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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 7 months

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Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch. 6)

read the rest: masterlist

a/n: ch 6 is here!!!!! I'm taking a much needed break from studying and I thought, why not update tonight? I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do!

tag list: @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey @elle-writes-things @anotherrickinthewall @ghostlythots @dmitriene @xaestheticalien @urbimom @emily-roberts @lilpothoscuttings @teconkaals @danika1994 @lazybutsmexy

Ghost looked at the picture in his hand, Price’s words slowly filtering back into his consciousness.

“We’re still monitoring the threat, but it looks like this is going to be a bigger problem than we initially thought.”

“I thought we got the leader, though,” Ghost said, nodding his head towards the photo. But Price just shook his head.

“That’s not him.”

Silence filled the air as everyone contemplated this. Their mission all those months ago had been simple: wipe out the weapons bunker and quell the insurgent uprising. But those motherfuckers were proving a more serious problem than anyone could have imagined.

“Well, who the fuck is it then?” Gaz spoke up, putting his whiskey glass down.

“Frankly?” Price replied. “We don’t know. Intelligence is still gathering information, but it looks like they know we’re hot on their heels and now they’re in hiding.”

“What do we do?” Soap asked, hands clasping in front of him. A group of boisterous women walked past the group on their way out of the pub, clearly inebriated but enjoying their time. As they chit-chatted between themselves, Ghost’s eyes were drawn to the door they were walking towards, which was now open and letting in someone familiar.

He heard Price’s voice in the background, but the static buzz filling his ears at the sight of you drowned out his words. It was tunnel vision now, everything in the pub fading away as he watched you frantically make your way to the bar. You obviously hadn’t noticed him, taking a seat at the bar with your back to him and your body still as a statue. He felt an intense need to get out of the booth and go to you, as if you were a siren singing a beautiful song to lure him in. But he wasn’t ignorant to the company around him, so he hesitated.

He continued to watch you as you flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink, a shot of something he didn’t recognize.

The blessed burn of the tequila sliding down your throat was dangerous. You wanted to drink to forgot how fucking furious you were, how you could rip your ex-boyfriend’s head off his neck if you saw him right now.

It was one thing chasing you down the street and pretending like he was about to physically assault you, but sending you creepy photos he took of you through your window, and your mother’s home address as if he was threatening you with hurting her? That was a real new low, and maybe even grounds for you to look into getting a restraining order.

After the initial panic of the ordeal died down, you reasoned that the only person who could go this far to try to torment you would be the asshole ex. Who else would care enough to leave shit like that at your door? He was obviously trying to scare you, but that was the last thing you were feeling. Right now, you wanted to set his car on fire.

Before you realized how far you were going, the seventh shot of tequila was sitting in front of you. You brought the glass to your lips and once again tilted your head back. But this time, as the liquid coursed through your system, you felt your stomach twist more than you felt the buzz of the alcohol.

You slowly got up off the chair on unsteady feet, a hand grabbing a hold of the bar to anchor you as your saw the pub start to sway back and forth.

“God, I didn’t realize I drank this much,” you said to yourself, a small laugh escaping you as you heard your words blend together.

At this point, Ghost had silently watched you for the past half-hour, pretending to be an active participant in the conversation with his colleagues when all he could do was think about going to you. He wanted to see your eyes light up like they always did when you saw him, see the smile that your lips formed.

And the hesitation he was feeling when you came in disappeared when he saw you maneuvering yourself out of your spot on the barstool, coming to a stand with the grace of a newborn fawn.

That’s enough of that, then.

Without another thought, he was out of the booth and approaching you. The bar wasn’t particularly crowded, but Ghost’s towering presence was enough for people in his path to make way for him. His eyes hadn’t left your back since the moment you walked in, so he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you were here for a reason.

When he called out your name, it was loud enough to get through the fog in your brain. You turned your head towards the familiar voice, but you didn’t realize that the action would send the world around you spinning more than it already had. And since you were already wobbling around, that was enough to make you lose your balance.

A squeal left you as your body hit the pub floor with a thud, your hands reaching out and taking the brunt of the impact.

“Fucking hell,” you distantly heard in the background. You saw someone bend down in front of you, try to take your hands to get you off the floor. You heard them saying something to you, but you were frozen, glued to the floor and unwilling to move.

You looked up at the people around you, some of them looking back at you with concern, some not caring at all. And from this angle, everyone seemed like a giant. You wondered if this is what children felt like.

“Let’s get you home now,” that same voice came through.

“No,” you shook your head. You were going to stay here. “I don’t wanna go. This is nice. I want to sleep on the floor,”

“How ‘bout I take you home instead?”

“You wanna fuck me or something?” you said as you turned your head to look at the person bold enough to be propositioning you right now. And instantly you wished you’d just kept your mouth shut.

“Not right now.” Ghost chuckled and shook his head, getting closer to you with his arms out. You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion.

“What do you mean ‘not right now’?” you questioned.

“I mean, we need to get you back to the flat.”

Before you could say anything back, Ghost pulled your legs towards him and hooked his right arm under them, his other arm wrapping around your back and picking you up bridal style.

Instinctually, your arms wrapped around his neck. You looked up at that balaclava-clad face that you’d been seeing so much of lately. This close to him, you could make out his eyelashes which, much to your surprise, were blonde.

“You’re blonde!?” you practically yelled, the look of disbelief on your face making Ghost chuckle.

“I am,” he replied, not looking down at you as he made his way out of the pub.

