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#simon riley fluff
soapybutt17 · 17 hours
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The Ex and Why's
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Summary: No one knows much about Simon’s life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago.. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Ex Wife!Reader. John Price. Kate Laswell. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Word Count: 9,787 Chapter Warnings: Angst with Happy Ending. Miscommunication. Mention of Minor Character Deaths. Mention of Divorce. Life threatening Injuries. Mention of Simon's tragic past and trauma. Not edited (sorry!) AN: I can now sleep in peace. If you enjoyed it why not visit my mini celebration and post your own requests I can write just like this.
Masterlist || Request are Open || 500 Followers Celebration
When you had learned about this new job, one thing you had so gotten used to doing was letting Simon know about it. But not this time, something about letting him back into your life wasn’t something you should do anymore. You were no longer married to him by your own choice and no one else’s. So you know it was time to wear your big girl pants now and stopped letting him know about it.
You no longer had any reason to give your ex-husband any updates about your life. A more selfish reason was how you just wanted to start a new life, away from him and away from anything that was related to him.
“Ms. Riley?”
You turned smiling at the man that would now be your new boss. You learned his name to be John Price, a Captain.
Being married to a man like Simon Riley once upon a time, you know some thing or two about what goes on inside of a military base. Even when he hasn’t talked much about it with you during your relationship or if he even gone as far as mention your existence to the people he had once worked with. You chalked it up to overprotectiveness and fear that they would get to you, and some night thing that he was simply embarrassed about you. Maybe it’s another reason why you had opted out of telling him about this new job of yours.
“Captain Price, it’s good to finally meet you.” You firmly shook the man’s hand. A good first impression was the best thing for you to do if it meant making sure you work for the man for the foreseeable future.
“Likewise, Laswell as spoke great things about you and I’m hoping to be able to experience it firsthand.”
You nodded with a smile. Working for Kate’s wife for nearly a few years beforehand, you had appreciated the suggestion for this new role as a secretary for the Captain ever since your divorce. She had understood you needed this change in pace in your life and this was much of a welcome change.
“I do hope it’s all good things.” You quipped right back earning a deep resonating chuckle from the older man.
“Well I think now that introductions as over and done with, let me show you to my office. I do hope you’re up for dealing with a handful of documents for me on your first day.”
“More than happy to.” You beamed following the man, his larger hand holding onto the small of your back as you began your journey into the heart of the base.
All throughout the walk, he was giving your directions to where most things were. You were warned how some men could be rowdy at time and he was more than happy to help in the off chance that any of his men would give you problems.
All you could do was smile, not wanting him to know that you were more than well equipped to punch or kick anyone that would get too handsy with you. One of the perks of having an ex-husband working for the military.
He continued on with how things go around in the base. Schedules for meal time and the curfew in the event that you would be staying in the base overnight. He had also showed you to where your new room would be located in.
“You would be a few rooms away from my own as well as the Lieutenant and Sergeants that I trust most. In the event that I’m unavailable, they will be more than willing to lend you a hand if you need it.”
You nodded before you finally arrived in his office. Opening the door for you, you were greeted with a spacious office. Even in the chaos of the military base, the man’s office was pristine, a few knick knacks and photos that littered his walls, as well as a bookshelf that housed an array of military strategies books. But the most alarming thing about his office was the other table that housed stack upon stacks of folders, papers practically spilling out from each and every single one of them.
“I may or may not have underestimated the help I truly need in this situation.” The Captain said sheepishly as you began opening the folders and gasped that most of them weren’t even ordered correctly even with the page numbers printed on them.
“I think I can manage this.” You blinked hoping you didn’t bite more than you could chew in this moment.
For the next few hours, your time was spent removing staplers upon staplers from the papers for each and every single one of the folders while you were inquiring to John the calls you would be fielding for him from now on and how he would want you to deal with it.
You had learned so much about the man in the few hours being in the same room as him. He was a man that wanted to ensure the safety of the world, even if it meant bloodying his hands up a little just to make sure of it. It showed with some of the missions reports that you may or may not have accidentally read too much into. You’ve also learned how much he hated talking to upper ranking officials if not needed, he was a man that hated authority yet he was working in the field that he was in right now from the way his comments about letting calls from upper ranks go to voice mail if possible.
“Will there be anything or anyone that I should be worried about for now?” You inquired making sure that you did not stir anyone in the wrong way if possible.
“I’m sure Laswell has told you enough to understand our work. Some men are more scarred than sane and if possible, I want you to make sure that you do not give anyone the wrong impression if possible.”
You know what he was implying and with your own experience you know far too well that getting yourself involved with another man in uniform would lead into.
“I’ve done my fair share, Captain. I don’t think that would be much of a problem with me.” You reassured him.
“Laswell told me you were divorced.” He began, huh, who would have thought the man would be the gossiping type.
“It’s been a few years,” You shrugged attention solely on rearranging the files at hand. “It took months before my ex-husband signed the papers, I wanted to think it was because he was deployed but I knew otherwise.” You muttered.
When you had made the decision to finally break things off with Simon, it was like pulling teeth with the man and his near avoidance about the discussion or where you would be sending the divorce papers. You had enough of it, leaving the home you once shared instead with everything you owned and left nothing more of you than the divorce papers alongside the wedding ring and engagement ring he had given you all those years ago.
“He was military too?”
“Something like that.” You nodded not wanting to think too much about the man. Even after everything, you still worried about you giving the man too much information in the event that he works for the opposing side if the chance may have it.
“Well his lost is my gain.” He snorts turning his attention back to the freshly arranged folders courtesy of you that were now ready for his signature. “No offense.”
“None taken, Captain.”
Eventually the man had excused himself for a meeting and had instructed you that no one would be allowed inside aside from him. He had also reminded you about lunch which you could head on out first or you could join him once his meeting was done. You’ve decided it would be best to join him for lunch for now, just to get a feeling of anyone that you would get into contact with on your first day.
With a quick goodbye, you were left on your own and you all but groaned at the folders still stacked up and yet to be touched. It truly made you wonder how the man could be so good in his job yet be so horrible with his paperwork. You will never understand.
Your eyes fixated for a moment on one of the pictures on the wall. It was your boss with three individuals. A blue eyed man with a horrible cut Mohawk but the biggest beaming smile on his face, his arm wrapped around a much younger man with darker skin but a bright eyes that twinkled with happiness for whatever was going on when the photo was taken. But amongst the camaraderie and enjoyment was a man in a skull balaclava mask that had such an empty but somehow familiar eyes, the man stuck out like a sore thumb even with the Captain’s hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder and beaming smile and a cigar between his lips. It was an odd mix of people but it was like family—it made you miss Simon for a moment before your attention got right back to the paperworks.
You can’t think of him now. Not anymore.
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After the events of Las Almas, Simon Riley had truly fought the urge to call you, to tell you how much you mean the world to him and how he was now more than willing to give you the compromise you had always longed from him. But a part of him, the bigger and much darker part of him had refused, slamming his own phone onto the wall in the sheer anger of everything that had occurred in the moment. You had made your choice because of his own action and he would be cruel to take that away from you.
“Heard Cap had a new Secretary, old man’s gonna finally keep his paperworks in check now.” Soap had ruining Simon’s sulking in the cafeteria.
It’s been a grueling few days. With new recruits he was forced to deal with in the morning and nightmares that you no longer could vanish for him at night. His life was nothing more than misery personified and he has no one else to blame but himself.
“Can’t say I’m surprise. Laswell probably set it up for him.” Simon muttered being more than within earshot when he heard both Laswell and Price arguing about the man’s need for necessary help with files. It was Laswell’s decision above anything else, it’s just a matter of time if the secretary would actually last with how everything goes around here in the base.
“Still, hope we’ll have a new bonnie around. Getting sick and tired of seeing Bampots all around.”
