enough of you; it was a constant struggle just to keep sane so that he could do his job when he knew what would be waiting for him when he got home.

That’s why it took nothing for him to know exactly what it was that he needed to do now.

Without a word the grip on your chin was released as Simon stood to his feet. He reached down and took a hold of your hand, giving it a good, solid tug. “Come on,” he beckoned with a nod of his head to stand with him and through a bit of stubborn reluctance, you followed.

As soon as you were on your feet he pulled you into his hard, warm chest, leaning his head in close until you could feel his breath against your lips. “Of all the fuckin' mistakes I've made in my life, ya ain't one of 'em. I think someone needs a bit of extra attention, and I was a fuckin' fool waitin' till now to give it to her,” he murmured, his voice lowering into that register that always sent shivers down your spine. “Let me take care of ya, let me turn that brain of yours off for a bit and show ya how sure I am that I made the right choice.”

Before you could answer, his lips had already connected with your own to steal the words right out of your mouth. If there was one thing that experienced military man was superior at it was making you come apart at the seams like it was his fucking job. And boy did he take pride in his work.

But right here and now he would be even more meticulous in his affections as it was clear you needed to be reminded that you and only you were the best goddamn thing to grace his miserable existence. All of his undivided attention would be yours tonight and he would not stop until every single worry had left that pretty little head.

Promises were breathed into your mouth by him. "I'm not stoppin' until ya know just how fuckin' much I don't want anyone else besides ya."

In a flurry of lips and tangled limbs, you found your way over to the bed. Like a surgeon performing a delicate operation, he carefully removed each article of your clothing one by one, making sure that the exposed skin was immediately caressed and attended to before he moved on to the next. Every inch of skin on you would feel the passion in his embrace. By the time you hit the mattress’ surface, your body was already a tingling mess of nerve ends bursting to life in ways that made your mind numb.

The lights had been turned down low, their soft incandescent glow warm and inviting as the breathy sounds of unspoken desires from a man consumed filled the air. It was hard to think of anything as the thick tension permeated the space while you lay there naked sprawled out across the sheets with Simon at your side. Adoration was what he was after tonight, needing you to be left as nothing more than a puddle of pure bliss in the middle of his bed.

Toughened fingers traced all of those subtle imperfections lining your body with such tenderness as if each scar and blemish and indention were incredibly precious to him; his lips followed not far behind as he whispered praises into your skin. Those gentle words that were only for your ears alone as he couldn’t have people thinking he was going soft…even though he absolutely had been since the moment he got with you.

“How could ya ever think I would want anythin’ other than this, other than ya?" he breathed the question into the skin of your torso. “You're all I could ever want, all I fuckin’ think about; the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. My pretty girl.”

His nose nuzzled against the crook of your neck and he caught that scent: the smell of your body’s natural musk that just one whiff of could make his head fuzzy and his body tingle in a way he could not describe. All those beautifully fragrant notes that combined together to create a profile that was distinct to you so that even if he couldn’t see you he knew you were near. Closing his eyes, he breathed you in deep.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he purred into the warm skin of your shoulder before he was on the move, lips caressing over the swell of your breasts with nipples already stiff. “I just can’t ever get enough of ya. How could ya ever fuckin' think I'd give up all this for some young tart who'd get sick 'a me sooner rather than later? Fuck, you’re all I want, all I'll eva fuckin' need.”

Down, down, down he continued over the length of your stomach towards your thighs. It was like performing a sacred act, him giving you the full breadth of his overwhelming desire as he made his way from your lips to your legs, getting everything in between. He shot a hungry glance back up at you as he reached those pillowy creations that he loved so much.

He sighed. "Every inch of ya is like a goddamn dream."

Extra time he spent on your thighs as he embraced those voluptuous curves over and over again with his mouth, kissing and sucking, running his nose along them until you were whining and writhing beneath him. Shit, he had not even touched anywhere near your throbbing clit yet and still you could not stop the way your heart pounded out of your chest or your short, sticcatoed breathing that filled the silence.

“Please,” the plea fell from your open mouth, but there was no need to beg. This was your night after all and he was not about to deny you of anything.

"Whatever my pretty girl wants she's gonna fuckin' get," he smiled. "Always."

Slowly Simon’s large hands spread you open just wide enough that he could lean his face into your mossy bank. More delicate kisses were dotted over your petals, his mouth embracing all around that tender slit before his tongue gently slipped inside the folds. All that doting on your body had done it’s job in stimulating so that he was met with a wetness on his tongue as he dived in.

Shit were you sweet, like eating a peach except this one would not run out before he had gotten his fill.

That masterful tongue drew short, concise circles around your clit, lips locking around the bud intermittently to suck, using the two techniques in tandem while his nails drug lightly over your thighs until your were bucking against his face. There was no rush in his movements; he was going to take his time in drawing out your pleasure.

You couldn’t make a sound, your mind consumed completely with every flick of his tongue, every press of it firmly against you, every pass of his hands over your thighs; overstimulated doesn’t even begin to describe it. Eyes closed, mouth wide open, desperate music being moaned into the room was all you could muster as he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of your pleasure.

Leisurely Simon lapped at your clit, no rush, no hurry, with measured strokes that eased you pleasantly into your orgasm instead of violently throwing you over. You came so effortlessly that you are able to ride out that wave of ecstasy for minutes as his pace stayed at that steady rhythm until there was no more left for you to give. Only then did he emerge like a man baptized anew.

By the time he finally thrust inside you, you were a glorious mess of sweat and mewls and cum. He took you right on your back, needing to see that look in your eyes that made him feel like he was your whole world. No muscle-straining positions will he put you in tonight as all he wants is to gaze down at the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Do ya think I have any doubts now?” he asked with a muted smile. "Think I could do this with just anyone?"

Your cheeks, already warm and pink, flushed bright crimson. “No,” you shook your head.

“That's a good girl,” he praised as he adjusted your legs to be comfortable around his thick torso. “Then let’s finish this off right, yeah? You and me, sweetheart.”

Slow, even thrusts he pounded into you, stretching you and filling you full even at this angle, as he met your lips again to nearly choke you on all his passion. You could taste yourself on his breath as he claimed you body and soul.

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, just wanna stay buried in ya all the time,” he groaned between precise thrusts through your tight, moist core. Your body was paradise and he could not get enough. Pulling back he watched the connection of your bodies right at the point where he slipped inside of you. You were so full of him there was no distinction between where he ended and you began.

Simon was never a religious man, most of the time as far from it as humanly possible, but the closest he would ever come to faith was the moment he got his first feel of all that glory that first time you two went at it. It was then that your body became his church and from then on he was more than ready to give his life to worshiping at your alter with his fingers and tongue and cock; any and all instruments at his disposal to show you his unwavering devotion.

That man had been starved for far longer than he would like to admit, but the first time he buried himself in you that was all it took to fill him up. It was only you that he craved: your softness and warmth and light and no one else would ever do. As much as you were his, he was yours.

His hands ran up the sides of your torso, leaving burning trails that made you shiver as he palmed both of your breasts in each one of his hands to massage the flesh. “I want ya to come for me again,” he said, more need in his voice. “Can ya do that for me pretty girl?”

Rapidly you nodded your head up and down as you focused on what was coming.

“That’s it; wanna be sure my girl gets everything she needs to stay satisfied with me.”

There was a feeling of safety and security that you got when you were with him; no matter how rough or passionate the sex got, Simon was always right there with you in the moment so that you never felt that it was one sided. Right now that feeling spread through you along with the gathering warmth in your abdomen to help you get out of your head and let go. All those worries, all those fears, they left completely as he thrust inside you a few more times and you spilled over the edge once more.

He kissed you hard on the mouth, holding your raw lips together once more as he followed right after you. His shoulder shook as his released himself and fell into that high that he would never tire of- not when it was with you. As he let go of your lips, he smiled back down at you; that glow of ecstasy causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Ya see, there’s no one in this whole fuckin’ world I want more than ya, sweetheart,” he whispered into your temple before placed a quick kiss. “And I am always willin’ to show ya that you are the only girl for me.”

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barbiesmuse · 2 months

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୨୧ TOLERATE IT.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which you decide to meet up with simon, and to your dismay things happen between the two of you. but in the end, he still left. link to part one!

tags: angst, talk of parental issues, arguing-ish, slight fluff, delena puts some sense into simon, and reader is a pushover!!

head barbies announcements: hi barbie!! this is a lot more angsty and slightly sexual so minors dni! there will be one more part of this, but other than that enjoy!! do something kind today! peace and love!

“I miss you, love.” He missed you? You scoffed and ran a hand down your face. You wanted to ignore it, act like you never saw it. You had a new life. Simon wasn't a part of that new life. You promised yourself a long time ago that it would stay that way. You didn't want to know why he left. You want to forget him completely. But you couldn't. You knew that there would always be a part of you tied to him. Simon squeezed Delena's hand, she wasn't one to be impatient. She was gentle with Simon. She had seen the aftermath of what his father had done to him. It was rough. “Del, what if she doesn't respond,” Simon says, his eyes squeezed shut. He tries to ignore the feeling in his stomach. He felt like a nervous schoolboy texting his crush. Delena simply doesn't respond. She loved her godson to pieces but, she didn't tolerate incompetence. Simon looked up at her, waiting for an answer. Instead of answering, she shot him a tight-lipped grin.