“But…” you contemplated your words. “How?” Whatever. It’s the best you could think of right now.

“I don’t know, love” You felt him shrug. “It’s how I was born.”

As he walked down the street toward the flat, cold air enveloping him and sending a shiver down his spine, Ghost got an urge to look at you. It was the first time he’d ever been this physically close to you, and now that he had the chance, he wanted to memorize every detail of your face.

Everything he loved about you was mere inches away from him, and he wanted to be selfish and indulge in it.

He tried to focus on the sidewalk ahead, and not on how he could feel your eyes on him. So to distract himself, he decided to talk.

“How come you came into the pub?” he asked, genuinely curious to know if everything was okay.

You were silent for a second, and then you did something you would never do if you were sober: you rested your head on his shoulder, taking comfort in his warmth.

“It’s Ethan…” you closed your eyes, willing the anger to subside before you continued. “I think he’s threatening me. He sent me all these creepy photos and he found out where my mom lives. Which is weird because he knows that I don’t talk to her, so him threatening her isn’t going to send me into a tailspin.”

Ghost felt his own temper rising with each word coming out of your mouth. He knew he should’ve tracked the motherfucker down when he saw him chasing after you. But he didn’t even know the guy’s last name.

Granted, he could run a background check to find it out, but that would mean looking into you as well, and that’s a line Ghost wasn’t about to cross.

Unlike Ethan, it seems like, Ghost thought to himself.

“Regardless, I think he felt powerless after our breakup and now he’s tryna to take some of it back,” you continued.

“I’ll deal with him for you, if you’d like,” Ghost offered.

You let out a small laugh. “I appreciate that,” you replied as you moved your head to look at him. Your head was still spinning, but somehow you saw his face so clearly. “I’ll probably take you up on that soon.”

Ghost made the fatal error of looking down at you, your smile beaming up at him so innocently it almost made him fall over. He’d really only picked you up bridal style so you would get off the dirty pub floor, but now he was hoping he’d never have to put you down.

As quickly as he looked, he averted his eyes. You were doing dangerous, dangerous things to him without even knowing it. But he didn’t want to be the guy who crushed on his girl friend when all she wanted was a platonic relationship. Because if that’s all he could get from you, he would happily take the bits and pieces.

Besides, he could always use his line of work as an excuse to not be in a relationship, no less with a woman like you. You needed someone who would always be there for you, who wouldn’t run the risk of dying every time they went into work. You needed someone who could give you so much more than Ghost ever could.

Of course, he had decided this as soon as he had started feeling…something for you, because if he had you, and then lost you? He probably wouldn’t survive that.

As you both approached the entrance to your building, Ghost shifted you around in his arms, trying to reach his hands into his pocket to get the key out.

“You can put me down, you know,” you said gingerly, trying to make the retrieval of the key less complicated.

Ghost hesitated for a second but let you to your feet. He had already done more than enough; you could at least make it easier for him to open the damn door.

It was a task getting up the stairs to your flat, Ghost hovering behind you in case you fell again, and thank God he did or else you’d be lying at the bottom of the steps with your head split open.

When you both got inside the flat, there was a silent second where you didn’t know what to say to Ghost. You looked at him, and he looked at you, and then you wrapped your arms around his neck once again in a hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, feeling his arms come around your torso. You hugged him harder, and he hugged you back harder too.

But you didn’t let go, and you quietly took in the smell of his cologne mixed with a smell that was so distinctly him, and you wished so badly that you could taste his lips right now. Feel their softness against yours, hear him groan for you. Your felt flushed, your breathing growing deeper as you tried to settle the heat in your belly.

Ghost wasn’t ignorant to this, and his own body was starting to react the same way. But he knew you weren’t sober, and so nothing was happening tonight. He pulled away first, enough to almost make you weep at the loss of contact.

He wasn’t meeting your eyes, but you saw how his pupils were dilated. You saw the rise and fall of his chest with his harsh breaths. You took that as a small victory.

“Good night,” he said with a curt nod, stepping back so you could get past him to your room.

You brushed up close to him as you passed, throwing out a small ‘‘night’ in return, before disappearing into your room.

Ghost stood silently in that same spot until he heard your bedroom door click shut, and then he tore the balaclava off his face and dropped it, running a soothing hand through his hair to calm down. This was getting too real, but he loved that. He wanted that and he craved your touch again and Jesus Christ he wanted to fuck the shit out of you.

The first step to acceptance is admitting it to yourself, and now he had.

Ghost walked to the sofa and sat down, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he contemplated what to do. But then something on the coffee table grabbed his attention. He lifted his eyes to the papers strewn about, but they were pictures, of you. They were the pictures you’d been talking about; the ones Ethan had taken of you.

He grabbed the stack of papers, not wanting to see the contents, when he noticed a white sheet sticking out of a manila folder. It was blank besides an address typed on it, and a stamped logo on the top right corner. Ghost pulled the sheet out of the envelope and took a closer look at the ink, which depicted two serpents intertwined, one black and one green.

It looked familiar to him, and he wracked his brain for where he’d seen that inscription before. He thought hard, all the way back to previous missions, meetings at the base, training sessions. And then it clicked, and as soon as it did, Ghost was up and out of the door in a matter of seconds, car keys in his hand as he made his way back out the building.

He dialed Price’s number, who picked up after the first ring.

“Where’d you run off to, Riley?” Price joked in lieu of a greeting, but Ghost ignored him.

“The insurgents. I have a lead.”