Simon didn’t even had the energy to question the man’s slangs, his attention solely back on his cup of tea and lunch—how horrible it was compared to your cup and cooking, but he never truly appreciated it until it was gone. His tea was too bitter even with the sugar and cream he added and the food that didn’t have the special kick compared to your own cooking. Even years after the divorce he was still so miserable without you in his life.
“Steamin Jesus.”
Simon could practically hear Soap melt from where he sat in front of him, his eyes directed at whoever was behind Simon. His curiosity got the better of him and his head turned and he was welcomed with the last person he would have ever believed to be walking besides one John Price.
“Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.” Soap pointed out breaking Simon from his trance.
“English, MacTavish.”
“You look a lil’ pale, Lt. Like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”
Simon could have at this point. As you walked besides Price towards the table he sat in. He noticed how unaware you were even at the sight of him only for him to realize that you had never seen him with his mask on, or in anything that has to do with his line of work—until now.
“Right, I think it’s time to introduce this lovely lass.” Price cleared his throat but he should have known by now that both Simon and Soap’s attention were already on them both. “This is Y/N Riley, my new secretary.”
Simon’s brows rose at that little tidbit. You still had his last name. He understood to a degree why you did so—your family that you had long cut off from your life after what they had done to you, but after everything that had happened between the two of you he wouldn’t have expect you to choose the lesser of two evils—being his last name.
“Riley? She a sister or wife to you, Lt?” Soap’s quick remark earned him a glare from Simon before his attention was back to you, how your brows furrowed before your eyes finally widen in realization.
“Purely coincidence.” Simon muttered.
“This is Sgt. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish and Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley.” Price introduced almost realizing at this point the similarity of the last name you both shared in this moment.
“Nice to meet you two.” You smiled, quickly to compose yourself and shaking both men’s hand.
Even with the glove Simon wore, he could still feel the all too familiar electric shock of your touch against his own. He looked at you how easy your eyes dilated at his touch. It scared him still how you had so much of an effect on him even after the years apart from each other.
As you and Price excused yourselves to get lunch, it left Simon wondering if this was the world finally punishing him for everything he has done in his cruel life. Give him the very thing he had wanted the most only to pull it away at every instance.
“Bloody fucking hell.”
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It’s been two weeks since you’ve began your new job as Captain John Price’s secretary. Two weeks since you had tried and succeeded in making sure you had avoided the man known in the base as Ghost—or to you, simply known as Simon Riley, your ex-husband. Every single instance that you were both placed in the same room (mostly in Price’s office), you both acted like you didn’t know each other, it was hard knowing just how close the man was after so long of a separation from each other.
But as much of an avoidance you’ve made for the Lieutenant, the same could not be said for the two Sergeants that had been dead set in making themselves both your companion while in the base but as well as your guard dogs from the ballsy few that would dare ask you out on a date. You appreciated the effort as much as it was not needed knowing it earned a dangerous glare from your ex in the process.
���Looks like you’re right at home.”
You jerked your head up from the files you were arranging at the voice of an all too familiar woman. A smile rested on your face at the sight of one Kate Laswell, your former boss’ wife.
“Kate.” You smiled an exhausted sigh escaping your lips at the sight of the woman. Both her and her wife had been the pair that knew what you had been through since your divorce and she was one of the two people that saw behind the façade you had decided to show the world.
“How are you holding up?” She inquired.
“Doing better.” You assured her. “Just a slight problem but nothing I can’t deal with now.”
“Oh no. Is your ex-husband bothering you again? I told you to just say the name and I’ll find some dirt on him in a heartbeat.”
You chuckled, knowing how that would be close to impossible with the man’s stand and rank in the Taskforce.
“Simon Riley.” You said instead and watched the way her eyes widen upon realization.
“Why did I not put two and two together?” She snorted realizing the small misjudgment on her part. “Does John know?”
You shook your head. You didn’t know how, but in the weeks of working at the base, you had been successful enough not to let the small detail spill. It was for both of your sakes and you feared that if you told the man, you would be fired and not him, not that you would want him to choose between the two of you.
“It would be a shame if John couldn’t keep you working for him because of your past with Ghost. I’m actually able to see his files being sent to me on time for once and he’s less stress in this past week for once.”
You blushed, knowing that that was a compliment, something that was rarely spoken by one Kate Laswell in the years of working for her wife.
“I genuinely don’t want to go either.” You spoke honestly. “Even with the situation.”
“Will you keep the information to yourself for now?” She inquired. “What does Ghost think of this?”
“I haven’t talk to him since I’ve gotten here.” You spoke honestly. “And I think it would be better if don’t talk to him about it either.”
“Talk to who about?”
Both of you had jerked your head towards the owner of the voice and it was Price with your husband, Soap, and Gaz in tow. You looked panicked at Kate hoping she could help you out this predicament with the man in the very room with them.
“My wife’s been asking how she’s been holding up since the divorce and if she’s gotten around to talking to her ex.” Kate brushed off and you wanted to face palm yourself, not the answer you were hoping for her to give.
“Wait you were married?” Gaz piped in with surprise.
“Was.” You corrected, eyes glancing towards Simon for a moment before turning your attention right back to the younger man. “But it’s nothing to worry about, you know how Kate’s wife is.” You tried your best to reassure everyone.
“Well that bloke lost something good that’s for sure.” Soap quipped right back with a flirty wink. You’ve learned this was the default with the man. “Right Lt?”
Both you and Kate found yourself looking at the man and it somehow clicked to him that you both were now more than aware of the currently predicament that fell before you and without another word left the office, slamming the door behind him.
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To this very day, Simon still can’t understand why he had signed those papers. Why didn’t he just talk with you and made a compromise. Instead he became an asshole that avoided any forms of communications with you until he was left with no other choice but divorce papers waiting for him at home and every single trace of you no longer in the home you two once shared.
In the deepest depths of his bedside drawer was the divorce papers that officially separated him from you, the two ring boxes that housed his wedding ring and the engagement ring he had bought for you. Around his neck, alongside his Dog tag was your wedding ring—the same wedding ring you had left on top of the coffee table of your home, with the divorce papers right under it.
It was his fears that finally came to life and he truly didn’t know why his body automatically signed without even reaching out to you first. To this day, in the years that has passed he still wonder what his life and relationship could be if he fought for your marriage.
Would he still be married to you right now? Would the two of you finally have the family you had always wanted? Maybe by now your first kid would have been three, he had always dreamed of having a daughter. A darling little girl that was a spitting image of you, a daughter he would protect with his life over and over again.
That could have been his life, but he was far too stupid for his own good. He was too much of a bastard that ruins everything good that comes into his life. He pays the price every single night he comes home to his apartment—empty and lacked the warmth that only you could ever give to someone like him.
He made his bed and he was sleeping in tears because of it.
“There he is, good you’ve got your arse here, LT.”
Another one of the mistakes he seems to be making in his life was joining the rest of the team in the pub and realizing that you have come to join them this time around.
Bloody fucking hell you were as beautiful as the first day he had ever laid eyes on you. There was the twinkle in your eyes he had once thought he had diminished as you continued on with whatever conversation you were having with Gaz with Price listening on. You had on your favorite red crepe dress that slightly showed some cleavage but not enough to be indecent, with your favorite locket that he had brought for you while you were still dating, and the first ever expensive Cartier watch you had brought for yourself (which Simon would have more than willingly bought for you if you allowed it) while saving up your checks.
Fate was nothing but a cruel sick man for giving this sight of you in front of him and never allowing him the taste he always craved. A gift that wasn’t his to accept—anymore.
“You know how traffic is, Johnny.” He muttered finding himself sitting beside the man and in the process finding himself sitting right in front of you in the process.
“Bullshit,” Soap snorted. “Stopped by a bonnie we didn’t know about?”
Simon glanced towards you, the momentary hurt that passed through your eyes before you continued on with your conversation with Gaz, now hearing you were both talking about your Uni days and how you found yourself involved with working for Laswell’s wife all those years ago.