You didn't want to respond, but there was a small part of you that felt like you should. He brought out something good in you. You always saw yourself as deeply flawed, not good enough, too hostile. Simon saw you as a phoenix. Constantly getting back up again, rising from the ashes. Your hands trembled as you picked your phone up, you had made up your mind. You were going to respond. Simon's eyes went from soft to offended in a matter of seconds. He knew what Delena was thinking, and he didn't like it one bit. Simon scoffed and took a sip of the large bottle of Disaronno that sat by his side. Delena grunted in disapproval and snatched the bottle from his hand. Simon wasn't himself anymore when Delena looked into his eyes she saw his father. That was her biggest fear. “Simon. If she doesn't respond you have no right to be angry with her. You left without any explanation. That girl deserved the world, and you could've given it to her. Yet you decided to let your trauma get in the way of something great, for the both of you.” Delena says, she stands up the bottle of alcohol still in her hand. Simon's eyes turn to his cracked phone, his lips curling into a soft smile. He picks up his phone and studies the text. It was simple, too simple for him. He wanted more, but he was never satisfied. Simon Riley could have the entire world in his hands and still be unsatisfied. He lifted his phone and showed Delena, he made sure the shards of glass didn't cut her hand. No matter how angry he was, he was gentle with the people he cared most about.

“I'll always miss you, Si.” You responded. It was simple, but it held weight. You would've done anything for him. The two of you were toxic and the both of you knew it. The toxicity was like a drug. Once you're addicted, you can't stop. No matter how long you're clean, a part of you will always long for that drug. There was a point in time when Simon angered you severely. You had held onto it like a grudge. He would make fun of you in front of his friends and leave you to do all the work around the house, but what hurt the most? He acted as if your love for him was simply a burden. Yet you tolerated it. Delena forced a smile. Thankfully, Simon couldn't see the hidden displeasure on her face. She had no problem with you. However, she did have a problem with Simon hurting you. “She misses me, Del,” Simon said with a genuine smile. His heart was beating again, he was slowly becoming the man he was. Delena's hands tightened around the bottle of alcohol, her sharp red nails digging into her palm. “You two should talk, maybe meet up. Then you can apologize.” Delena says with a smile. Yet it fades as he shakes his head. “She can't know why I left Delena, she'll think I'm a coward,” Simon says as he stands up. He needed to see you. He needs to make things right, you were his everything. Without you, he was an empty shell of a man. Delena simply shakes her head and walks away. She was getting a headache and did not have time for him. Simon grabs his broken phone in his hands and sighs. His breathing was slow and heavy, almost as if he didn't want to. Simon.

“Meet me at the café, please baby.”

Simon was one thing for sure, a master manipulator. He knew the buttons to push and when to push them. He knew you were vulnerable right now. He knew you craved his touch. The smell of cigarettes and amaretto still lingered in your house. His side of the bed still smelled like his forest body wash. He lingered. You hated it.

“Yes. Be there at six.”

talia talks: this was kinda a filler i guess? the second half of this fic will be out tomorrow morning if uni doesn't kick my ass!

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 5 months

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older!simon 'ghost' riley x inexperienced!girly!younger!reader where there's a size difference and u two finally have sex..

(pt 2 to this)

warnings: size difference (simon is 6'10 in this hehe reader is a good amount shorter and smaller than that), fem!reader, afab!reader, nicknames, penetrative sex, cowgirl sex position, p0rn without plot basically, some ddlg usage, reader calls simon 'daddy' a few times, talks of oral sex (fem receiving), age gap (about 10 years but READER IS LEGAL) , fluffy type of smut, dirty things beware >.<

note: this is more of a blurb n less of a full fic but hope u enjoy!! more stuff is comin out with simon n konig !! my requests r open so feel free to send any ideas there ALSO I KINDA HATE THIS BUT whatever<3

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

your brain already was coaxed into a mush after your first orgasm where your boyfriend sucked and rubbed on your engorged button until you were squealing and seeing stars.

now, you sat on ghost's hardened cock, ur wet cunny dripping onto it which made his light pink tip twitch with hunger.

"remember, bunny," he had whispered as he moved your pliable body to your current position. "we'll just go slow, mkay?" his gruff voiced cause ur skin to prickle with goosebumps as you nodded, your mind not all there after your numbing climax.

u absent-mindedly rubbed ur sopping, hot cunt on his erect cock, bitting ur lower lip and closing your eyes. you accidentally tuned simon's words out--hyper fixating on the pulsing that pounded between the apex of your pudgy thighs.

your toes curled in your thigh-highs as you stabeled yourself on your boyfriend's large tattooed, scarred chest.

your hole clenched around nothing as your needy cunt dragged its swollen lips and engorged button on simon's length. you were so, so gone until--

"baby," ghost hissed gently, stilling your movement on him with his large hands. "'m talkin' to ya..did y' hear what i said?"

u whined softly, a quiet protest to him stopping you from pleasure.

he kissed your pouted lips, taking one of his hands off of you to wrap his inked, muscled bicep around your body as you replied back with a shy and squeaky, "..no.."

a deep rumble in his chest from his short chuckle made the blush on your face deepen.

"was just sayin' that if it gets ta be too much for ya we can try again later, mkay?" his voice was so incredibly gentle and soft that you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or cream (lol). instead, you sighed dreamily, chewing on the fat of your swollen lower lip as you admired him. the scar at the corner of his mouth that made his smile more prominant. his blonde hair that was almost a darker brown. the tattoos that inked his body. his plump, pink lips--dark eyes and strong jaw and nose. the stubble on his jaw. you absent-mindedly played with his hair (eyes almost in the shape of cartoon-hearts if it were possible), and you could feel the way he leaned into your hand abit as his fingertips gently ran along your spine, soothing your desperate trembling. you finally nodded to his question, your chest pressing against his tattooed and scarred one. god, he was so strong and warm. "mk daddy.." you whispered, and that was a tell-tale sign for simon that you were already gone. he smiled softly, gently squishing your cheeks to create a pout, inked hand--bringing your lips closer to his.

"gonna be gentle with ya, but you hafta trust me, okay bunny? love y' so much." he murmured against your lips, his own hunger for you growing to a dangerous rate as you kitten-licked inside of his mouth. you nodded, your voice high as you whispered a mushy little, "mk. trust you, si.. lub u too.." against his mouth.

simon made his way from your soft lips down to pepper light kisses on your collar bones as his large palms held your body so nicely.

he leaned back a bit, your lips attached to his as he held your hips; lifting your lower body up a bit as you grinded gently on him like a kitty in heat.

to allow himself to adjust his cock with your sloppy hole, he lifted your hips up a bit more, and in your floaty state you could not help but grind against nothing--desperate whines and mewls escaping your kiss-bruised lips. simon meanly chuckled, his cock throbbing as he instructed you to sit up a bit.

"daddy, 'm achey.." you sniffled, pouting. simon's left hand massaged your side as he stroked his cock three times before bringing you forward briefly to plant a kiss on your lips.

"i know sweet girl, gonna make ya feel better, m'okay?"

you nodded sitting up a bit so he could line his tip up with your messy cunt.

he rubbed his hand over your right nipple, squeezing the fat of your tit as your hands groped from his chest to his hand, to his tattooed forearm.

he could feel the heat coming off of your cunt, and he tried not to lose it and immediately pummel his cock into you.

you were just so delicate.

he would never want to hurt you.

"alrigh' slowly.." his voice sounded so soft and grumbly, it made you want to rub your button against him until you saw stars. but you had to focus.

you began to sink down, simon holding you up as you whined. a bulge already forming in your belly as you whimpered at the ungodly stretch.

your boyfriend sat up, taking your lips in his for sloppy kiss before you interrupted it with a small little squeak, "a-ah!" eyebrows pulled upwards as you cried. he kissed your lips slowly but hungrily--as if trying to eat you whole.

his big hands held your hips and waist, stopping you for a moment so you could take a breath.

"shh, slower, bunny, sink d-down slower," you began to sink down again, slower this time as you took all of him. "good girl, bunny. tight cunny takin' me s-so well.."

#ghost cod #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #coquette #simon riley x innocent!reader #older!simon riley x reader #older!simon riley #older!ghost #older!ghost x reader #girly!reader #inexperienced!reader #simon riley x inexperienced!reader

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thesmuttyduchess · 1 month

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#breakfast is ready #smut #smutty smut smut #im just a girl #daddy k!nk #older simon riley #simon ghost riley #joel miller x reader #but daddy i love him #girlblogging #this is a girlblog #older man younger woman #daddy's good girl #d!lf #older men do it better

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teacupcollector · 1 year

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The Art of Misdirection - Part 2 (Task Force 141 x Reader)

Main Masterlist Modern Warfare II Masterlist

A/N: I wanted to go into how each character feels about Misdi so there is a POV swap. I don’t know if it will make sense but I hope it does! A/N: I made my own divider because I couldn’t find one. I hope it looks decent.

A/N: I also want to thank you for all the love and support! I didn’t expect the first part to take off the way it did. I hope you enjoy this part! A/N: Also I forgot who, but someone kind of guessed what happened which I found funny because it was like they read my mind lol.

Summary: Joining the 141 was a wild roller-coaster. Everyone had been apprehensive to you joining due to your age, but you are here to prove them wrong. Now as of this mission and maybe your last they are going to figure out what your nickname means.