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

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Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch.5)

read the rest: masterlist

tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey @elle-writes-things @anotherrickinthewall @ghostlythots @tomhardy41 @dmitriene @xaestheticalien

So, yeah. It didn’t hurt to come home to someone at the end of the day. Because that certain someone was currently on the phone, their shirtless back to you while they spoke in a hushed voice.

“Yes…I understand,” Ghost spoke softly, looking out the window at the quickly darkening sky. He was unaware that you’d returned and were standing completely dumbfounded at the door. You couldn’t put much energy into eavesdropping on his conversation because all your brain cells were melting one by one.

You didn’t mean to stare. Didn’t mean to trace over the scars on your roommate’s broad back with your eyes. But things happen.

“No, that shouldn’t be an issue. We took care of it.” Ghost continued speaking on the phone, and you continued to gaze like some madwoman who had a staring problem. It wasn’t until Maisie let out a small mewl for attention that Ghost was alerted to another presence in the flat.

With the agility of an athlete, he turned around, his brown eyes connecting with yours in an instant. His face was still hidden by the balaclava, so naturally, your eyes gravitated toward the exposed portion of his body.

But just for a second, because you realized Ghost was staring at you.

“You’re back,” was all you could manage to get out but even that was breathless enough to convince someone you’d just ran a marathon.

“And you brought a friend,” Ghost said, putting his phone in his pocket while grabbing his T-shirt from the chair. It took great effort not to scream at him to put the shirt down.

“Right,” you involuntarily let out a nervous chuckle. “Maisie. Thought I could use her company.”

You carefully watched as Ghost slid his toned arms through the T-shirt, before tugging it over his head. He maneuvered around his balaclava with the experience of someone who’d had to do it a thousand times over.

“She’s cute.” Ghost nodded towards the cat, his eyes not leaving yours. A heavy silence filled the air, Ghost noticing how flustered you’d become; barely holding eye contact or looking away from him altogether. Ghost didn’t usually like people’s eyes on him, but for some reason he hated that you were withholding yours from him.

“Y-yes. She is,” you nodded. You still refused to look at Ghost, and he was getting agitated at that fact.

“Everything alright?” His voice was grave, what you imagined he used at work with the people working under him.

You just nodded your head yes and proceeded to let Maisie down. She’d been patient in your arms thus far, and you wanted to let her explore the flat, familiarize herself with her new home.

“You’ve been gone longer than expected.” The shopping bags were getting heavy in your arms, so you bent down to relieve yourself of their weight. Ghost’s eyes followed your movements.

He then shook his head as you stood up straight. “There were some issues last minute.”

“Hmm,” you nodded your head, contemplating whether you should ask your next question or not. And then your mouth went ahead without your brain’s permission. “But you’re staying for a while now?”

Ghost smirked under his mask. “You want me to stay?”

You shrugged as if you didn’t care. “Doesn’t matter to me. I was just curious.”

“Right…” Ghost continued to look at you, trying to gauge your reaction, but you remained stoic and avoiding eye contact. “I don’t need to be back for another two weeks. Barring any complications.”

He tried not to smile as he saw your eyes faintly light up at his words.

“Okay.” You smiled small. “Glad to have you back.” A rush of excitement flowed through you at the thought of Ghost being home for some time. You liked it when he was around.

And though Ghost never felt like he had a place to call home, this new flat was starting to feel like it.

---

“Can you cut back on your hours then?” Ghost asked from his place on the barstool, nibbling at the piece of bacon you’d just put on his plate.

“I tried! But El and Roger just quit and now we’re having to pull double shifts just to cover them.”

Maisie sat quietly on the counter next to the sink, her eyes following you as you traipsed around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready.

A month had passed since Ghost moved in, the two of you falling into a simple routine whenever he was home. You made breakfast in the morning if you could, and he handled dinner. A balanced coexistence.

And the days he was home were enough to build a sort of comradery between the two of you.

“Then quit,” Ghost deadpanned, and you struggled to figure out if he was joking or not.

“And pray tell where I would find a job?” you huffed, cracking an egg onto the pan.

“I don’t know. You’ll find something.”

“No other restaurant job is going to pay as well as this one. I need to stick it out for another couple of months until I finish school.”

You only noticed Ghost had gotten up from the barstool when you felt his chest brush against your back as he walked to the fridge. An unsuspecting shiver ran down your spine at the contact.

And this didn’t go unnoticed by the man, though he kept quiet for the sake of keeping things civil.

It was a constant back and forth between the two of you. An unintentional soft touch on his arm that would make goosebumps spring up; an innocent whisper in your ear that would send the most delicious shiver down to your toes. Neither of you knew what game you were playing, but both of you suffered its consequences.

“Have you tried explaining your situation to her?” Ghost asked as he pulled the milk out of the fridge.

You looked over at him. “No…”

“Then how do you expect her to know that you’re not able to give time to your schoolwork?” He poured a dash of milk into his cup, his biceps flexing with the act. You couldn’t help but look for a second.

It was most definitely worth a try talking to your boss. But you cringed at the thought; you hated asking for favors.

Once indebted, always indebted. That’s what your mom used to tell you as she lay on the couch high out of her mind. The stench of the beer and the rotting food sitting next to her still lingered in your nose, even after eight years. You rarely ever thought about your childhood anymore, and blessed were the days you didn’t.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said after a couple minutes of silence. Ghost stood behind you, a cup of tea in his hands and his balaclava pulled up to his nose. He brought the mug to his lips and took a silent sip, nodding his head.