“Don’t have the time nor the energy for another headache in my life.” He spoke realizing that it was the wrong thing to say with you in front of him. He could have said it if you were not here, but not in your presence, it diminishes every single thing he had ever had with you.
It wasn’t what he meant but he couldn’t truly take it back.
“I can second that.” You spoke finally meeting his eyes this time. An unrecognizable look in your eyes as you stared right at him. “And this is coming from someone that’s already made a mistake of ever getting married to a man in the military.”
This has opened the floodgate for everyone in the table to question you about your apparent divorce. He had no one else to blame for this than himself. He listened in now as you continued on answering questions about your relationship with him and the eventual divorce, but made sure it was vague enough not to have fingers pointed at him.
“So, you loved the man more than life itself and all that, why divorce?” Soap had asked the million dollar question.
“It’s gets tiresome to love someone that doesn’t want to help himself.” You spoke honestly. “Year of trying to understand him, only to push shoved away over and over again, it hurts and it gets tiresome. I just had to go before the love turns to hate.”
In the years since the divorce, there was never closure between the two of you. The forms of communications that you both had were mostly about him being deployed again or of you and your plans of moving around or changing careers. Never did either of you had the much needed closure that you both deserved—until now, not directed at him.
“If any of you ever attempt getting involved with a guy or girl make sure you’re serious about the relationship a hundred percent, not fifty, not seventy-five, not even fucking ninety. Because that small fraction you’re not giving them might be the very reason why everything falls apart.”
Simon finds himself blinking at the words that now escaped your lips. The downright resentment that still lingered in your tongue even after everything that had occurred between the two of you. He shouldn’t have signed those fucking divorce papers.
Marriage Counseling, they should have had marriage counselling like you had begged from him all those years ago.
He stood, excusing himself to order the next round of drinks. He doesn’t have it in him anymore to listen to your words cutting him to the very core.
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One of the biggest mistake about accepting Price’s offer of going out with the rest of the team for a quick drink was forgetting your non-existing alcohol tolerance. As the drink was now swimming through your blood stream, your lips become looser and there were few moments were you had almost spilled the fact that your ex-husband just happens to be sitting in front of you in the table you shared with the rest of 141.
“You sure you’ll be alright to head home on your own?” Your boss has inquired the moment it was announced the pub was closing up for the early morning.
You nodded with a smile, but the warmth that you were certain painted your skin and the dazed eyes, you were all too sure that it would be a big mistake for you to do. Go knows how dangerous it would be for a drunk like you to head home all on your own.
“I’ll take her home.” Simon announced and before you could protest, John had nodded agreeing that it would be the best thing to do and you couldn’t protest or show even a smidge of irritation as you were given a death glare by your ex-husband.
“Thank you for letting me join you guys.” You spoke towards your boss, the giggly duo of Soap and Gaz. “I’ll text once I get home.” You promised them following Simon out of the pub.
You took a deep breath as the cool morning air sobered you up for a moment as you waited for the man with his car. Frowning when you realized the man didn’t have his car with him but rather his death machine known as his motorcycle.
“Here.” He muttered practically shoving an all too familiar helmet towards you.
Like quick work, you had put on the helmet, ensuring to adjust the strap before the man does. You were still unprepared to be in close proximity with the man but here you were.
Watching him pull down the foot peg, he turned to you waiting for you to ride him—ride his motorcycle. With a deep breath you rode behind him, the skirt riding up your legs and he was quick to pull it down for your own decency before revving the engine on.
“Hold on tight.” He ordered and your body was on autopilot as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he sped off.
You know it was the alcohol but you find yourself smelling him, the all too familiar smell of his musk and cologne—the same cologne you had given him when he told you were promoted to Lieutenant. Your head rested on his back, cheek squished against the expansion of his back, feeling the way his back tense at your touch as it had the same effect for you feeling his warmth all over again.
“Where?” He questioned you as the bike halted at the stoplight.
You slurred your words, but you did your best to tell him directions to where your apartment was. Your sober self would have slapped you at the back of the head for letting Simon know about your whereabouts, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to know anymore.
For a moment as the winds blew against your cheeks, you were brought back to the memories of your time together. How you feared his driving and his bike more than anything else in the world but every single time he made sure you were at your safest with him, always did even in this moment.
You remembered the dates you would both have at night when he was at his most sleepless. By the park, your arms wrapped around him as his head rested on your shoulders. How you had carried so much of his nightmare even when you truly knew nothing but what he would let you know which wasn’t much and would only be in the instance that you would have accidentally heard during his nightmares.
You remembered how tired you were as much as you loved him, how much he had meant the world to you in that very moment but slowly but surely it wasn’t the same anymore. You felt the resentment before the anger for everything he wasn’t willing to give you. You gave him everything thing but he could barely give you anything in return.
“We’re here.” Simon announced, pulling away from him you turned and he was right. You were back in your apartment and you didn’t realize how fast time has flown since as you were deep in your thoughts.
Hopping down the bike with the man helping you, you turned to him and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself.
“Want to head inside—for coffee at least as a thank you?”
“I think coffee and a conversation would be the best thing for the both of us to do at this point in time, Love.”
You felt your pulse quicken as everything single thing you had talked about in the pub was coming back to bite you in the ass. Simon has his ulterior motive after all for wanting to escort you back home.
All you did was nod, heading to the door with the man following closely behind. You felt your hands shaking but you had succeeded in keying the door open. Opening the door for him, you walked further inside, opening the lights and toeing off the flats you had on.
You placed your wallet and keys on the coffee table and found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for the man to follow you.
You heard Simon close the door, the sound of the lock being turned and the sound of his leather jacket had you worried for what was to come.
“I fucking take you seriously with the bloody helmet still on your head.” He pointed out as he stood right in front of you, unclasping the helmet from your head and for the first time in a long time, you saw him up close and the way the darkness of his eye bags was the most prominent about him—it had gotten so much worse than when you were still married. Was it because of you?
“Sorry.” You mumbled as you watched him place the helmet on top of the coffee table alongside most of your things.
“Where’s the kitchen?”
You pointed towards you left and the man had made himself at him. The sound of cupboard being opened and the all too familiar muttering of horrible instant coffee you always wanted was heard. You wanted to let out a giggle but the sudden fear of the reality of your decision brought back something you never thought you would ever relive.
You sigh elbows digging onto your thighs, as your slumped your face into your hands. Why did you offer to have him here? Why did you accept the offer of him taking you back home? Why did you accept Kate’s offer of working for John? Why did you decide to divorce Simon?
In your own mini-panic attack, the smell of vanilla latte had you pulling away from your hands and you saw the cup of coffee already in the table and Simon was already sitting in front of you, without the surgical mask and without the figurative mask he was wearing at the base.
“Why are you doing this to me?” He questioned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of all the places you could work why the base?”
“It’s not like I knew you were working for Price.” You snort. “It was Kate that suggested I work there—a new environment for me after everything that happened.”
Kate had called it her own version of exposure therapy. You truly appreciated her help even after knowing your ex-husband was working there in the same vicinity as you.
“You could have left?”
You snort. Aside from everything that came with the military, the money was too good to leave—but that was not something you would want to discuss with Simon knowing his intent to still provide for you even with the ink on the divorce papers were still drying.
“Why would I? You and I have nothing between us.” You spoke, knife sharp as his own words of calling you a headache to him.
“What you said to the team is that the real reason why you filed for divorce?”
All you could do was nod.
“You could have talk to me that you weren’t happy anymore we could have made it work.”
“No you won’t, Si.” You shook your head, arms crossed against your chest, you feared the words that would be thrown between the two of you now especially at your state. “I would have made it work.”
“What do you want me to do then? What could I have done then? You say one thing but mean something else?”
“Because every single time I wanted you to open up to me, you closed yourself up even more!” You spat right at him now. “Do you know how hard it was for me to bare myself to you about the shit in my life and in my family only to be reciprocated with how your family was fucked up but not an explanation for it?”
“That’s none of your business.” His voice grows dark, it was a sensitive topic.