Johnny was insistent that we go down and look at the person we just shot. I decided that we wait a minute or so to see if there was any more movement before I allowed Gaz and I to go. I have no idea what compelled them to look, but I found myself being compelled as well. Johnny stayed above and kept an eye out for us just in case. If it weren’t for his injured leg I would be the one keeping watch since I am the better shot, but in any case I wouldn’t let Gaz go by himself in case there were more enemies out there. You can easily become overwhelmed with: A. The lack of cover. And B. The brightness of night vision. Not saying that night vision is bad. That is what helped us spot the movement of this rat in the first place, but if an enemy were to shine a light it could be blinding.

“Why would there only be one person out here LT? It is odd.” I hear Gaz say. “Could be a scout...” I grunt back. “Yeah... Maybe... But wouldn’t it be best to have a duo or a trio of scouts? It’s suicide to be out here on your own. Especially with you here.” I hear Gaz chuckle. I stay quiet as we continue to approach. I suddenly feel my hands twitch in discomfort and my brow suddenly break into a sweat. As we approach the body... The body I shot down. We see an American flag velcroed on their chest. “No... No, no, no!” I hear Gaz exclaim as he immediately rushes to the only person this could possibly be.

I follow in step with him as we approach her. I feel my breath hitch as I see the dark pool of liquid through my night vision. Some coming from her head and some coming from other various injures. Gaz kneels down next to her head on her left side. Her head is currently turned to the side to the right, which is where the blood is coming from. “Y-You fucking shot her! She’-” “Hush it Garrick! We need to be quiet... Sound travels fast here.” I say in a hurried and hushed tone as I kneel next to her on her other side. I lift her head to see if the bullet penetrated any part of her head. While doing this I place two fingers on the pulse point of her neck. Blood is still spewing from her head, but she is alive.

“She’s alive sergeant... But just barely. We ne-” “Yeah because you fucking shot her ya’ prat!” Gaz exclaims again but I give him a harsh tap on the head. “Hush it or we’ll all be dead.” I say sternly before passing my rifle over to him. “Hold it.” I say as I take her pack from underneath her legs, put the night vision goggles inside, and put it over my own to carry.

After that I gather her in my arms bridal style before picking her up. Her head falls black as she feels like dead weight in my arms. I slowly and gently as I can reposition her so her head is tucked safely in my chest.

“We need to hurry back and call for a med evac. This mission will have to be put on pause for now.” I say as I begin a swift trek back to base camp. Gaz follows behind, my rifle in hand. I can feel his glare piercing the back of my head. I can’t say I blame him though. I am the one who said she was dead...

The sound of music was cascading and echoing through out the town, as well as through our earpiece. While we were talking to Misdi I was busy putting a tourniquet on Soaps leg. The ambush came to us as a surprise, but we were trying to handle it as best we can. Throughout all the chaos that was unfolding we were separated from Gaz. Now there is even more Chaos. Barbie Girl was playing non-stop in our ears as we hear the sound of a vehicle tearing ass down the street.

“Get ready!” I hear her scream over the music.

I see one of our get away vehicles tear through the road. It begins to take oncoming fire and it swerves before hitting a building. The music still plays from the car outside, but the radio went dead silent. “Corporal! Corporal! Do you copy?” I say into the radio, but all I get is static. I hear both Garrick and Mactavish both try there own radios. That is when I hear Soap say to me: “We have to get down there! We have t-” There is suddenly an explosion which causes the whole building to shake. “We need to get out of here.” I say sternly. “LT we ca-” “We can and we will! She is fucking dead Mactavish!” I say taking his arm and wrapping it around my neck and helping him up.

Due to my height he is kind of elevated slightly. We start heading toward the back of the building and away from the commotion. “I can g-” I again interrupt the members of my squad. “She is fucking dead Gaz, and we need to get going before even more shit hits the fan!” I shout as I kick the back door open and drag Soap out of it. We start making our way Northward out of the city.

“Meet us at the North face of the bell tower” I say to Gaz before continuing to drag Johnny, but he continues to squirm. “Johnny we need to get you out of here stop squirming!” I growl. “She could still be alive back there! She could have gotten away in time and we just left her!” The more Soap panics the more his accent thickens to the point I almost can’t understand him. “Soap she got shot and crashed the vehicle then it exploded, No way she got out of there.” I grunt. “You need to be quiet before we draw attention!” I hiss.

I know I sound harsh, but I need to think of the rest of my team. Soap is injured and I have no idea what Gaz would be doing or what his condition is. Misdi did this for us. I need to make sure we make it out alive, heal up, and maybe go back if there is a body.

‘Jesus... I hope they are dead... for their sake...’

They were very bubbly. All bright eyed and bushy tailed. Ready to work and ready to prove themselves. The complete opposite of me. Completely different then all of us. ‘Fuck... I am already thinking of obituaries.’

Meeting up with Gaz at that moment was hard. His face was twisted in sorrow. Now I am jogging as gently as I can back to camp with a half dead Misdi in my arms. Approaching the camp there is a small fire, a few tents with cots inside, and finally Soap is sitting on a cot next to the fire. We meet eyes and he immediately tries to stand up. “Holy sweet jesus fuck!” Soap exclaims. He begins to limp toward us in a hurry, but I rush past him and place Misdi on a cot. When I look down I can see where her head was placed on my chest there is a big blood pool there. “Get me fucking sheers and Johnny get on comms and call for emergency med evac!” I spout. Gaz hands me some sheers and I begin to cut off her shirt and a portion her pants leg were I see more bleeding. I make sure to keep my eyes on the injured shoulder. The shoulder is dislocated so I turn her on her side to see a bullet wound and not exit hole. “Fuck...” I decide to leave it where it is and move to assess her head.

I take my flashlight from my belt and open her eyes and move the light back and forth. “Her pupils are dilated. She might have a concussion or severe head trauma.” I say as I take my water canteen and remove my gloves.

I pour the water on my hands and get out a first aid kit before squirting the cheap hand sanitizer on my hands. I take some gauze and some wrapping and place it against her head. “The bleed-” “Yeah it is because you fucking shot her!” Gaz spits. “The Fuck?!” He hears Soap shout before entering the tent. “You fucking shot her! What the fu-” “Jo-” “What the fuck is wrong with you!” “WE NEED TO FOCUS ON HER” Gaz cuts in as he finishes wrapping her head. “She needs stitches, but the bleeding is to severe. She is bleeding out right now and you both are being utter twats!” Gaz says as he begins to roll her on your side. Both Gaz and Soap cringe at how limp her left shoulder is. Soap immediately grabs another tourniquet to wrap around her leg that has the injury, though it isn’t to severe they need to look at the elephant in the room, which is her shoulder.

“Did you call for medical?” I ask and Soap begins to speak. “They won’t be here for another hour. They suggested that we take the cars, but I told them that she might be to fragile to move.” All of us sigh. “I don’t know if she has enough time... We are going to have to get the bullet out ourselves. That is the only way we can stitch her up and stop the bleeding...” I say as I roll her fully on her stomach. I slide her bra strap down her crooked shoulder to see the gun shot wound. I take out a flashlight and hand it to Gaz. “Hold it here so I can see.” I say. He does just that and I take out one of my clean knives and a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit. I hear Soap say a small ‘Oh fuck’ before I begin to dig around as gently as I can in the wound. “It’s fragmented and it’s deep... Gaz it is important that you keep your eyes on it, so the flash light doesn’t move...” I can feel my voice beginning to shake.

‘I never wanted this to happen. This happened under my watch. I need to make sure she survives.’ I think to myself The first two fragments have been removed, my hands are now covered with her blood. I can stitch up anyone else. I can cut and slice down anyone on the field, but feeling her blood on my hands makes me uneasy. I am not suppose to feel this way. I need to be calm, collected, stoic, and precise. What I am doing could possibly quicken her death. I need to get through this. Fragment after fragment and I am finally done. Now we need to relocate her shoulder. “Grab a sheet from one of the cots” I say to Gaz as he sets the flashlight down. He looks as pale as a ghost.

He does just that as I gently roll Misdi on her back. After that I go over to my water canteen and pour it on my hands before wiping it on some cloth near by to get rid of the majority of the blood. Afterwards I take the sheet from Gaz and wrap it underneath her affected shoulder in her armpit. I pull both ends across her body. One underneath her and one over her chest.

“I don’t know if you have done this before Gaz, but I need you to slowly pull on the sheet so I can put her shoulder back into place.” I say as I take her arm by the wrist in my hand.

Gaz only nods before grabbing both ends of the sheet. “I will count to three and we gently pull. Got i’?” I say and Gaz nods. “1... 2... 3.”

Both Ghost and Gaz begin to pull and we suddenly hear a pop as it goes back into place. Suddenly there is a groan coming from Misdi. More groaning turns into panic screaming. She attempts to get up and tries to roll off the cot. “She’s Hypoxic! Hold her down!” Ghost commands as I hold her legs down. “No! No, no, no!” Her speech is slurred and her eyes are full of fear. “D-Don’t touch me! Let go!” “It’s us Lass! it’s okay!” I say and limp over and sits on the ground near the head of the cot.

I place a soothing palm on her cheek and turns her head to look at me. “ m'eudail (My dear) It’s me...” my voice turns soft in an attempt to sooth her. I use my thumb caresses the apple of her cheek. “J-Johnny?” Tears were collecting in her eyes. “Mhm. I’m here. I am right here. Now you are bleeding okay? We need to stitch ya up. Can we do that?” I ask.