“Good.”

The coffee machine beeped, and without having to turn around, you felt Ghost at your back once again. His proximity brought the scent of his cologne with it, your eyes closing as the oak and cedarwood engulfed you. His arm extended past you as he pulled another mug out of the cabinet above your head, then returned to the coffee machine and poured out the liquid for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took it from him.

The craziness of life tend to get muted in his presence. Though he wasn’t much of a talker, he never failed to listen to you. And that’s all you needed…for someone to listen.

The morning went by just like any other. You and Ghost finished breakfast, he headed out to run some errands, and you stayed behind to catch up on work. It was your day off, and not a second would be wasted on arbitrary things.

As hour four came around, you were still cooped up on the couch, your computer on your lap, Maisie curled up next to you, and three open bags of chips laying around you. The words were beginning to blur in front of you, and your eyes drooped of their own accord, sleep starting to overtake…

A jarring knock on your front door woke you up, your eyes widening at the sudden noise. It couldn’t be Ghost because he had a key and no one was supposed to be coming over. So who the fuck was it?

You placed your laptop on the coffee table and slowly got up off the couch, stretching out your cramped muscles as you walked to the door. Looking through the peephole, you found an empty hallway.

You didn’t think much of it as you opened the door, but the manila folder that dropped at your feet was the beginning of your apprehension.

Before even touching the folder, you poked your head out of the doorframe, looking left and right to see if someone was still in the hallway, but it was empty. Skepticism etched its way onto your brain as you bent down, cautiously picking up the folder.

“What the fuck?” you said aloud. The package wasn’t addressed, but morbid curiosity forced your hand at opening the envelope.

In hindsight, you really should’ve waited for Ghost.

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

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Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch.4)

read ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.5

tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey @elle-writes-things @anotherrickinthewall

“Likin’ ya new place, L.t.?” Soap’s voice broke through the silence in Ghost’s office. Piles of papers stood high on his desk and his laptop was open to the notes from the most recent mission briefing. He was trying to focus on his work, knowing he’d have to go back out in a couple hours to continue training the new sergeants. But memories from last night followed him around like a lost puppy, begging for his attention.

“It was the first and last time I set foot in that store,” you said through fits of silent laughter, the words barely formulating on your tongue. Ghost couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way your face lit up with your laughter. He stared, memorizing the line of your plump lips, the gentle curvature of your nose, the way your lashes fell against your cheek when you closed your eyes.

The sound of amusement that left you was the sweetest damn song he’d ever heard, and he yearned to be the reason you made it.

“It’s fine,” Ghost said nonchalantly, not looking away from his laptop. It was more than fine, but he’d be damned if admitted that to the sergeant.

Soap remained standing at the door, his body leaning against the frame as he crossed his arms across his chest. Ghost could feel Soap’s eyes on him, and he shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“What?” Ghost snapped after thirty-seconds of silence, finally moving his gaze for a brief second over to the man standing at his doorway.

“Nothin’,” Soap shrugged. “Been awfully quite the las’ couple a days, that’s it.”

“Got nothing to talk about,” Ghost retaliated.

“Not even the beautiful lass you’re livin’ with?” Ghost’s eyes zoned in on Soap, a silent question as to how he knew what you looked like. “Got curious. Sam showed me a picture.”

“It’s none of your business, Sergeant,” Ghost clipped, returning his focus to the computer screen. He tried comprehending the words in front of him but just ended up reading the same sentence over and over again.

Soap, nosy as he was, walked further into the room and plopped himself onto the chair in front of Ghost’s desk.

“She’s a stunner, L.t.,” Soap interrupted.

A vein on Ghost’s forehead ticked, though Soap wasn’t able to see it. He knew you were pretty, but why was Soap so interested?

“Why the sudden interest?” Ghost questioned, a sliver of possession running down his spine. It was wholly unnecessary and completely out of the blue, but there was no point questioning it. Ghost had been feeling unwarranted feelings ever since the first time he talked to you over the phone.

“No reason.” Another shrug from the sergeant. “I gave yoo the number, is all. Feels like my responsibility if something goes wrong.”

Ghost scoffed. “I’m a grown man, Johnny. I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt,” Soap smiled. “So…is she nice?”

“She’s none of your business,” Ghost deadpanned. He tried hiding his annoyance, though he didn’t know if he was successful.

Soap chuckled, shaking his head slightly. He wasn’t gonna get anything out of him.

“Tight-lipped as ever,” the sergeant jested. “But that’s not what I came in ‘ere for.”

“Oh?” Ghost’s ears perked up.

“There’s trouble again. Insurgents in Al Mazrah.” Soap’s expression turned serious, all sentiments back to business. “Price wants a word.”

---

“But I thought we got all the weapon holds there,” Gaz asked, a quizzical look towards the Captain.

“I thought so, too,” Price said, hands on his hips as he paced back and forth. “But this one is underground. Practically impossible to sniff out.”

“Then how’d you find it?” Soap spoke up from where he was seated.

“We noticed multiple caravans, all taking different routes, end up at the same location deep within the desert.” All eyes in the room turned to the laptop from which Laswell spoke. Her stoic face betrayed no signs of urgency, but the tension in the room said otherwise. “Had our drones scout the area. Turns out there’s a bunker within the oasis.”

“Bloody hell,” Ghost murmured under his breath. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that the trouble with Hassan was over just because they killed him, but he was disappointed that they’d left such an important loose end undiscovered for so long.