“Then why were we even married if it wasn’t my business?” Your voice growing louder now, exasperated by this conversation. “What was the use of our vows if you would keep the smallest things a secret from me?”
“It’s not fucking small!” He screamed right back at you and you instinctively flinched at his voice then. Why was he being so cruel to you now?
“When I married you, I accepted you for who you are, I accepted that you can’t truly tell me what your missions were about or about whatever details about your deployment were. But even just something, anything that would make me believe that I was something more than a whore you could fuck and a maid that would take care of the house and cook you fucking food would have been appreciated.”
“You were my wife, wasn’t that enough?”
“No it was not, Simon.” You spat. “You never made me feel like I was truly your wife when you shut yourself down after coming home to me. You weren’t the same man that I had accidentally spilled coffee on when we first met.”
“If you knew me for the things I’ve been through you wouldn’t look at me the same way.”
“And how would you know that?” You questioned him. “How could you think for me when you don’t even know what I would think of you after everything we’ve been through?”
“You want to know the truth?”
“Yes. Maybe that way I can finally move on from anything that has to do with you.”
You know that was the wrong thing to say as the man cracked his neck and began to talk. About his life, about the abuse he had to endure at the hands of his father. He began to talk about the new beginning of his life when his father died and everyone tried their best to recover. He told you of his mother that he loved more than anything else at that point, of his brother, of his sister-in-law, and of his young nephew Joseph.
He told you about how he was finally at peace with the trauma of his life back then before things gotten to hell and back. He told you of the man named Roba, he told you of the abuse he had to once again go through at the hands of Roba’s men, physically, mentally, and sexually. He told you why he hated confined spaced after being buried alive in a coffin with a man named Vernon, a rotten corpse that he had to use the jaw of to escape death.
He told you of the death of his family, of Marcus Washington killing his family. Killing his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew that didn’t deserve being involved in anything the mission was about. He told you how he had to burn the bodies of what was left of his family and his identity in the process. You learned then why he was called Ghost and what it had meant for him and his past that continued to haunt him.
You were left stunned, unable to form words about everything that has happened to your husband. But it was the fact that now everything about him made sense. All the little things about his personality of why he was the man that sat in front of you today. It all made sense and it scared you that he was right. How you truly didn’t know what to say or what to feel now that you’ve learned of his past that he tried so hard to hide from you.
“Happy?”
“Don’t be cruel, Simon.” You whispered now, the tears were slowly forming from your eyes now, you wanted to cry for him, to mourn the family that he had lost and for adding yourself into the pain he was now enduring.
“Cruel?” He laughed, no humor in his words, malice was more evident. “What’s cruel is you still using my last name and airing out our dirty laundry to the men I work with instead of talking to me first.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shook your head, stung by his words. He was right but you weren’t going to admit it right now. A small ounce of pride still clawing its way out of you. “And you know why I still used your last name.”
It was your family. You wanted to erase was little traces of your family remained. Even in the divorce, you always had it in mind to remain a Riley. It was better than having to be the ghost of your former self all over again.
He stood now, knowing it was all he needed to know. He walked away but somehow a lingering thought had you opening your lips all over again.
“Why didn’t you fight for me, Si? Why did you sign the papers back then if you truly didn’t want to break up?”
“Because no matter how much I loved and needed you in my life, I will always choose your happiness before my own.” He answered, opening the door and leaving.
The sound of his bike echoing as you were left to mourn the closure of your relationship with the man that had meant the world to you. With all the regret finally coming full force you were left knowing that you had broken the man more than he already was and there was no turning back from it anymore.
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It’s been well over a year now since you have been hired as Captain John Price’s secretary. Things were slowly but surely getting better for you and your career. Since the day you had talked with Simon, you wouldn’t say things between the two of you were getting better but you were civil with each other. You’ve interacted with him a few times, especially when it came to paper works but nothing more was said between the two of you.
Even with Price’s rule of not getting yourself involved with anyone in the team, it was becoming a mission for both Gaz and Soap to set you up with people on the base. Doctors or medics were somehow their number one target for you, but every single time, you find yourself relenting to just one date but never pushing for something more.
After knowing the truth about your ex, you didn’t have the heart to be so cruel to him more than you already were working in the base as him. Your free time away from base were spent with hobbies you had while still being married to Simon, baking and journaling, it was relief to be able to do it now with a new light was shed to the events of your marriage failing. You’ve also come to accept the offer of Kate’s wife’s therapist. It was a big help to be able to talk to someone else about everything you’ve been through.
You’ve learned to accept that you had your own mistake in the failure of your marriage just as much as Simon did. But your therapist has also come to mention that you needed to begin your own journey of healing from the what ifs of it, and live in the aftermath as painful as it was for you now.
“That dangerous?” You found yourself fearing for the worse at the conversation you were having with your boss as he explained to you the vague details of the upcoming mission him and the rest of the Task Force had for today.
With the chaos of prepping and planning, your boss was constantly on his feet and you were following him every step away for most of it to field calls and handle most of the paperworks to be sent out to sign and shipped to the higher ups. But to know a glimpse of what was happening and how your ex-husband would be involved in all of this worried you more than you would like to admit.
“It is what it is, if it meant a safer and better world, we would do it over and over again.” He explained.
“Just be careful, I still want to keep my job and I can’t if you’re dead, Boss.” You teased.
“Laswell can still be able to deal with you if I’m gone.” He retorted right back earning a quick laugh from you.
One thing that you had gotten so used to was his humor and how you had showcased your own as time went by working for the man. You appreciated him for being one of the two best bosses you had ever had in your career.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the mission?” You quipped right back.
“I should.” He chuckled standing right up in his full height. “Can you go check on the boys for me while I do?”
You could have refused, but a small part of you wanted to check up on Simon. Standing up, you had made your round, first stopping by Soap’s room to check up on him and notify him about the mission. Soap being the man that he was already suggesting you another man in the base beforehand.
“How about Micah? Pretty bloke that just joined the Medic team.” He began shoving the rest of his things into his duffle bag.
“Johnny, for the last time, I’m not into those pretty type you think I’m into.” You tried to indulge him in the conversation for now knowing it would ease him from the mission.
“What is your type so me and Gaz could actually find someone for you?” He pouted.
“Tall, blonde, dark and broody and with a heavy Manchester-accent.” You indulged him with description of the only man you actually loved.
“Why the fuck are you describing Ghost?” He snorts. “You got a thing for him? I thought you swore off anyone from the military?”
“Never said it was Ghost, Johnny.” You quipped right back. You hugged him and have him wrap his arms around you right back. “Be careful for me will you, I can’t live my life here in the base knowing you or Gaz aren’t here trying to set me up with anyone and everyone in the base including the married ones.”
“Hey we didn’t know Wilson was married.” He protested as he pulled away to look at you in offense.
“At this point I’ve already had dinner with half of the base, let’s keep it to a minimum when you get back. I might show you my ex so you can have an idea of what my type is.”
“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on top of the head before leaving to head to the meeting room.
You next stop was Gaz which wasn’t much of a journey with how close his room was to Soap’s. Knocking inside, you were immediately welcomed into the arms of Gaz. Unlike Soap that had been fixated with setting you up with someone in the base, Gaz was more focused on the next get together you could go to after the mission.
“I think me and Soap could convince Price to have a weekend in his vacation house in Cornwall.”
You nodded knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince Price if it meant helping the rest of the team with de-stressing and ensuring everyone has recovered mentally from the mission. But it also meant that you would be in charge of cooking knowing you and Price were the only ones that knew how to cook and you wanted your boss to actually have time to recover himself in the process.
“As long as you help me with grocery and prepping then you got a deal.” You winked pulling away from him with a smile already excited to bake them your famous apple pie they constantly beg you to make for them since the first time making it for them.
“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on the cheeks and just like Soap, finding himself heading out with his bag already at hand.