Her eyes are glazed over with tears and confusion, but she nods. “Can ya roll over for me Lass?” He asks as he gently rolls her on her side that has the uninjured shoulder.

Her uninjured hand reaches for me and I take it in my hand. I press it against my cheek before moving my head down so her hand is in my hair. She begins to card her fingers through my hair. She has only does this a handful of times. I always found it funny because she thinks my nickname should be ‘Conditioner’ instead of ‘Soap’ because in her words not mine. “You have the softest hair that any women would want to grab.” She was immediately flustered after I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. She tried to back track, and explain that she wasn’t trying to be inappropriate in fear that she would have to file SHARP paperwork. I chuckle at the memory and I wish I could go into more detail, but I just sigh as she scratches my scalp. She begins to whimper as Gaz begins to clean the wound and stitch it up.

“That’s a good girl... You are doin’ such a good job...” I whisper to her as I reach my hand behind her head and massage her neck at the base of her skull.

While doing this her eyes slide close and her breathing evens out. I continue to whisper praises and soothing words, but I turn my gaze to Ghost and I glare. After Gaz was done he wrapped her shoulder before moving toward her injured leg. The leg went quickly and she didn’t move. Then he moved to her head in which I moved out of the way. She was alarmingly still so I pressed my fingers to her pulse point under her thumb. Her pulse is weak and my heart seems to sink from my stomach to my ass. I am angered when I see Ghost exit the tent. I decide to follow so I stumble to my feet and follow after. I don’t care if he is my superior he is getting a piece of my mind.

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simonrillleyyysss · 7 months

Note

If your doing requests otherwise dw❤️❤️❤️

Simon Riley with a younger virgin reader that’s sooo nervous when they get intimate Simon would be sooo sweet🍓🐇

༊*·˚ —principessa

-princess-

🎀💞🦢

14.10.23

softdom!ghost x young/naïve!virgin!reader

warnings; soft sex, body worship, reader is afab—amab version possible! kissing, handholding, corruption kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, fingering,small mention of spit,couch sex, p in v, pussy eating, munch ghost, age gap implied (4-6 years), DILF GHOST I REPEAT DILF GHOST

notes; don’t be afraid to ask! my requests are always open unless told otherwise!!💐he’s so sweet with a beginner i know it 💐

you hadn’t made it very far intimacy wise—especially with simon, he was your first kiss— probably your first actual, decent partner: and you worshipped him for that.

you would always hold hands and share cheeky little kisses, sure—but you’d never made it past that, always told simon you weren’t in the mood and he just nodded reassuringly, as one should do.

so, when you were sitting on the sofa; hand intertwined with his, movie tuned out of your mind, lips moulded against his and felt his hand slink under your comfy shorts—it made you quickly pull back, blinking slowly.

‘you okay, baby?’

simon asked tenderly, moving his hand to run it over your exposed thigh, kissing your cheek—you just nodded, swallowing back a response as you continued to makeout with him, trembly hands resting on his cheek.

gently, he pushed you back against the sofa, head smushed against the cushion behind your head, breath hitching as you watched his hand move to your waist, sliding down to your hips, toying with the seam of your shorts, causing your body to jolt up instinctively, simons eyes widening.

‘smthin’ wrong, lovey?’

he gruffly questioned, thick brows knitting in confusion as he watched you open your mouth to speak, pausing.

‘i’ve never..got that far.’

‘whaddya’ mean, honey?’

he questioned, shifting to lay back against the arm of the sofa, legs crossed infront of him, raising a brow before his expression softened, chuckling softly as his thumb came up to brush against your jaw.

‘never had sex, have y’sweetie?’

with a shameful shake of your head, your thumbs twiddled together nervously, swallowing the lump in your throat.

‘..no.’

with a meek whisper, you shook your head again to confirm, shoulders hunched.

it was silent for a moment, before simon gently kissed your forehead, hands running along your tummy.

‘s’fine, sweetcheeks.. do you trust me?’

simon was so tender and content with you, how on earth could this man be anymore perfect?you looked up at him dotingly, his large hands gently pressing against the pudge of your stomach.

‘..always, si.’

‘good, that’s good.’

‘don’t be embarrassed, doll. i’ll take care of’y..’

his hands were gently sliding your lacey panties down your thigh, your heart racing as he looked up at you with soft eyes, smiling gently to reassure you, shifting on the couch to lean down, hands gently coaxing your thighs apart, fingers slowly pulling your slick folds apart, kissing the inside of your thigh.

‘is this okay?’

‘..mhm—it’s..okay.’

you barely got out, head thrown against the back of the cushion, breathing becoming shaky as you let soft breaths slide from your full lips.

‘breathe, honey. i’ll go slow.’

simon reassured, and with that; his tongue slowly began working at your cunny; breath catching in your lungs as you gasped at the sudden sensation, thighs trying to slam shut—but they were quickly forced open by his hands, letting his drool spread across your innocent cunt, sucking on your sensitive clit.

‘si-iimon… feels..’

you didn’t even finish your sentence, moaning as a finger slid inside your tight cunny, stilling for a moment before slowly pumping in and out, his tongue still swirling along your clit, letting out soft hums as his finger sped up, stubble rubbing against your clit, overstimulating you.

‘oh-oh-oh!’

you gasped out, thighs trembling as your back arched, a wave of ecstasy rushing over you as your eyes rolled back, eyes slamming shut as your thick lashes fluttered against your cheeks, gasping. and covering your face—before he pulled your hand away and looked up at you.

‘wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me.’

‘that’s it.’

‘beautiful, gorgeous girl.’

he mumbled, slowly working you open with his finger; before pulling it back and pressing a kiss to your face, hands tracing over each bump and crook of your figure, whispering soft praises into your ear.

‘so, so good f’me, love..’

he mumbled, gently sliding your bra off and kissing your breasts, taking the sensitive bud of your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, tongue swirling around the sensitive nerve, fondling your breasts.

‘yr’ so perfect, absolutely amazin’..’

simons hand worked on sliding his boxers off, freeing his semi-hard cock from the restraints of the briefs, slowly stroking it—looking down at your worried expression, kissing your cheek.

‘is it gonna hurt?’

‘at first, but i’ll be gentle..swear.’

with a nod of your head, you let out a shaky exhale—swallowing back any doubt as he slowly sinked down beside you, throwing the duvet over you both, his hand sliding beneath you to hold your waist, his other resting on your hip.

‘tell me if i need to stop, okay?’

‘..kaykay.’

‘is it gonna fit?’

a moment of silence.

‘i’ll make it fit.’

simon gently murmured, chuckling to himself before slowly prodding at your hole; sliding in slowly before stopping as he heard your gasp.

‘s’okay, just breathe f’me.’

‘sisi—‘

ghost reassured, reaching out to hold your hand, kissing your knuckles, slowly inching the rest in as you gasped and hid your face against his bicep, listening to your gentle whispers and breaths, before nodding and squeezing his hand to give the green light.

‘you can..you can move..’

slowly, he began to thrust into you; it hurt at first-obviously, but soon the pain formed into pleasure, letting out a soft moan as his hips pumped his thick cock into your tight hole.

‘oh—oh my god..’

‘that’s it, baby..’

‘pretty cunnys greedy f’me, ain’t it?’

he grumbled, hand moving from his hip to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as you let out a moan, mind fuzzy as your body melted in his arms, eyes half open as your lashes fluttered; mouth agape as you pleaded for more.

‘please..please—ohmygod..more si..pleasse..’

‘fuck, baby..just like that, forgot what virgin pussy felt like, hah..’

‘so glad i’m the first man to—christ—..to taint yr’ innocence, gonna make you feel so good, doll.’

you babbled, unaware that you had already came—cunny slick with your own mess, arms limp as you cooed and moaned, eventually feeling his hips still, sliding out of your puffy cunt and spilling his own semen onto your thigh, kissing your jaw.

‘you feeling okay?’

you murmured, rolling over to rest your head against his sweaty, hairy chest—letting out shaky breaths, huffing.

‘mnnghh..mmhm.’

‘let’s get y’ a bath, eh? you did so good for me, bunny.’

#ghost x reader #ghost smut #spotify #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #simon ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost smut cod #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghosts smut #simon riley ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

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cumikering · 3 months

Text

Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

“’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

Text

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - five.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 9k (as you will see, a lot of stuff happens)

synopsis: When the mission goes south and you end up in the hands of the enemy, Ghost finds himself alone and angry, reflecting on what your presence actually means to him.

warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of torture, occasional swearing, mentions of smoking, hurt/comfort, slight happy-ending, Ghost being angry and tortured by his inner demons, military inaccuracies

notes: So this is it - the finale of a series that was initially meant to be a one shot consisting of several random fluff-filled scenes. I am actually quite satisfied with how the story turned out, although I have to warn you that this chapter is longer than usual because it consists of several pure narrative parts (background descriptions and such).

If you need therapy after reading this, just dm me the bills and I'll work something out :)

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

five.

To say Ghost was angry would have been an understatement. He was fuming, his heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the now-silent room. Even after half an hour had passed, the burning feeling in his chest did not fade away, serving instead as a reminder of his helplessness. He was angry at Laswell for pairing you up with the younger sniper team. He was furious with Price for his decision to not go after you the moment your radio stopped working...

But in the end, he was livid with himself for not being there to protect you in the first place.