“How the hell did we miss this?” Gaz stated, putting everyone’s unspoken thoughts to words.

“It’s easy to miss things like this. But that’s not what’s important right now.” Price grabbed the map sitting next to the laptop and spread it open on the table for the rest of the crew to see. “Dealing with the insurgents here…” he circled ‘Al Mazrah’. “And getting hold of the weapons bunker here,” he indicated to an obscure position somewhere in the desert next to the city. “These are our priorities.”

The next couple of hours were spent determining the plan of attack. Ghost and Soap were to head the team that would be responsible for dealing with the insurgents in the city, while Price and Gaz would attack the weapons hold.

And by morning, they were exiting the aircraft into humid, sand-filled air.

---

It’d been six days since Ghost had left for work, seven since the night of the dinner. You would replay bits and pieces of the night over again in your head, smiling at the memory of shared laughs and dry jokes.

He barely revealed anything about himself, letting out grunts or straight up not answering when you asked personal questions. You got the hint, realizing that the man valued his privacy more than anything, so you ended up regaling him with stories of your own life.

You had nothing to hide, but more than that, you didn’t feel the need to hide from Ghost.

It was nice to have someone who listened, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed whenever you were met with silence about his own past. Obviously, it’s not like you wanted him to tell you his deepest, darkest secrets. But maybe you were starting to think of him as a friend, and maybe it would be nice to know more about him besides the fact that he was in the military.

“Hi sweetheart,” Belinda said as you entered the shelter, shaking the snow off your boots. “How’ve you been?” The old lady stepped out from behind the counter and gave you a hug, rubbing a soothing hand on your back. You hugged her back, allowing yourself to take a little bit of comfort from her.

“I’m okay. I think,” you said, pulling away from the embrace and stuffing your hands in the pockets of your coat.

“You think?” Belinda shook her head as if that was unacceptable. “How come? That boy Ethan up to something again?”

You sighed, realizing you hadn’t visited the shelter since you and Ethan had broken up, so Belinda was none the wiser.

“Actually,” you began. “We’re not together anymore.” The words came with no feeling, as if you were telling the woman you had oatmeal for breakfast, and not that you’d ended things with your boyfriend of three years.

“What?” Belinda sat down on the wicker chair next to the door, patting the one next to her. You complied and sat down too. “What happened?”

You contemplated what to say. On the one hand, you could be honest and tell her Ethan had cheated. But on the other, that wasn’t a detail you were in the mood to hash out.

So you shrugged, averting your eyes from Belinda. “He was a jerk.”

“Oh hon.” The woman took your hand, running a gentle finger across the back of it. “It’s good you realized he wasn’t worth your time. Better single than raising a man-child.”

You chuckled, thinking to yourself that those words couldn’t be any truer.

“You wanna head back? We had a new litter of kittens dropped off here a week ago if you want to see them,” Belinda said.

“Of course I wanna see them.”

You were out of your chair and at the back of the shelter in a matter of minutes, petting the older cats you had already met and letting the new ones get accustomed to you. As you played with the little fur balls, a certain one caught your eye; sleek, black fur covering the top of its head while the rest was white as snow.

You gently took the cat into your arms, noticing how quiet and patient it was. Reminded you of a certain someone.

“That’s Maisie,” Belinda said as she walked past the curtains, a large bag of cat food in her arms.

You looked at Maisie, seeing her calmly watching you. “Hi Maisie. It’s nice to meet you,” you whispered. The cat raised a paw towards you, curiosity shining in her eyes. You brought your face closer as her paw grazed over your nose, then your cheek.

“She likes you.” Belinda was at the corner of the room, rationing out portions of cat food into bowls.

“Well, I think I like her too.”

“She’s all yours if you want her,” the older lady raised an eyebrow in question, a mischevious smirk on her face.

You looked back down at Maisie, trying to map out the pros and cons of adopting a cat right now.

“Oh, don’t think about it too much,” Belinda scolded. She left her spot and walked over to where you were seated on the floor next to the play pen. “She’ll be great company. Might even help you through your breakup.”

You didn’t tell her that you were very much over your cheating ex-boyfriend. But would it really hurt to have someone to come home to at the end of the day?

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

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Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch. 3)

read the rest: masterlist

tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey @elle-writes-things @anotherrickinthewall

“Sweets, it’s one drink at a shitty pub, not a fucking car.” Sydney handed her card over to the bartender to cover your beer as you considered plucking the plastic out of her hands and gently placing it back into her pocket.

“I’m fucking pathetic! I can’t even afford a beer anymore!” you shouted over the lively 6 p.m. chatter. The Hickory Lane Pub was a crowd favorite amongst the locals, and amongst you and your friends. Shitty establishment, but the vibes were never off, and the drinks were good. Plus, the owner’s son was an old friend of Sydney’s so he always gave her a discount on food.

“My love,” Sydney rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, looking at you dead in the eyes with the most serious expression on her face. “You have to give yourself a break. The last of your tip money is gonna go towards that shitty washing machine and you don’t get your paycheck until Friday.” The sincerest of smiles formed on your friend’s lips, pleading with you to understand. “You’re slowly figuring shit out, and you’re doing it well.”

You scoffed, realizing your own stupidity because Syd was right. You were finally getting back on track after everything was seemingly falling apart. Maybe it was time you took a break.