It now meant you had one last person you needed to stop by before the mission prep. You took your time somehow rehearsing what you could probably say to the man for his upcoming mission. You had your worry and you knew this was a dangerous mission.
Knocking on his door, you heard the gruff response from the other side of the door.
“Simon?” You called and immediately heard the door being unlocked.
You were faced with him wearing his skull balaclava mask. This was the side of him that you never gotten used to see but it was a part of him that you could never truly erase from him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked you allowing you to walk inside.
“Price told me to notify you about heading out for the mission.” You explained. “And I just—I just wanted to ask you to be careful on the mission.”
“Always.” He nodded.
A moment of silence has passed between the two of you before you were reminded of your therapist’s words. There was nothing wrong if you extended an olive branch to the man after everything was out in the open.
“After the mission, I would love to have you join us in Price’s cabin in Cornwall for a quick vacation too.” You added. “I know you’re busy with whatever you need to do to distress after a mission, but I would think it would be good to you if you joined. I can opts this one out if you’re more comfortable with that.”
“I’d go.” He nodded. “But I want you to join along and I want you to make me that lovely cheesecake you always make for me after I come home from deployment.”
You smiled knowing that it was always the same, a way to a man’s heart is always through his stomach.
“Anything else you want?” You asked wanting to give in to his all too simple request.
“And I want us to at least be friends, you’re part of the team now and they care for you and it wouldn’t do anyone good for us to act like we can’t stand each other.”
You nodded, heart aching a little at what he wanted. Friends. That was all he wanted and you would gladly compromise this time for him if that was what makes him truly happy.
“Friends.” You smiled, taking a hesitant step towards him for a hug but stopped mid movement as he pulled you right into his arms. The all too familiar warmth that consumed him.
“I wished things would have been different between the two of us.” He whispered kissing the top of your head. “I’d give you the world when I couldn’t give you myself fully.”
You closed your eyes wrapping your arms around his broad back.
“I wished I was strong enough for the two of us.” You whispered the tears slowly forming your eyes. “I wished I stayed a little longer for the two of us.”
“I never stopped loving you, Love. We might not be married anymore but you will be the only woman I will ever love truly with all my life and with all my soul.”
“You too, Si.” You whispered looking up at him allowing the tears to flow freely from your eyes now. “After everything that had happened between us, I will always love you.”
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It was the middle of the night when you heard the familiar ringtone of your old phone. The same phone that only Simon knew the number to. You blinked away the sleep as you pulled the phone right out of the bedside table.
An unfamiliar number took you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to not answer it thinking it might be a telemarketer—but something had pushed you to press the answer button and hear whoever was on the other line.
“Hello?” You whispered clearing your throat.
“Mrs. Riley?” The familiar voice of John had you tensing. You found yourself sitting up from the bed as he began to introduce himself and why he had called.
“What happened to Simon?” You questioned checking your bedside clock to see what time it was.
It was just past midnight, three weeks since they had left for their mission and this was the first time you had gotten any contact to any one of them.
“As of right now, we are not sure if he would make it through the night. If you want we could have you someone fetch you to see him.”
You felt your world still at the news. Just when things were finally moving into the right direction between you and Simon.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You assured hanging up and changing into some sweatshirt and sweatpants.
The travel to the now familiar base was a daze to you as you drove. You weren’t much of a religious person, but your lips did not stop moving as you prayed. You prayed that your husband would be alright, you bargained that you would make things right with him if it meant he would stay.
“Don’t leave me, Simon.” You whispered over and over again until you arrived to the base.
You had ignored most of the surprise that the soldier on duty had shown at your sudden appearance—the fact that you were in just your ratty clothes was also something you chose to ignore as you made a beeline to where the infirmary was.
Huddled in front of the door was your boss, John, Soap, and Gaz. Each and every single one of them injured in their own way—mostly superficial from the bandages that plastered all over their beaten faces.
“John.” You called having three heads turning to you in question. “How is he?” You questioned as the tears begin to fall from your eyes at the reality of the situation coming to crush you. “How is my husband?”
The realization washed over all of them, of the secret you and Simon had hidden from everyone. The weight was too much as you were wrapped in the arms of the family you had found yourself becoming a part of.
“Will he be alright?” You pleaded, holding onto John’s vest. “Please tell me he will be alright.” You begged falling to your knees in front of him.
“The doctors are doing their best, Love.” John reassured kneeling in front of you, wrapping you into his arms as you continued to sob. “But Simon took most of the impact from the explosion.”
The reality scared you so much. You tried you best to remember the last interaction you had with Simon, the hug, the promise of a new beginning, and everything else in between. It all came crashing down to this very point.
There was a very big chance that you will finally lose Simon and it scared you so much more than anything in this world. You couldn’t lose him, not like this, not when there was so much left between the two of you to make up for.
“He can’t leave me, John.” You whimpered. “He promised me he wouldn’t leave me like this.” You screamed at the top of your lungs.
You were made aware of the vows you had made to each other when you got married at the court house. Of how he had promised to the best of his abilities that he wouldn’t die in the line of duty before he could have the chance to retire. He promised you a family, he promised you the world, and he promised you your happiness. He was your family, he was your world, and he was your happiness that you realize only when it was too late.
For the next few weeks, the world around you had become blur. You were now much of a permanent fixture of the Taskforce’s base. Morning and the afternoon was spent still working for Price, especially with the piling number of paperworks the mission had caused and your nights were spent in the infirmary, watching over Simon that has yet to awake from his slumber.
When the doctors had given you the green light that you can see him—it took you hours before you did. Even after John, Soap, and Gaz had finished with their own visit, it took so much of what little strength you had to finally see him in his state.
Broken bones, laceration, head trauma, blood loss and amongst the other injuries that the doctors has informed you should have killed him but he was still alive even in his current state. He still had fight in him, he was still fighting to keep alive.
“I’ve come to realize that post-mission Price was a whole different breed of a grump, more than he usually is.” You began talking to your still unconscious ex.
The doctor had told you about him being able to hear your voice and you took the opportunity to talk his ear off with him unable to give his usual sarcastic comments or grunts as response. There were days you told him about your day at work, days where you told him about what you had been doing since you left your home and tried and failed to move on from him, and there were days where you apologized to him, regretting the divorce and everything else that been the reason for the demise of your marriage.
“I think since the divorce I’ve realized a lot of shit about us.” You sighed leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair. “If you wake up, I’ll try to do my best to convince you to take me back.” You mused arms crossed against your chest. “I know you don’t have as much of a happy memory after what happened to your family, but when you wake up, I want to make sure we make as much happy memories as we could together, I want you to tell me about what your Ma was like, what kind of brother Tommy was like, and how adorable Joseph was, I want all of that and more with you.”
You wiped away the tears that have yet to fall, you didn’t want to cry. You thought that you didn’t have any more tears to shed. The gravity of almost losing Simon was the wakeup call you needed and now it was nothing more than a waiting game until he wakes up.
“I fucking can’t be your friend, Si.” You admit. “I can’t be happy with just being your friend. I want you to be my husband again, Si. After almost losing you I know I can’t live knowing we haven’t fixed our relationship. I’ll do anything and everything to make it up to you, all the pain and hurt I’ve caused you.”
“Anything?”
You almost jumped from where you sat at the sight of the man whose eyes were now focused on you.
“Simon?”
“Am I just high or did you say what you did?”
“What?”
“That you would make up for everything?” He muttered groggily.
“I did.” You nodded blinking in disbelief that he was here, awake. Alive.
“Then marry me. Let me make it right this time, Love. I promise I’ll make it work, I’ll do my best to make you happy the way that you deserve.”
“Yes.” You answered almost immediately, finding yourself giggling about how ridiculous his second proposal was with his current state—but you didn’t want it any other way.
He requested for you to take his dog tag around his neck off and only then did you notice that your wedding ring enclosed around his necklace. Even with the years that passed, he still had it with him. The very same ring you two had brought together before you had headed to the courthouse for your marriage.
“Can I add another stipulation?” He held onto your free hand.