He couldn’t shake the guilt that ate him from inside like a parasite, and as the seconds turned into minutes which would be bound to turn into hours, he felt the weight of his inaction suffocating him like he was the one under torture. Clenching his jaw, he began to stomp around the living room of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife and, as he felt the concerned looks of the others on him, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the events of the past 36 hours in his mind.

He felt he had failed you when it mattered most, but he was determined to set things straight and bring you back unharmed.

Or at least alive and breathing.

--- 28 hours earlier

The sky was painted in golden hues by the time you left the briefing room, the morning air being a cold, yet comforting sensation that welcomed you when you got out of the main base building. Your mind was reeling with a plethora of classified intelligence and even more questions, but at least your adrenaline levels were high enough to chase any remnants of sleep away.

It had been almost a day since you left your apartment, but you weren't in a rush to go back. You would have to pack for the next mission anyway, and the given approximation of "an undefined amount of time" was an additional reason to delay the task. Instead, you went to the only place where you knew you'd find Ghost at this hour: the unofficial smoking spot of the base, named after the lack of security cameras in the area.

And there he was, perched on a plastic chair that made him look comically big and threatened to barely hold his weight. His mask was raised to his nose, highlighting a prominent jawline, peppered with faint scars and a hint of blonde stubble. Involuntarily, your eyes focused on his plump lips and the way they were wrapped around the cigarette, its burning tip glowing orange with each drag he took. His eyes were focused on a random point on the ground, but you knew he had heard you coming- his body had unconsciously shifted towards you, his legs adopting an open stance, almost as if to greet you.

"Thought you said you'd quit", you teased him in a soft tone, dragging a chair and sitting next to him. You opened your mouth to add something but were taken aback when you saw his lips curl up in a gentle smile, accompanied by a weak laugh.

There was no humour in it, but that did not stop you from relishing in the rare sight of Ghost's grin, your eyes once again focusing on the faint scar that rested on his lower lip. You didn't know the story behind it, nobody but Price did, yet that didn't stop you, Soap and Gaz to come up with scenarios of your own, one less likely than another.

"You're staring!", he remarked in a gravelly tone, blowing out a huff of smoke.

You knew it was wrong, but you secretly enjoyed second-hand smoking when he was around. He was too stubborn to let you try one of his cigarettes, always arguing about the negative impact on your health, but it was not like he could forbid you from keeping him company. The traces of smoke in his scent were an integral part of him and sometimes you just couldn't get enough of it, your lungs always begging for more.

"I'm not!", you eventually countered, taking a deep breath in. "And you did not answer the question!"

"It wasn't a question!", he argued back with a serious expression, his lips now forming a straight line.

"You know what I mean!"

You also knew that the banter you two had going on was meant to keep him away from the edge that would send Simon away and bring back Ghost. You'd already seen glimpses of him back in the briefing room when Laswell brought you up to date on the details of the mission. Just as you were witnessing Simon now, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a desperate attempt to keep the deadly persona of the 141 Lieutenant away for as long as possible.

"Can I try one?", you went on with the distraction, already knowing his answer.

"No." - his answer was definitive, his clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow, slightly scrunching your nose. He did not seem to be fazed by your childish outburst and instead, inhaled deeply, cheeks hollowing as he drew in the smoke. The exhale came shortly after, grey tendrils of smoke escaping his parted lips before he decided to speak again:

"Wanna hear something funny?"

You were already aware of Ghost's penchant for what he called "dad jokes", but what actually were just really bad puns, although, with him, they often had the tendency to turn out darker than expected. That was why you had to carefully pick your answer because you did not want to have Ghost on the bad side before going into mission - either because you refused to listen to a pun, or because of your reaction to it.

"I'm really not sure…", you shook your head, struggling to avoid eye contact.

As expected, he went on regardless of your answer.

"What do you call cigarettes you find in a thrift shop?"

A faint smirk was profiling on his lips again as he was clearly waiting for your reaction before delivering the pun.

"Go on, tell me", you eventually nudged him, rolling your eyes in fake pretence.

"Second hand smokes."

You struggled to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread on your face, but eventually, you ended up looking to the ground and shaking your head in defeat. Another low chuckle was heard from Simon, yet when you looked back at him, the cigarette butt was already in the ashtray and his balaclava was back on. You let out a deep sigh, your lips forming a pout, but you accepted his extended hand, allowing him to lift you from the chair.

"Come on, I'll drive you home. Price said the plane leaves at 1300 hours which leaves us with… exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes to get our things in order."

"Can't wait for it!", you let out an ironic huff, a shiver going down your spine upon hearing a hushed laugh in reply.

You and Ghost were in a good place. You could only hope this would last.

---

"Sergeant L/N, these are Privates Reynolds and Jones! They will be accompanying you on this mission as a sniper, respectively a spotter!"

From the instant you set eyes on him, you knew Captain Price had chosen the tarmac to make the introduction with a firm reason in mind. Perhaps it was the thunderous roar of the engines or the massive air currents caused by the propellers of the military aircraft you were about to board, but you could tell the atmosphere was intimidating enough for the two young men that they could only hold your gaze for so long before nodding their heads in acknowledgement.

"This is Sergeant L/N and she is going to be your mentor and leader for the duration of this mission", Price went on, his tone mercilessly cold.

The previous night he'd been a friendly face, "the dad of the group", as you drunkenly mentioned him in the toast, but that day he was the Captain of one of the most lethal Task forces there had been. And with that position came no room for mistakes or second thoughts.

"You will listen to her, no matter the situation. She tells you to shoot, you shoot. She tells you to hide, you hide. Hell, she tells you to come out and surrender, you do just that if you want to come home in one piece and not in a body bag!"

And he had a tendency to be slightly dramatic sometimes. Yet it was well-intended: you could only remember the "pep-talk" he'd given you before your first mission, after having placed you in the care of one of the most deadly operators you've ever seen, also known to others as "the big boy with a skull face"; that mission had gone sideways minutes after it had begun and you ended up saving yourself and the Lieutenant twice just by being high on energizers and adrenaline.

You and Ghost did not talk about that.

"Good to meet you, boys!", you shook their hands with a firm grip before nodding them into the direction of the aircraft. "You should go and buckle up. I'll be joining you soon!"

"Yes ma'am!", they answered in unison, shooting each other a cryptic look before heading in the direction of the plane.

You and Price caught that, but before being able to talk about it, you were interrupted by the big boy with the skull face himself:

"Those are the boys Y/N's supposed to be babysitting?"

Ghost was not one to mince words, even on a good day. Perhaps, at one point in the past, he had simply decided that hiding behind a wall of well-chosen words was not worth it, or he simply preferred to make himself understood from the beginning. And when opposing something, as he was at that moment, he did not bother to hide it:

"You're lucky they're not in your care!", you decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "I don't know where Laswell found them, but I bet at least one's dad has stars on his shoulders!"

Neither you, nor Ghost liked Price's lingering silence, but you didn't show it. You trusted Kate well enough to know she would have ensured they posed no real threat to your safety and the mission's success before having them join you on the field.

What actually bothered you was that it all happened on such short notice. You barely had time to bounce back from the previous assignment before having to start a new, high-risk, high-stakes one. You were aware of your limits and confident enough that you could pull this one off - but having to look after another two people you met a couple of hours before going into the field? Sure, you knew your limits, but did they know theirs?

"Stop it! Get it out of your mind, now!"

Ghost's deep Manchester accent pulled you out of your head and back into the present moment. You shot him what was meant to be a reassuring look, unaware that you actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took you a moment to realise Price had left, leaving you two alone on the tarmac.

"They do anything you don't like, they act fishy - you report directly to me!"

He took a step forward, the tac vests you'd fastened on your bodies almost making contact. You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the tremor that coursed through you and raised your eyes to take a better look at the skull plate, firmly attached to his black balaclava by messy stitches.

Just like Price, he was quick to bounce back into being the Lieutenant of Task Force 141. You were used to seeing him in full combat gear considering the big count of missions you went together into, but you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the sight of an additional Ka-Bar knife strapped in a detachable holster on his belt. And at the two fragmentation grenades attached to the same belt. But after all, he and Soap would drop out of the plane before you hit the landing zone - he would need all the additional equipment and ammunition he could get.

"Are you ready to go into the hornet's nest?", you tried to tease him in an attempt to mask the audible gulp you had to take as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"You'll have reduced it to half before I even take out my knife!", he hummed as an answer, a soft warmth glowing in his chocolate eyes.

You opened your mouth to talk back, but you were interrupted by the loud beeping that signalled you to board the aircraft. You knew you had to go, you had a tight schedule to follow after all, but neither of you seemed to want to be the first to leave.

"I'll meet you at the safehouse?"

This time you couldn't look him in the eye, pining your gaze to the ground as your voice trembled, a soft vibration that got lost in the brutal cacophony of sounds. A surprised sound left your lips when his tac vest came back into your sight, two gloved fingers resting on your chin and lifting it until your eyes made contact with his.

"I'll be there."

You maintained eye contact as his hand fumbled for something on his vest. His glance was soft and tender, just as reassuring as his words and the gloved fingers that still lingered above your helmet strap.

"And I'll want that back."

You shot him a quizzical look before feeling an unfamiliar weight in the pocket of your tac vest. Your eyes shot down to the place, catching a glimpse of his skeleton glove before setting on the crumpled, half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"That's an order, Sergeant!", he barked out before heading towards the aircraft. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and follow him, left hand resting over the smokes.

"Roger that, sir!"