So you sat in your favorite pub with your best friend and enjoyed a couple of cold beers, your mind constantly wandering back to the man you’d left in your flat eleven hours ago. It wasn’t that you were avoiding him, or that you were uncomfortable being around him. No. You just didn’t know what to expect when you got back, and that made you a little nervous.

Would he be mad that you left this morning?

Would his things take up all the space in the living room?

Oh, God forbid you would have to move your garage sale chaise lounge into your room, a mocking voice in your head interjected your thoughts.

It was pointless being nervous when there was literally nothing you could do to change the circumstances now. You’d been the one who was all too pleased to let a stranger share a living space with you. Now you’d be the one to deal with the consequences.

At 6:33, you decided it was time to stop being a pussy and go back to your flat, so you quickly said goodbye to Sydney and then walked out into the still freezing December weather. Your pace quickened as you approached the Tesco, needing a minute of reprieve from the cold and a box of tampons. The last of the money in your checking account was gonna have to be enough to cover it.

You wandered into the store, heading to the back where you knew the tampons were located. It was supposed to be a quick in and out on your way home, but you were stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of a familiar head of moppy brown hair.

For a second, you stood frozen in time as you watched Ethan bend down to grab something from the bottom shelf, then stand up and throw it into his basket before sliding an arm around a girl’s waist. Whether it was fear or humiliation that immobilized you, you didn’t know, but your brain yelled at you to turn around and run away while your body forced you in place in the middle of the aisle.

The air around you buzzed as you watched Ethan’s head turn to look at you, surprise etching onto his face when he noticed who was standing before him. For a second, he stood frozen too, but when he dropped his arm from around the girl’s waist and started towards you, his lips forming words that your ears didn’t have the capacity to hear, you were finally able to move.

And move you did, doing a full 180 and speed-walking out of the Tesco like your ass was on fire. Fuck the tampons, you’d sooner shove the plastic applicator up there than share the same air as Ethan Campbell again.

In the distance, you heard Ethan’s voice yelling out your name, trying to get your attention, but you weren’t having any of it. Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this.

You maintained your speed as you walked home, although you did slow down the more your legs grew tired of the exercise. A couple glances behind you and it was becoming evident that Ethan had every intention of following you home. What the fuck was he doing?

You broke out into a run, feeling genuine fear for your safety as the man behind you continued to follow. Approaching your building, you took another peek behind you, noticing that Ethan had grown closer, but was now standing frozen.

You stopped as well, a fearsome anger building in your chest because of the entire ordeal, your lungs constricting with the effort it took to push a breath out. He had just scared the absolute living shit out of you, and for what? Just for a laugh?

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, asshole? Chasing a woman down just to give her a scare?” You were fully facing Ethan now, your back to the building door. You pulled your mace out of your pocket and kept you finger poised over the button in case the fucker tried something with you. “You pathetic, useless piece of shit! I dare you to fuck with me. I DARE YOU!” You were screaming at the top of your lungs, the words barely able to leave you, but you were fucking furious and not ready to back down.

Even from several feet away, you saw Ethan’s entire demeanor change. Where he was once confidently chasing you through the streets, he was now cowering away, slowly backing up until he turned around and just walked away in the other direction.

All that could really explain what just happened was the mace. You looked at it, then back at Ethan’s retreating form, a triumphant smile taking over your features.

“Was he bothering you?” a deep voice you recognized well broke the silence looming in the air. Your smile faded as you turned to face your flatmate.

Standing face-to-face with the chest of the 6’4 giant, his arms crossed over and his stance wide and ready to pounce, you noticed how immaculately built the guys was; like the Gods themselves had had their hand at sculpting his physique. You were never so shallow as to only ever care about a man’s physical appearance, but you were a woman. One who noticed a nice body here and there.

“How-” You cleared your suddenly dry throat, your heartbeat refusing to settle down to its regular pace. “How long have you been standing there?” you finished your question, voice coming out a touch breathless.

“’Bout a minute. Came down to throw away the trash,” Ghost pointed a thumb at the black trash bag sitting by the door. “Saw you running this way and a guy following you.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed under his balaclava, looking over at the man walking away.

You let out a sigh, the real reason why Ethan cowered away becoming clear.

Choosing to let go of the defeat you felt, you plastered a fake smile on your face. “Don’t worry about him. Just my ex,” you waved your hands through the air. But when Ghost turned his narrowed gaze onto you, you knew he didn’t believe your words.

“He go around chasin’ you often?” Ghost’s eyes roamed all over your face, as if picking it apart for any signs of an untruth. That simple perusal was making your body flush with a heat it hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Heh,” you let out a nervous chuckle, shifting your weight from one leg to another. “No…”

Ghost just grunted in response. “He’d be smart not to bother you again.”

His deep voice, smooth as whiskey, had not gone unnoticed last night, or this morning. It’s just that you had other things on your mind to worry about, so it wasn’t until now that you noticed how the timbre was making your heart flutter.

“I’ll do him the service of not telling him that,” you joked, trying to distract yourself from your body’s inappropriate reactions to a man who just trying to be a decent guy.

“Head inside,” Ghost said, picking up the trash bag next to him. “I’m gonna throw this out.” His voice was so assertive that you felt like you had to listen to his every command or face the consequences. This little dynamic between the two of you was jarring; you never let someone tell you what to do. But something inside made you want to listen to Ghost. To not disappoint him.

Strange.

As you made your way up the stairs, the hours from the day prior started catching up with you. Your feet ached, your back hurt, and you were getting a headache because you hadn’t eaten since lunch.

At least you had your leftovers to look forward to.