“Anything.” You smiled rubbing your hand against the callousness of his hand. “Anything to make it work, Si.”
“No more blind dates from the Sergeants.”
“They could never hold a candle to you, Simon.” You giggled leaning in for a kiss, the weight that rested on your shoulders slowly easing away.
You were home, you were back in the arms of Simon after all was said and done.
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dmitriene · 2 days
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thinking about retired simon riley who devoted the rest of his life to religion, his life is full of gnawing darkness that constantly suffocates him with it's cold hands at night, and the last straw that pushed him to leave for a monastery was the death of his close companion, his mate, johnny.
he had been to monasteries and churches before, only back then they were abandoned — dusty, with shards of multi colored glass from beautiful shattered vitrages, sparkling on the floor with defective drawings, because in war there is no place for beauty and no place for holy.
but they always soothed simon in the same way, a place where he didn't even want to speak, and where one of the many dusty benches kept his imprint where he sat.
arriving at the monastery just after he left the army, simon felt a sense of calm for the first time in his long life — no nightmares, no biting guilt that had always dwelt inside him and haunted him since his youth, only a pleasantly, tingling calm.
there was no longer any need to hide himself from the world behind a thick black cloth decorated with a skull, something that had been forgotten together with his past identity.
and then, simon met you.
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with a clear, shiny gaze, fluttering eyelashes through which you looked at him with sweet, polite smiles, not even knowing what you were doing to him.
all your attention, fleeting touches, and fragile apologies when you accidentally did something wrong, forbidden in relation to the monastery rules — left simon's heart beating even faster than during the shootouts in his past.
and he'd swear he'd never seen anyone more angelic, the sun's rays seemed to play on your skin, the dark fabric of your robe was fluttering at your feet, but you looked far more wonderful in the fabric of your light nightie in the middle of the night, sitting on the window of your monastic cell.
a temptation, which fell into his calloused hands.
with lips sweeter than the grapes from which the monastery made wine, with skin softer than any feathers and silk, with quiet giggles that you muffled behind your palm or against his mouth.
with your frail body on his lap, which he greedily outlined and clutched with his hands, locked with you in the library where your blushing body would be sprawled on a dark wooden table, dark robes pulled up to the curve of your waist so that simon could slot himself between your supple thighs.
could bury himself in your warm, sopping mound — nudge his meaty cockhead against your weeping entrance, bottom out slowly so the gooey walls of your sweet cunt could hug his dribbling cock and drown him in.
in monasteries, to abstain from sex is a necessity in order to reach enlightenment, but simon believes that by being balls deep inside of you, while listening to your melodious gasps and moans — he is more than enlightened.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.
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sketchyfandomgirl · 2 days
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I’m crying thinking about Simon being a good uncle to Joseph.
Thinking of Simon who’s watching cartoons with his little nephew until the wee hours of the morning, tucking him into bed after a long day of play.
Simon taking Joseph to the local park and being so engaged with him as he plays. Playing chase and being purposefully slow so Joseph can tag him, pushing him on the swing, and helicoptering over him as he plays on the monkey bars.
Joseph poking fun at his uncle for the silliest things and Simon playfully shoots back equally silly jokes til his belly hurts with laughter.
Simon, in the quiet of night after a long day of spending time with his nephew, wonders to himself if Joseph would like a few younger cousins. Cause now, he’s thinking about a few kiddos himself, if he finally decides to hang his beret up and find a nice partner.
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tfmerc · 16 hours
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okay what abt like a Simon and foster! kid reader? I'm currently writing one but I haven't seen a tone of people write abt this b4. Just curious
The idea of Fosterdad!Simon is so sweet :(
Just know he parades that kid around, showing them off to all the boys
read bellow cut :3
Simon let out a soft huff, sluggishly raising his hand towards his eyes; pinching softly at the bridge of his nose. He shifted slightly, lashes fluttering as he took in his surroundings. The plush of the couch, sunrise creeping through the closed blinds.
A heavy grunt passed his lips, kicking his feet over the edge of the couch. Bracing himself with his thighs, before he finally made his way to his feet; a string of cracking joints caused him to groan quietly. Slowly stumbling his way from the couch, he made his way towards your room; peering in through the ajar door.
He couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his lips, each rise and fall of your chest brought him great comfort. A living, breathing reminder that this was real. The fighting, suffering and loss was all worth it.
Simon slowly creeped into the room, footsteps light as a feather as makes his way towards your sleeping form; brows frowning softly. He sat down at the end of your bed, a tentative hand reaching to brush the stray strands of your hair away from your face. Watching with gentle eyes as you scrunched your nose and turned away from the ticklish touch.
You were perfect. Anything and everything you did was like that of an angel in your old man’s eyes.
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mar3ggiata · 2 days
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professional help, c7. Beware of the dog.
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simon riley x original character.
trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.
song to listen to when reading this: Dark red, Steve Lacy.
abstract: Simon. I don't fucking know what to say about this chapter, I was moving in autopilot. and I'm just being a decent fucking human being, what do you expect me to say really? just start reading already.
She took a look around. The men in the room were looking at her like she was gonna spontaneously combust and explode. Some of them had their lips pressed in a thin line. I'm sorry Jude, this is the part fo the movie where you die! Simon on her right was frowning, his eyebrows slightly peering through his mask. She started imagining if she just left right now. Took her dog, got to the airport and moved to Spain. The Maldives, maybe. She started a new life as a new person once at 18, she could do it again now seven years later. Or maybe she just needed to go home, smoke every little bit of weed she had left, curl up in bed and die. She started laughing. She had always thought her laugh was the most awful sound in the word. She started laughing, she looked psychotic. She hid her smile with her right hand through her head back. Her voice was the only sound in the room, ripping apart the air. It was a terrifying sight. Fuck me sideways. How could she be so stupid to get back to that job in the first place, after what happened in 2021. 'Oh God…' she sighed when she regained a little bit of control over her laughter which still lingered in the air like a distorted melody. She was still smiling. The first time he saw her smile, laugh even. It sounded real, she sounded genuinely delighted.
Simon decided he wanted nothing to do with her right in that moment. She scared him to death, who knew a woman could be this attractive and scary at the same time. Price seemed to think showing her the calendar wasn't a good idea after all and quickly took the piece of paper and pushed it to the side. 'Look Jude, we're gonna escort you home, it's gonna be fine, we're going to continue to look for him until we have to leave.' He was trying to calm her down and, frankly, she looked perfectly fine. She looked like she was at a dinner party with her favourite friends, a glass of Champaign in her hand, her eyes shining with little tears of joy from laughing too much. Except, she laughed because she was scared. 'I've seen this film before, captain', she said, her words sounded venomous. Her eyes were dark, filled with sorrow and regret. Something like this happened before, and the captain knew.
'No, I'm telling you, it will be fine.' Price was trying to convince her. 'Gentlemen, we have an early flight tomorrow, we're going to keep looking for Arash until we find something and we'll brief again at nine, tonight. If they know we're coming, things might get ugly.' Jude was no where to be found. Well, she was still in the room, but her smile left space to an expression of defeat, like she had accepted her fate. Her eyes didn't look as bright, she kept wiping the palm of her hands on her thighs. Simon had noticed. His eyes locked with the captain's and they understood each other. Take her away, this was the sign. He quickly turned towards her, slouching downwards to speak closer to her. 'Let's go Jude', he instructed. She didn't look up at him, keeping her eyes low, but made her way to the door. He was walking beside her matching her speed. 'Take your car, I'll follow you' he said, and she still didn't answer.
'Jude' he called and finally she looked at him 'What!?' She raised her voice. She was mad again. Like the first time he saw her, fists curled with rage, on the verge of tears. He tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could. 'It's alright, everything's going to be fine', he tried to talk to her like he would do in an hostage rescue situation. 'I'll get you home. I know how to do my job', he reassured. He thought knowing he knew what to do might make her feel better. She nodded and quickly walked to her car. He followed her car all the way to the city, trying not to lose her in traffic. She parked in a busy residential street and he quickly followed. When she got out she looked for him, and waited for him to get out of the truck. She trusted him. Not because he was someone special, but from what she'd gathered he was someone Price trusted, he was probably good at his job. And he seemed kind.