--- 2 hours earlier

"Watcher 1 to Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

Laswell's voice could be heard through the radio, partially interrupting your watch. With mechanic moves, you pressed the communication button and brought the microphone closer to your chapped lips:

"Watcher 1, this is Bravo 4-7, solid copy! Go on for traffic."

"Interrogative, have you got eyes on the target?"

Shifting a bit under the dessert camouflage net, you peered down the scope of the rifle to check the gates of the compound. Two men with hunting dogs seemed to be on foot patrol, automatic guns swaying at their hips.

"Affirmative. Do you want me to take them down?"

It had been more than 20 hours since you got into position, yet all you were ordered to do was to keep watch and stand for future orders. Since it was not the first mission of this kind, you had expected that yet you could see the Privates getting jumpy and distracted, the two of them idly chatting between their own shared camo net.

"Negative, we expect the smugglers to arrive shortly after they switch patrols- we plan to infiltrate so hold your fire!"

"Copy, Watcher 1! Bravo 4-7 out!"

Taking one last look at the current patrol, you switched the communications on the channel you used to communicate with the two Privates. During your first mission, Ghost wasn't exactly the most talkative partner and not being able to entirely understand his intentions almost got you killed. After you got to know him better, you knew that he had been testing you and that he was always ready to step in if things went more south than expected, but nonetheless, you decided to do things differently with the two soon-to-be operators:

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You turned your eyes to the left, a frown on your face as you saw the camo net slightly shift as the radio began to crackle.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1. Uhm… solid copy?"

"This is Bravo 0-7. Why the hell are you talking to your supervisor on the main channel?"

You couldn't help but giggle at Ghost's rough voice and you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was surely having the time of his life after having found a way to pick on the two men.

"Sorry sir… uhm, we were answering to Bravo 4-7-1 and…"

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, switch to channel 4 and we'll continue our private chat there."

The quiet air was filled with even more crackling static and occasional mutters coming from who was probably Reynolds. Still keeping your eyes locked on the gates of the complex, you let out a sigh as you pressed the communication button again before Ghost could intervene:

"Bravo 4-7-1, use the red dial that is next to the communication button. All Bravos, sorry for the disturbance - though we could all use a small break!"

"You've got it, Bambi! How are you holding up there?"

You smiled hearing Kyle's reassuring tone, briefly accompanied by what must have been Price's laugh. Ghost and Soap would infiltrate the building from one side, while the Captain and Gaz would break in from the other- and you would keep watch and annihilate any unexpected threat, coming from the outside.

"It's all good, Gaz, all good. Just sitting my ass here and waiting for the moment I get to save yours!"

"Have you seen this ass though? Definitely worth killing for!"

Naturally, Soap couldn't help but intervene, his cocky reply being laced with a hint of playful arrogance. You opened your mouth to give him a well-chosen answer, but Ghost beat you to it. He was in full-combat mode, his stern voice being more than enough to make you bounce back into the harsh reality of the mission.

"Keep talking, MacTavish, and there'll be no rear-end left of you by the time the job is done! Party's over, get your asses back into the game!"

"Roger!"

But you still laughed after you made sure your radio was off, shaking your head in disbelief. Even when pent up on combat stress and adrenaline, you knew Ghost's pun was intentional. Involuntarily, your hand brushed over the crumpled pack of smokes, fishing it out of the pocket and bringing it closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled slowly, a deep sigh leaving your mouth. Even after a bumpy plane ride and 20 hours spent on a stakeout, Simon's scent was lingering, a silent sign of his presence.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1, how copy?", Private John's voice could be heard through the radio, a tense silence settling in after his words. You had an inkling that they still had second thoughts on whether they were on the right channel or not.

"Solid copy, Private." You eventually decided to end their inner torment and reply, a grin forming at the corner of your lips when you heard a collective sigh from the two.

"Ma'am, we're sorry about before…"

"Mistakes happen- let that be your biggest and last one", you were prompt to cut them short, remembering how Ghost had tried to instil discipline through clipped, yet complete orders. "Now, Reynolds, tell me what you two are looking at!"

"Yes, ma'am! We're looking at two solid iron gates which are openly guarded by two mobile patrols, each one consisting of an armed man and a hunting dog. They haven't rotated in the past 5 hours, I think, so they are probably expecting to be changed soon-"

"Which also means that they might have got bored and should not be as attentive to their surroundings as-"

"Wrong, Private Johns, you are dead. Lesson number one on the battlefield, never underestimate your enemy!", you barked through the headset in a manner that would make Ghost proud. "You always need to uphold the enemy to the highest standard, not rely on their mistakes to succeed. Mistakes are occasional, but underestimating them is what will get you killed!"

The prolonged silence on their part was not a good sign and, for a moment, you wondered whether you'd been too harsh on them. But they must have known what they were signing up for temporarily joining the Task Force, so you sighed in defeat and pressed the communication button once more:

"I want you to move to the next ridge and keep watch from there. I expect detailed reports every 15 minutes from now on. Any questions?"

"No ma'am. Bravo 4-7-1 out."

"Bravo 4-7 out."

---

You started to realise something was wrong when another hour passed and the patrols were not switched, but instead doubled, with no signs of smugglers in sight. So far the main channel had been quiet and you divided your attention between the Privates' reports and being on the lookout for any signs that you've been compromised.

Your left hand was unconsciously fiddling with the cigarette pack, while your right one was adjusting the scope to focus on the road leading to the complex. Your breath hitched upon seeing a Humvee heading towards the gates and you fumbled for the communication button of the radio, bringing the mic closer to your mouth.

The sudden explosion of static coming from the radio had you almost ripping off the headset from your ears, a cold shiver running down your spine the moment you realised it.

Your radio was not working.

"All Bravos, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You could feel your heartbeat increasing at an alarming rate when no answer came and you turned to look at the place where Privates Reynolds and Johns should have been, keeping watch on the complex. Your heart dropped further in your chest when you realised the ridge was empty and there had been more than 15 minutes since their last report- still that didn't justify why they'd left their position without telling you. Were Price's orders not clear enough? Sure, your radio may have broken somehow, but they should have come and checked in with you in person as they must have been trained.

You let out a string of curses under your breath, the realisation of the imminent danger you were currently in hitting you like a bullet train. You must have been compromised, the same way the scouts Laswell mentioned had been - and your radio was not working because someone must have been using a signal jammer in the area. And judging by the absence of the two Privates, the order to retreat had already been given.

You needed to get out of there.

With rapid, but calculated movements, you disassembled the sniper and began to pack it into a camo warbag. You were slowly rolling up the camouflage net when multiple gunshots were fired on the road you had been watching. Your eyes widened in disbelief when you saw what must have been the convoy supposed to transport the weapons Laswell talked about, coming under heavy fire. There had been someone else who had known about the transport, and who must have done everything they could to get their hands on it.

And taking into consideration what they had done to the Special Forces scouts, you could easily rule out the saying that stated that the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So when you heard men hollering in what seemed to be Russian in your vicinity, you ripped out your dog tags and all the badges that identified you as a British Special Forces operator and buried them into a shallow mound, carefully placing one of Ghost's cigarettes on top of it. As the shouts grew closed, you took in a deep breath and your left hand gripped around the hilt of the extra Ka-Bar knife you kept in your boot.

With a small sigh of resignation, you accepted the fact that you couldn't outrun them without the high risk of getting killed. While the ridge you were stationed on was a good point of observation, it provided no proper cover outside of the camouflage net you've already packed and it only left you with the choice you've been trained to make and despised the most.

Surrender yourself and hope somebody will come to save you.

-- present time

"Why didn't she listen to the orders to retrea-.."

One of the Privates whose nametag read Johns tried to speak up, but his words faltered as the deadly gazes of the remaining Task Force 141 operators were set on him. And at that moment they resembled a pack of hound dogs, eager to be released on a hunt.

"Listen here, boy", Soap began in an unusually calm tone, although his tensed-up form spoke otherwise. "You and your friend here- you better pack up and make sure you board Laswell's ride, as soon as she touches ground here." His words were cold and calculated, his voice getting harsher as he went on. "See, right now we are all focused on getting back our comrade- to put it plainly, we do not have the time to deal with you leaving her behind deep in enemy territory."

He paused for better effect.

"But Lord save you once we find her because nothing will hold us back and we. Will. Be. Coming. For. You."

"That's enough, MacTavish!", Laswell curtly said as she entered the safe house. She was dressed plainly, if not for the bulletproof vest she'd donned and the usual stack of manilla folders she was usually carrying around had been replaced by a laptop she placed in front of Price and opened. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Miss L/N. As for now, she is declared as MIA."

"What do you mean, happened? I don't care what you're going to say, but I am sure as hell going to get her out of wherever she is!", Ghost couldn't contain his growl, his fingers turning white from his hard grip on the chair.

If any of his teammates noticed the sudden shift in his demeanour when Laswell declared you as missing in action, they had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. All of them were stressed, angry and tired, but there was one more feeling that was bubbling in Ghost's chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd been buried alive in a dead man's casket.

Simon Riley was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to get you in time, that he would fail to protect you when you needed it the most. He couldn't control the frantic way his heart hammered in his chest when his brain fabricated scenarios in which you were alone, cold and petrified, and it took him a great deal of what was left of his self-control not to throw caution out the window and run to find you.

Ghost was scared for you, but what terrified him the most was the thought of having to live in a world without you.