As soon as you turned the key in the lock and opened the front door, the aroma of something hit you square in the face. It smelled decedent and made your mouth water, your stomach grumbling even louder as you stepped into the flat and placed your purse on a chair. That’s also when you noticed that the stove was covered in pans and the counters were littered with vegetables and bottles of spices.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Ghost said as he entered through the front door, removing his shoes before closing the door and returning to the kitchen.

“You’re making food.” You said it as statement more than a question because something about seeing a hot man in the kitchen making dinner was messing with the wires in your brain.

“Steak and mashed potatoes,” Ghost confirmed, looking up at you for a second. He watched for a second how you looked at him in wonder, as if this was a sight you’d never witnessed, before returning to the task at hand. “You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”

And secretly, Ghost hoped against all hope that you’d say yes.

“Uh,” you let out a breathless chuckle, still a little dazed. Of course you wouldn’t be delusional enough to assume that Ghost had made dinner for you.

“Or you can stick with your Indian. Not a problem for me,” Ghost lied. But it was a big problem for him. He wanted you to eat the food he made.

“Yeah. Why not?” You decided a fresh, home cooked meal was probably better than your two-day old leftovers anyway.

A small smile tipped the corners of Ghost’s lips up, though it was hidden by the fabric covering his face. You’d never know how happy those words had made him.

Feigning indifference, Ghost gestured to the dining table. “Have a seat then.”

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

Text

Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch.2)

read the rest: masterlist

Tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey

You fucked up. Big time.

You conveniently forgot to mention to that Simon guy that you had work in the morning, and now he’s on his way over to the flat in five minutes and you need to leave for work in fifteen.

You barely had time to brush your teeth in the morning, throwing on last night’s mostly clean uniform and brushing back your hair before putting it in a ponytail. Possibly the worst decision you made was to promise Erica you’d be at the restaurant this morning. Now you were even farther behind on your schoolwork and doubly stressed because you had a prospective roommate who was gonna see what a mess you were and decide he’d have to pass on living with you.

“FUCK!” you yelled as you hurriedly tried to put your shoes on, the back flap bending down and refusing to go over your heel. Frustration rose and you felt like a pot of boiling water about to pour over the lip of the pan; your anger, stress, misery…everything, amalgamating into a giant soul-crushing sob.

The pair of ugly black non-slip shoes that refused to adjust themselves to your feet were now laying on the other side of the room, the force with which you had thrown them leaving behind a brash scuff mark on the otherwise pristine wall.

An intense pressure built up in your chest and refused to release, your eyes stinging with the onslaught of tears that forced their way down your cheeks. You’d been able to hold it together for the last week, but it was time everything caught up to you.

Your situation, though it could be worse, was not where you wanted to be at this point in your life; twenty-six, looking for a roommate, working a job that barely paid just so you could keep a roof over your head and get the education you so desperately needed. You thought you’d have figured your life out by now.

And you were trying, dammit. There wasn’t a moment in your existence where you hadn’t had to fight for what you needed, and you were sick of it. For once, you just wanted someone to be willing to give something to you.

The despair you were feeling showed no signs of letting up, almost paralyzing you in place as you hugged yourself. Your head now hurt from how hard you were crying, slumped over next to the bed in a fit of sobs.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there like that when you heard a harsh knock from the front door.

“Right. How could I forget,” you deadpanned, trying to rid your voice of its croaky-ness as you made your way out of your room. You quickly wiped at your eyes to dry them, but soon realized that your five-minute sob fest probably left a more lasting impact on your face. Because when you opened the door and slowly shifted your gaze up to glance at a face, what you saw instead was a set of narrowed brown eyes peeking out through the holes of a black balaclava.

“Sorry,” the man said, looking at you suspiciously. “I must have the wrong flat.” But you recognized his voice from the call last night

“Simon, right?” you confirmed.

“Ghost,” he said, his voice gruff and assertive.

“What?”

“I prefer to be called Ghost.” Again, with the no-bullshit tone that was forcing you to comply.

“O-Okay.” You didn't even question why; it was an odd nickname, for sure, but you didn't have the time to delve into it. So with a deep breath and a fake smile plastered on your face, you moved on. “Sorry ‘bout the mess you’re about to witness. I’ve had no time to clean.” You stepped away from the door to let the man in.

His staggering height was surprising to witness. You weren’t short by any means, but you’d also rarely ever come across people this tall. It was gonna become a problem if you had to crane your neck ninety-degrees every time you needed to talk to the guy.

It was also strange, and a little off-putting, that he was wearing a balaclava. You’d understand if he was wearing it outside because of the cold weather, but indoors? That’s curious. And also something you didn’t have the time to question right now.

Simon stepped inside the flat and walked over to the living room; you passed by him into the kitchen. “So down that hallway are the rooms.” You used your free hand to point down the hallway to your right, your other hand reaching into the fridge to grab your lunch for the day. “Yours is the one on the right, the bathroom is on the left. There’s only one, so we’ll have to share.” A brief pause as you threw the Tupperware and a water bottle into your purse. “Rent is due on the 3rd of every month, but you don’t have to worry about the rest of this month; it’s already paid.” The spare key that you took from Ethan lay untouched on the kitchen counter. You grabbed it and walked over to Si- Ghost, whose broad back was still facing you.

“Here are the keys,” you jangled them as close to his ear as you could, catching the man’s attention. He turned around to face you, this time his eyes showing nothing. You couldn’t read him anymore.