'This way' she said, making her way to her apartment. She gave him her keys, he made his way to the door and got his gun out of the holster. He then noticed the little sign on the side of the door. 'Beware of the dog'. 'You scared of dogs?' she asked quietly, appearing on his side like the angel on his shoulder. Under his shoulder, let's say. Now, was he afraid of dogs, no. Did he have the best relationship ever with animals? Focus, you have a job to do, kill the dragon, save the princess. 'Stay back'. He opened the door and peered through with his gun drawn. The only sound that came from inside was a loud bark and paws on the floor. The puppy greeted him by sniffing his feet, his tail was wiggling. Not much of a guard dog, was it a German Shepard? The lights were out in the apartment, Jude made her way inside and flicked them on. She looked around and everything seemed as she left it. 'Ciao, si ciao' she spoke to the dog, who was clearly excited to see her, whining and stomping his paws. Simon tried to remember the words she said, so he could guess her native language. Spanish?
He looked around her living room and kitchen. Her house resembled her personality. There were books scattered on the coffee table, at least 5 of them, an empty mug as well. Books and papers on the sofa as well, maybe she was studying something? Black big reading glasses, with huge lenses. There were posters on the walls, art he didn't recognise. Nothing much on the shelves, minimal decor. A tall lamp in the corner of the room. He noticed a polaroid picture with someone with short hair. So you do have a boyfriend… Her kitchen was clean. It was a nice kitchen, she didn't have a table but two stools under a kitchen isle which probably served as a counter too. It was connected to the wall. Again, folders and scattered papers, maybe work. The dog bed on the floor. A lot of plants, he didn't think they were fake. An ashtray next to the window. Smoker? 'Can I check the other rooms?' he asked. To be respectful, you know. She nodded and he made his way to her bedroom. The door was closed. He glanced around the room, he checked the toilet as well. The bed wasn't made. She had light blue bedding. The room smelled like her, like lavender. She had a stuffed animal on the bed, a sheep. She had fuzzy slippers, probably a size 5. On the wall, more posters. He noticed a painting of a scary dog's fangs. Books on the nightstand, books on the wooden window sill. He saw a bra hanging from a chair and that was his cue to leave. In the toilet, one single toothbrush. So… no boyfriend?
'All clear'. She was standing beside the door, her dog at her feet was licking her hand while she petted him lazily. 'Thanks' she offered him a smile, a tiny one. She looked more relaxed. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Until he couldn't hold it in any longer. 'What happened last year?' He saw her expression darken, her shoulders tense. Who do you think you are to ask like that? She straightened her back and let go of the dog. He remained at her feet, wanting attention. 'You should learn to mind your business.' She made her way to the kitchen. She passed by him and didn't make eye contact. 'You should have some respect when you talk to people’ he answered. He didn't have time for this. He was fucking stupid to think he could speak with her, actually acting like a 10 year old. The dog came closer to him and sniffed his shoes. 'You know where the door is.' She turned around and faced the sink. He could feel a switch in her voice, in her attitude. It was Jude and then Her, her real self, whoever she was. It was two different people. The girl saw kindly smiling at Gaz in the car wasn't the same girl that barged in their briefing room demanding they listen to her. Or maybe it was, maybe that was Jude, and the scared, damaged little thing that he took home a year prior was Her. He didn't know who. Jude was Ghost and She was Simon. Something very bad had happened back then. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, he wasn't meant to know, no matter how much he tried. She raised a wall in between them. She made the weather right outside the apartment turn to when it's about to rain. Thunderstorms and lighting kind of rain. And it was probably better this way. He turned around without saying a word, only careful not to let the dog out.
She started breathing again when he left. Her mouth was dry, she was sweating. She called the dog and gave him food. She lit a cigarette and sat by the window. She called in the dance school, saying she had a fever. This way, she could stay inside all weekend. It took her forty minuted to stop shaking. Images from that day replayed in her mind at least once every three days now. She had gotten better, but that thingh wasn't really something you recover from. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night sweating and crying, feeling the blade of the knife on her skin. She had dreams she had died. She wished she never woke up for a long time. She had dreams about the way he touched her. The first five months after it happened she would bite her nails till the cuticles bled and not shower for days. Her own hands on her skin felt like his. The first time she talked to another human being was when she visited Salvo in San Francisco. She looked like a corpse. He was speechless and hated her for letting herself go like this. It wasn't just the eating and over exercise, which he knew were her preferred coping mechanisms. She had lost interest in living, in speaking, in watching movies, reading. Her career… He held her every night, they slept intertwined in his room, he was the first man that actually showed her respect. He was the first man she touched after that day, she hugged him and rested her head on his chest while he reminded her she was loved, she was important to him, she was alive. He would caress her hair when she woke up sweating and was patient with her when she wouldn't eat. This time was different, she was going to be fine. Even if Salvo wasn't there. Arash would not find her, the memories from last year would leave her alone. She would make it once again.
notes. translation: 'Ciao, si, ciao.' means 'hi, yes, hi.'
notes: Salvatore, i want a friend like you, KING. I am back, I'm sorry for the delay I got surgery done to my teeth??? Anyways, enjoy!!!
taglist:
@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess
@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut
@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight
@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me
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thetravelingtyper · 3 days
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Writers confident challenge! list your 5 writings you love the most! Reread them and tell yourself you are a gem to this world! and if you want, send this to the writers you like let them know how awesome they are! 💌
Thank you anon this took a minute! :D
1: Out From Twisting Pages - my longest work so far but my most beloved. This fic has helped me work out depression and trauma and is almost 2 years old! (Labyrinth Jareth x GN Reader)
2: Reaper - Second in my Spitfire Series. While the first is more popular I loved writing this. This developed my characteristic Soft! Simon (COD Simon x GN reader)
3: Our Shattered Heart - I loved this! I love the Smiths and still can't believe they led me to Writing Poly for the first time! I always reread this and enjoy it lol. (Cod 141 x GN reader)
4: Hypnogogic - A little untraditional as it is a poetry post but this I cried to while writing. (COD Simon x reader Angst)
5: On the Same Page series - I started then a little after getting my first library job! This fic helps me to relax. (COD Simon x Reader Bookshop Au (fem terms but not too many))
Thank you anon I hope this pleases you! It was fun exploring my writing
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chaosandmarigolds · 18 days
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Simon Riley! who isn't traditional in the gross way but in the he wants to protect you and make sure you don't feel like you have to provide for yourself, he wants to be a safety net, something to rely on
Simon Riley! Who made it a point to buy your dream house as soon as you were married,
Simon Riley! Who didn't expect houses to require so...much...work
"Baby! The water won't turn off?"
"The fuck you mean it won't turn off just-" Simon grumbled as he dropped the moving box and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the faucet and trying to pull it, only for it to come flying off. Leaving him dumbfounded and you a giggling disaster.
Simon Riley! Who likes handy man tasks as much as the next guy but the people at the store are beginning to know his name
Simon Riley! Who didn't have a dad to teach him some stuff like plumbing and whatnot so he calls Price
"Oi, Cap-"
"She came to her senses and ran away, yeah?"
"No...I need you to tell me ho' to turn off th' water."
Simon Riley! Who does know how much you love watching him do yard work but doesn't dwell because these godddamn weeds-
Simon Riley! Who loves nothing more than watching you paint the walls of the house, finds it like to be a scene of a movie and it would be a lie if the reality was much better than the cinema
Simon Riley! Who hates facebook because you would randomly send him across the city because you found an old China cabinet you thought would be perfect
Simon Riley! Who doesn't care how his buddies tease him about becoming a domestic civilian so soon, because he would happily fix a thousand houses if it meant a thousand more years with you
(Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah that's it <3 )
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ghostly-whiskey · 9 days
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simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.
and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.
bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.
your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.
you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.
again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!
and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:
p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.