On the outside, he seemed still as a statue, his trained blank look not betraying the internal conflict that was raging inside. He saw Laswell's lips move and the laptop screen that was placed in front of him, but the lights were too bright and the colours, too saturated. He was supposed to watch a video, a drone footage, as his military-trained mind registered, but the voices in his head became too loud to ignore and the temperature in the room was too high for his liking. His breaths quickened and he felt the mask sticking to his face, suffocating him, as if he was in the coffin again, in the dark, and alone with a rotting corpse. Only it was not the body of the person who'd betrayed him, but your sleeping silhouette, gently resting your head on his chest and sighing every once in a while.

The footage from the drone zoomed in on a familiar figure who was encircled by armed men from all directions. The scene of you being taken as a hostage played in front of Ghost's eyes, but his mind did not register it as his sole focus was on your slumbering figure, the warmth of your body against his playing a big role in persuading Simon that you were actually there, with him, safe and sound.

Yet you weren't, and when he tried to brush a strand of hair away from your face he was met with the rough and cold surface of a skull plate, his fingers instantly jerking away in repulsion. A wave of nausea had him shot up from his chair and stumble to the bathroom, shaky hands fumbling with the thick mask before he could empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water. His mind was no longer muddled with what-ifs and second-guesses, but had a clear purpose in sight: one that would keep him going until the end of the earth just to see it done. His hands no longer trembled as he pulled the black balaclava on his face and headed back to the main room, paying no mind to Soap's concerned gaze.

His eyes were cold and determined as he laid his hands on the first assault rifle within reach, methodically assembling it and stuffing as many ammunition magazines as he could into the pockets of his tactical vest. His hands itched for a cigarette, but the urge only strengthened his resolve: he would find you, even if it meant it was the last thing he did.

---

You didn't even have the energy to flinch when the fist collided with your face, sending your head rolling backwards. The world was reduced to a blurry mess, blue stars dancing before your eyes. Out of instinct, you lolled your head to the side and spit on the ground, in an attempt to diminish the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. You could still feel the unpleasant stinging that overwhelmed the left half of your face where you'd been hit with the back of a gun but tried to ignore the blood that was trickling across your cheek, all too aware of the jagged line that started near the temple and stopped short of the jawline. The bastards knew how to do their job and they weren't ones to shy away from using you as a means to an end- the future facial scar they'd given you serving as solid proof for that.

"He asked you a question, filth!"

An angry conversation was taking place right in front of you, but you were too busy trying to alleviate the pain, to focus on your captors. Sometimes, familiar words would reach your ears: american, military, information; but it was clear that they were struggling to find a way to make you talk. The questions were always the same ones, similar to what you've been prepared for in interrogation training- who were you, who were you working for, what are the Americans planning? Why has everything had always something to do with the Americans?

And just as you'd been taught in interrogation training, your answers were short and clipped- revealing little to no information at that time. You were still in the phase where they saw you as an asset, a potential source of information, taking into consideration the fact that they didn't kill you on the spot, and it was up to you to dictate the rhythm of their game. Speak too fast and too soon, they will get everything they need and kill you. Say nothing for too much time, they will see you as a dead-end and kill you.

You were currently walking the tightrope, trying to keep the balance between the increasing pain you found yourself in and the amount and importance of the information you were giving them. All you had to do was to make sure you stayed alive long enough for your teammates to find you. You knew they would take care of the rest.

"We shall try a different question then, kotyonok…" You shot your captor a cold look full of spite, not sure what disgusted you more: the mocking nickname he gave you or the pressure his fingers applied on your face, so different from the calloused, yet gentle touch of Ghost. "You wouldn't tell us your name- at least give us your codename and we might get Boris here to clean up your cheek. I know you wouldn't like that cut to scar…"

Your hands were numb from the tight grip they used to tie you to the metal chair, but you could still feel them shake when a knife, your Ka-Bar knife, was pressed against your cheek. You bit your lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to stifle the tears that were pooling in your eyes, and you couldn't help but whimper when the blade was lightly traced against your skin before being sheathed, a heartless laugh following the gesture soon after.

You closed your head and let your head hang low, the rhythmic drip of your blood being the only sound that filled the room for a while. You could only hope you would make it through the next hours and your teammates wouldn't have to be greeted by your still-warm body.

---

Ghost was quick to follow the sound of Gaz's voice, his steps leading him to what proved to be quite a strategic place to observe the complex. A brief look at his compass confirmed the coordinates registered along with the drone footage, and even if more than 4 hours had passed since you'd been captured, his eyes were frantically searching for any signs that might lead him to you.

"I found something! She must have been camped here, there are still traces in the ground from where she pinned the camo net!"

"There was something in the footage…", Gaz started to mutter to himself, starting to hit heaps of dirt at random. "She was crouched over the earth like.. she was trying to bury something, I think?"

Not bothering to reply, Ghost's eyes began to systematically scan the area. At first glance, it all seemed the same, the desert soil not providing much diversity in terms of landscape. But you had to leave a mark behind, something subtle, yet noticeable at the same time, something that you could find only if you knew what you were looking for…

"That's bloody good work, Gaz!"

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden praise coming from his usually cold-demeanoured Lieutenant. For a couple of seconds, he was too distracted to notice that Ghost had kneeled on the ground, his gloved hands digging through a heap of dirt, a white cigarette carefully placed away from the mound. By the time Price and Soap joined them, he managed to unearth your dog tags and Special Forces badges and put them on display:

"She knew she would be taken in… and that revealing her identity at a later point would buy her time…"

"That's basic interrogation training, Sergeant!", Ghost barked at Soap in an unusually aggressive way that made the Scot frown in his direction.

He opened his mouth to talk back, yet no words came out when he noticed your dog tags wrapped around Ghost's hand and the obsessive way he seemed to fiddle with them. Subtly sharing a knowing look with Price, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent suggestion to let it slide, Soap turned around and started scanning the perimeter for any sign that might point to your current whereabouts. Your sudden disappearance had a big impact on all of them, yet it seemed that it affected Ghost the most, his recent mood swings being strong proof of it.

"Bloody bastards… they smoked my cigarettes…"

Simon stomped the cigarette butts under his boot, turning his head to Price, but the Captain was already meters away, fishing another cigarette butt from the ground. Nodding his head in Ghost's direction, he brought the radio closer to his mouth and pressed the communication button:

"Kate, I think we have a lead. Well, at least a path of …smoked stubs?"

Yet before Price could give the order to spread out and start looking for more tracks, Simon already went ahead of others, pulling the automatic gun from his shoulder. Under all the layers comprising of the tactical vest and the rest of the military-issued gear, his heart was thundering in his chest. Second thoughts were already forming inside his tired mind: they really got you, they stole your cigarettes, the pack he gave you for safekeeping and that was supposed to be your lucky charm- somehow, he had thought that having a physical piece of him would keep you out of harm's way.

He could only hope he found you in time before the damage you'd sustained would become irreversible.

---

"I don't think you understand how this is working, milaya…"

He was so close to you, that you could feel his rancid breath on your face, a faint familiar smell lodging in your nostrils. Your head was throbbing, and you decided you were hallucinating- Russians didn't smoke the British cigarette brand Ghost did. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, subconsciously wishing for the masked Lieutenant to find you faster.

"So far we had a monologue…- but I still think you have potential."

Out of reflex, you flinched when someone gripped your shoulders, but the pain your mind was preparing for did not come. Instead, you were untied from the chair and violently shoved forward. Your hands were still tied behind your back and you ended up falling face first on the hard concrete, letting out a pathetic moan that raised a few laughs from your captors.

As you lay there, disoriented and struggling to regain composure, you felt a pair of arms hooking your shoulders, pulling you upright and dragging you out of the room. You were too exhausted to put up a fight, the pain dangerously dulling your senses, but that didn't stop you from thrashing around in your captor's grip and throwing curses at him. To your dismay, he didn't seem fazed by it, his grip never faltering as he hauled you through a deserted corridor, seemingly underground, judging by the lack of natural light. You maintained your aggressive facade, yet your eyes were carefully studying your surroundings, taking in every little detail that might prove crucial, should you be able to escape.

Before you realised it, you were thrown into a dark room, yet this time you were able to cushion the fall and land on your knees. Wincing at the brutal impact, you squinted in an attempt to make out your surroundings and any potential escape routes.

"See, little one, everyone has a breaking point.."

The harsh voice of your captor broke through the silence, followed, as if on cue, by the lights being turned on. The sudden brightness had you close your eyes in discomfort, your wrists starting to turn red and raw from your relentless efforts to free yourself from the tight ropes. You could feel blood trickling through the small abrasions where the rope had cut into your skin.

"It seems plain violence is not yours. Not even cresting your pretty little face… I will tell you a secret, you might not live long to keep it anyway, but that is the breaking point of many- ladies and men both."

As he went on with what you decided was a well-rehearsed discourse, he started walking in circles around the room, almost like a predator circling its prey. The intimidation technique was not foreign to you, yet you did your best to morph your face into a scared and hesitant expression, giving him what he wanted to see: a person who was on the verge of breaking, someone who should be kept alive for a little more.

"So I thought to myself- the doll does not work alone. Maybe we should bring one of her friends here and see who gives in first."

If you weren't busy maintaining the terrified mask, you might have laughed at his weak attempt to extract information about your teammates. He was trying so hard to be menacing, yet he didn't know that you had been trained by the Ghost himself, who had drilled all possible interrogation scenarios into your mind. You made a mental note to thank him if you ever got out of there.

"But then I remembered we had a special room we haven't been able to test yet."

His voice grew closer and closer. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground, you focused on the blood that was dripping from your face, staining the concrete floor crimson. When he exhaled in your direction, you could clearly feel the smoke of Ghost's cigarettes wafting towards you, your hands clenching in fists at the audacity he possessed. You opened your mouth for the first time, if only to give him a piece of your mind, yet you barely had time to register him roughly grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and violently dragging you to the middle of the room.

"And if this doesn't break you… do not worry, we will find something else!"

You could barely make sense of his words, his unveiled threat, before your head was forcefully shoved into what you made out to be a basin. Piercing-cold water enveloped you from all sides, and panic surged through every fiber of your being when you realised that there was a firm grip on the back of your head, preventing you from pulling out. Your throat burned with each passing second, and your vision gradually darkened as you struggled to stay conscious, your body going limp on the edge of the bathtub.

"After all, we have all the time in the world. No one will find us here… not when we are right under their noses."

---

It took them one hour under the scorching sun, but the members of Task Force 141 had managed to discover the Russians' hideout. Following the cigarette butts eventually led them to a camouflage net, one which Ghost almost ripped away when he recognized it as yours, and they ended up staring at the entrance of what was supposed to be an underground bunker. The few guards that were lingering around didn't know what hit them, a blood-splattered skull plate being the last thing they'd seen before collapsing to the ground.

As he carefully threaded through the dimly lit corridor, Ghost's demons had never been so loud. On the one hand, his feet were urging him to bolt, to sprint through every room and hallway and find you as quickly as he could, but on the other hand, he was still part of a team with whom he shared a common purpose. Ditching them would be highly dangerous and irresponsible and it would help no one in the end.

Yet all common sense jumped out of the window when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream followed by a loud string of curses, both in English and Russian. Simon barely waited for Price's curt order to go before he bolted in the direction of the commotion, swiftly incapacitating any man who was foolish enough to get in this way.

At that moment, he didn't even need the mask to become one with the Ghost- the primal need to protect you overtook his senses, the chaotic surroundings fading into the background as the singular purpose took hold of him. When the automatic gun ran out of ammunition he simply threw it away and lunged for the rifle strapped on his back. When he ran out of throwing knives, he openly jumped on anyone who got in his way. He did not hold back, being quick to send his opponents staggering backwards and crashing into walls or doors. His objective was clear - to create a diversion, a way to distract attention from you and put an end to the torment you must have been going through.

He didn't even bother to check if the door was unlocked before kicking it to the ground, unaware of the splinters that lodged themselves into his gear. When he registered the lower half of your limp body, beaten and bruised, he saw red. Dropping his rifle to the ground, he let out a feral growl as he launched himself at the man standing in the middle of the room, who was staring at him wide-eyed, fumbling with the safety of the gun he was holding. Blow after blow rained upon him, each strike being filled with a mix of madness and rage that Ghost had struggled to contain within himself throughout the day. The Russian, unable to defend himself from Ghost's fury, was crouched in a fetal position, whimpering and sobbing, just like you did hours ago, yet Simon's assault did not seem to falter. He was determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what you've been put through.

Until he realised that there was no other movement in the room, that you hadn't crept up to him and assured him you were fine like he secretly hoped you would. He was almost scared to look in the direction of your still-limp body, his blood running cold at the sight of you leaning against the edge of a water basin, your head still submerged in the water.

Simon had often fantasized about what kissing you for the first time would be like. It was a small comfort he liked to indulge in whenever he would try to go to bed and sleep wouldn't find him. Where would you be, how would your lips feel when pressed against his? Would it be gentle, or wild and passionate? What would you say to him afterwards? Would you regret or do it again in the following moments?

He definitely did not expect your first intimate contact to be on the cold, hard floor of the torture room, with your lifeless body hanging limp in his arms. He ripped his gloves away from his hands, searching for your pulse with trembling fingers and the relief he felt upon feeling an irregular, yet faint heartbeat, had him peel the mask from his face and discard it on the floor. Without wasting a second, he tilted your head back gently and sealed his chapped lips against yours, trying his best to breathe life into your still body. Your skin was cold against his fingers and he could almost feel his heart stop beating when he realised your condition was not improving.

Ghost was not a religious man, yet he started to recite the only prayer his mother ever taught him when he pressed his hands against your chest and started the compressions. Hot tears started rolling down his cheeks as he counted the compressions, lips trembling as he kept chanting your name again and again, urging you to open your eyes and wake up.

A choked sob left his mouth when you gasped and started coughing, your body twitching against your will. He was quick to roll you onto your side, gently patting your back in an attempt to help you expel the water lodged in your throat. His vision was still clouded from the tears, but that did not stop him from cradling your shaking figure in his arms, resting his head atop yours. He could feel your erratic breathing and your heartwrenching sobs, but all he could do was hug you tighter and try to reassure you, even though his voice was breaking:

'It's alright. They won't be hurting you again… I'll keep you safe!"

You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you were convinced you had been so deprived of oxygen that you started hallucinating. Somehow, you were absolutely convinced it was Ghost who was holding you tight in his arms, your cheek being squished against a tactical vest that could only be his, judging by its specific scent. Yet the sight of a head of dirty blonde hair made you scrunch your forehead in confusion. Why was he not wearing his mask? Your eyesight was still too blurred to make out the features of the person who was holding you, but you could trace the contours of his face in your sleep, even though you could count on your fingers the number of times you had seen them before.

Breathing heavily, you lifted a shaky hand towards his face, scared that if you moved too suddenly, the spell would break and you would be once again pulled out of the basin and asked the generic set of questions you've been asked for the past half an hour. But when your fingers made contact with Simon's cheek, softly threading through his stubble and tracing the deep scar that almost split his lip in two, you let out a breath of relief, a warm wave of comfort washing over you. Your tired mind took note of the foreign voices that were mixed with Simon's reassuring whispers: there was someone repeatedly asking whether you were okay, someone talking over the radio and someone asking for med-evac. Yet the sudden commotion only made you nuzzle your head against Ghost's chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed your eyes to shut closed, the constant thought of finally being safe serving as a temporary balm to your wounds.

The base's hospital was no different in any of those regards, yet Simon had spent the last days inside its four walls, camped out on the armchair Price had arranged to be brought into your salon the moment you'd been transferred from the municipal hospital.

---

For someone who had spent a good part of his life in hospitals, Ghost hated them. He couldn't stand the pungent smell of chemicals or the hushed conversations that took place in the brightly lit corridors. The constant beeping of the monitoring devices would drive him insane and he detested the cheap food.

Ghost hated hospitals, but he hated being away from you even more.

So he had resorted to spending the last three days acting both as a makeshift nurse and a guard dog for any of the curious passers-by who would try and peek at the operator who had been captured by the enemy and survived torture. Soap, Gaz or Price would usually join him outside working hours, trying to make small talk or urging him to eat the take-out they bought him, but he would only leave your side for bathroom breaks and showers.

He spent the rest of the time next to your sleeping figure, lying still in the armchair and keeping his eyes glued to you. Every once in a while, he would zone out and find himself counting how many times your chest went up and down, totally unaware of the heart-rate monitor that was placed right next to him.

For the time being, Simon was grateful you'd been filled up with painkillers and still sleeping. He couldn't wait for you to wake up, but he wasn't mentally prepared for it: it wouldn't be like before when you fell asleep on him and woke up feeling slightly ashamed, but refreshed, a soft smile lighting up your face. This time, you would wake up to a body full of bruises and a new scar marking your face- and he had no idea what he could say to help you get through it.

Simon was not a man of words, so he decided to convey his feelings through actions and gestures. His moves were well-rehearsed as he emptied the glass of water he'd filled a couple of hours before and refilled it to the brim, placing it on a table next to your bed. His gloves had been long gone by the time he changed your blanket with a fresh and soft one that Soap had brought the last time he came in. After he ensured you were comfortably tucked in, Ghost busied himself with rearranging the flowers and the get-well-soon cards that had already been neatly arranged at the edge of your bed.

After there was nothing left for him to do, he eventually dragged the armchair close to your bedside, removing his mask with slow and weary movements. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes were a stark contrast against his pale complexion, and the stubble he'd neglected for the past few days threatened to turn into a full-grown beard. Yet that did not stop him from exposing his face in your presence, his tired mind arguing that perhaps the sight of him might pull you out of your head, at least temporarily.

A heavy sigh left his body as he laid his upper body on your bed, his head carefully resting on the top of your hand. Out of instinct, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of your palm, relishing in the warmth of the contact, and draped one arm against your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

Minutes passed and his eyes gradually fluttered closed, his soft breaths slowly mingling with yours. He would never admit it out loud, but especially after the events of the last mission, the sole way he could fall asleep was in your proximity, only finding solace in the warm feeling of your touch. It may have taken him a while, but he eventually came to the realisation that it was in your arms that he felt safe, where the turmoil and chaos of the outside could temporarily be forgotten. And he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it took.

---------------

more notes: do you guys would like a bonus part, say, an epilogue for this? I'm thinking of something like "the one where they finally get a bed" or something... let me know in the comments (or ask box if you'd like to remain anonymous)

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26, @wawuwe, @karagd13-blog, @rindulacre, @claibornc

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost fluff #task force 141 #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost

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