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peaches-creek · 4 months
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“You are squishing me.”
“I’m afraid you will live.” He bluntly says.
Simon was currently draped across you on your shared bed, essentially pinning you to the mattress. His eyes were closed as his head lay on your chest. He just came home from a mission, only to start a new one: snuggle with his lovie AKA you. Lucky for you he stopped to take a shower. Anyways, here you were, glued to the mattress as Simon just breathes you in.
“Was it a tough one?” You ask.
“Always is rough when I can’t see you for a month.” He huffs.
“I’m sure you did a great job, Price told me last time I saw him that he always is proud of how hard you work, he tries to tell you but you don’t let him.”
“He’s a sap.” He says. You only laugh, turning your head to kiss his head.
“Well Mr. Riley, I say we call it a night.”
“Mrs. Riley, I have been waiting for you to say those words.” He grunts, lifting his hand up to pull the light switch off.
“I love you Simon, I’m glad you are home.”
“Me too, lovie, me too.”
He presses deeper into your chest, giving it a small kiss. You begin to rub his back and neck, putting the 6’3 military man to sleep just about instantly.
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victoryverse · 3 months
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simon can't get over the feel of how tight your cunt gets everytime he comes back from a mission. it's not been stretched in a while, your little fingers or toys are nothing in comparison to his fucking thick length.
"shit" he curses with every thrust, "how do you get so fucking tight every time? jesus christ. just squeezing me, aren't you?"
your mouth would be dropped open, pleasure and pain mixing together, your tight pussy opening up to take him in.
again and again, rough, full thrusts that make you run your nails down his back. he doesn't even react to the pain of that, too focused on opening you up for him.
"shit. gonna have to fuck this pretty cunt every day"
he smirks as he sees you gasp and writhe beneath him, too fucked out to reply.
"multiple times a day too, yeah?"
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truetogaia · 3 months
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just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.
he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.
“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”
he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.
“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”
cod masterlist
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yawnderu · 4 months
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''You're doing the thing!'' Your excited expression causes a small smile to tug at his lips, his warm hand pressing on the back of your head as he settles you down on his chest again.
''Don't know what you're talking about.'' He forces you to keep your head on his chest to stop you from seeing the way he's trying not to laugh, playing dumb.
''Go back to sleep, love. 'S making you delusional.'' You roll your eyes yet still decide to listen to him, letting your body relax and take in the warmth that comes from his bare body. You're about to drift off to sleep before you feel it against your cheek— his chest flexing, pecs tensing up and becoming more defined under his skin a few times until he releases the tension with a stifled chuckle as he feels you trying to look at him.
''You did it again!''
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bagofshinyrocks · 5 months
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Government name vs Military callsign
Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: none
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John Price
Government name.
Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.
“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”
Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.
“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”
“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”
He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.
“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”
When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.
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Simon Riley
Military callsign.
When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.
“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”
“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 
Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.
“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.
“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”
Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 
A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.
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Kyle Garrick
Government name.
He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.
“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”
Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.
If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?
“Kyle Ga-”
“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”
You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”
“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”
He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 
“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.
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John MacTavish
Military callsign.
He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.
Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.
“SOAP!”
Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.
“JOHNNY!”
“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.
“C’mere, c’mere.”
He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”
You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”
He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”
“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”
“You called me Soap.”
“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”
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Posted: 2023 Dec 10
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empresskylo · 5 months
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you can't convince me that simon doesn't swoon when you first start calling him by his first name.
like he's so used to being ghost to everyone. even back home, he doesn't have many people there anymore, no one to know him as simon. at most, it's the man at the local convenience store or his one nice neighbor in the apartment across from his who knows him as that. and on that rare occasion price says his real name, he feels human again.
but when he finally tells you his name, you instantly start using it instead of calling him ghost. the first time he hears it over comms, he gets this weird butterfly feeling in his stomach. he becomes so infatuated with the way you say his name.
he likes that you're the only one to call him that, just like he's the only one to call soap johnny. when someone else teases him, asking if they can call him simon too, he definitely grunts out a ‘i wouldn’t if i were you’
and whenever you call him si, he is reminded how much he fucking loves you. he gets so soft when you call him that. it's like reminding him he's not just a killer or a weapon of mass destruction. he's a person. he's your person. he's more than the mask.
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kissitbttr · 5 months
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flashing simon your titties in the middle of an argument
it’s the fourth time this week and he’s pretty much getting sick of your attitude.
whether it’s about the messy drawers, forgotten keys, not getting your fresh strawberries from the market and now, it’s about the new female recruit that seems to be enjoying flirting with your boyfriend and him not doing anything about it. of course you’re pissed! you’re allowed to.
“sweetheart” simon huffs out a sigh of annoyance, rubbing his hands all over his tired face. “for the fifth time… i wasn’t flirting with her”
a scoff escape your mouth. cocking one eyebrow while your arms are crossed over your chest. “i didn’t say you were. i said that bitch had her hands all over you and you didn’t do anything! she was batting her fake ass lashes at you too. jesus, her ass should got beat for that”
the sight of you getting pretty heated almost turned him on. almost. sure, you’re hot when you’re angry and usually he’d fuck you dumb to get that out of your system but this time? he’s far too exhausted.
“fuckin’ hell” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you know that’s not what happened. we were just talking.”
“i know what i saw-“
“don’t give me that!” simon exclaims, pointing his finger at you as he watches you give him a look of ‘oh you did not just do that’. “we were basically just talking, she was the new recruit. asking me about pointers.. and it was at the gala! what did you expect me to do?!”
you shrug casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “poke her eyes with a fork”
“my god-“ he has to cut himself off before releasing a heavy sigh. eyes shutting briefly, head tilts to the back as he silently prays to whoever up there to give him enough strength to deal with you. “that would be illegal.”
“for you, maybe. i’d do it if you weren’t in my way.”
“that’s crazy” he answers, earning a look from you. “i didn’t say you are crazy! christ, woman!”
rolling your eyes, you huff. maybe you are overreacting but the thing is? you don’t want him to win. because in your head, you’re always right.
“so, what? you’re just going to let other female recruits feel you up too, huh? grab your biceps, twirl their hair when they look at you or maybe hey! you’d let them grab your dick too.”
“you’re unbelievable”
“me?! you are—“
“no! okay, you know what?! doll, i love you... i do so please never doubt me, yeah? but you can’t keep doing this, alright?! it’s not healthy! and if you—w-wait, what are you doing? wha-“
you lift your shirt up to flash him your naked breasts so he can shut up. and it worked. obviously. now, his eyes aren’t even looking at you but at his second favorite thing—after you— your lips stretch into a smirk when you see him freeze. jaw hanging open slightly.
“a-and you c-can’t” he gulps, becoming a stuttering mess as he struggles to maintain an eye contact. “c-can’t—like—just—fuck! this is unfair! what was i saying?!”
oh yeah, now you’re taking the W
-
did this once with my ex and got fucked lol
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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months
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Simon Riley whose insomnia is so bad that when you first start sharing a bed together, he gets a wink of sleep. Not that he gets more than that any other night but still…
You’d be lying next to him, fast asleep, curled up in his arms. He’s almost there. Almost asleep. So close…
And then you shift. And he’s wide awake again. 
Staring down at your sleeping body that shifted an inch closer to him. That took him out of his beauty sleep. 
Almost. 
He could be asleep and you’d shift around a little, he’d still wake up and look over at you. Eyes narrowed to see if you were awake. 
When he’s asleep and you get up to grab something, he jolts awake as if on the battlefield, ready to rip a head off. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Gonna go get a glass of water…and maybe some sleeping pills for you,” you tease, heading to the kitchen. 
But when he finally does get used to sharing a bed and his insomnia lessens, be ready for his loud loud loud ass snores.
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