You acted as if Ghost had already said yes and you were just giving him a tour for the sake of it, but really, you hoped the fake confidence you exuded deterred him from your most likely puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“That’s it, then?” he asked, eyeing the keys you held out but not making a move to take them.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re about to hand a man you barely know a set of keys to your flat. Hell, you’re about to let this man live in your goddamn flat without knowing if he’s a criminal or a creep.” Ghost’s tone was more livid than condescending, as if he couldn’t believe you were doing what you were doing.

And maybe you should’ve been more scared. Not only was Ghost tall, but he was muscular, and wore a balaclava, and had a deeper voice than you’d ever heard from a man. You should have been terrified.

But you weren’t. Nothing about Ghost, neither his demeanor nor his disposition, was giving you a bad vibe. He just looked like a man who really needed somewhere to live, and you were a woman who really needed someone to take the extra room in her flat. It was a win-win.

“Are you criminal or a creep?” you asked, pretending to do some sort of due diligence.

“Of course not,” Ghost replied, his dead eyes morphing into something of slight annoyance.

“Great, then here are the keys.” You shoved the metal towards Ghost’s chest, forcing him to take it. With that, you grabbed your purse, slung your coat over your arm, put on a pair of white sneakers that your boss would hate but would let slide for today, and started for the front door.

“Where’re you going?” Ghost sounded exasperated. Like you had suddenly become a nuisance to him.

“Uhm, work. I’m running late.” You twisted the knob and were halfway out the door when he got your attention again.

“You really wanna do this?” he asked, still rooted to his place in the living room.

You barely contemplated your answer. “Look, I’ll take my chances.” You breathed a heavy sigh. “For once, I need something in my life to go right.”

Not waiting for a reply, you closed the door behind you and sprinted out of the building.

Ghost stood in the now empty apartment, still a little dazed by the whirlwind of a morning he’d just had. He couldn’t bring himself to question why he was so exasperated by the thought of you letting him live with you. It was some sort of instinct within him that told him to reprimand you for letting a stranger reside in your flat with you, though he knew he wasn’t a threat to anyone but himself.

“Jesus,” he muttered into the messy space, forcing his feet down the hallway to take a look at his new room. The space was empty save for a floor lamp that was meant to illuminate the room in the dark. Ghost wondered what the area was used for prior to his arrival, though the conditions of the walls and floors made it seem like it wasn’t used at all.

A ding reverberated through the stale air of the room, Ghost realizing the noise came from his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text message. From you.

Don’t touch the Indian takeout in the fridge. That’s my dinner.

Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. If anything, at least you had your priorities straight.

He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, spotting said Indian takeout, some condiment bottles, a half-eaten sandwich, and some fruits. But no veggies in sight.

A moment of deliberation and Ghost new what he would be doing today, besides moving in, of course. He didn’t know when you’d be back, but he assumed it wouldn’t be for a while.

Perfect.

#simon riley #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod #mw2 #x female reader #x fem reader #forced proximity #roommates #slow burn

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

Text

Masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Let The Light In

Part 1

Part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

Text

Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch. 1)

read the rest: masterlist

a/n: thank you to the beautiful @junosbugs for giving me a stellar idea for a forced proximity fic. ily.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Fucking bullshit. Distance was turning your heart sour.

By the end of the day, he would be back on your couch, probably smelling of cheap liquor and even cheaper cologne. Maybe his hair would be disheveled, as if someone ran their hands through it, or maybe he’d have a lipstick stain on the collar of his hideous grey button-up.

But this was Ethan you were talking about. If anything, he’d go to lengths to cover up his tracks. Try to manipulate you into thinking it was all in your head, as if you didn’t have the proof sitting in front of you.

You happened upon the texts so innocently, yet you weren’t surprised that this had happened at all. And it wasn’t sadness that overcame you at the betrayal, but rather annoyance that you’d put with his bullshit for so long.

“Fuck.” You picked your phone up to see a couple of messages from friends but none from Ethan. But why would he text you? He didn’t think anything was wrong.

You were tired of everything. Your shitty job, your shitty flat, your shitty boyfriend. You couldn’t even muster up the strength to get yourself out of bed this morning, let alone bring yourself to care about how you were gonna pay for said shitty flat once you kicked Ethan out.

But you wanted to be done with him. Here and now. So you reluctantly rolled out of bed and in a split-second decision, started gathering up every one of Ethan’s belongings; clothes, shoes, socks, underwear, his stupid guitar that he didn’t even know how to play, and you dumped that shit on the sidewalk downstairs. Fuck it. People could take whatever they wanted; it wasn’t your problem anymore.

Another few trips up and down the building and now your closet was half empty and you felt a lot better. You sent the incriminating screenshots and a picture you took of Ethan’s stuff on the dirty sidewalk to him, the words ‘It’s over’ trailing along in the next message. You wouldn’t let him explain himself. It wasn’t worth it.

Half an hour later, with your phone blowing up with messages and calls, you sat at your windowsill with a cup of coffee in your hands, staring out at the street below you, quietly observing. You had anticipated Ethan coming back, and as you watched a familiar head of moppy brown hair in an ill-fitting suit charge down the street and into the building, you realized that this was all well and truly over.

The knock on your door a couple minutes later was aggressive, the voice calling out your name and demanding you open the door even more so.

Without haste, you set your mug down on dining table next to you and approached the door, opening it so that only your face could peek through.

“Hey stranger,” you smiled, peering at Ethan’s red face.

“What the fuck, babe!?” he shouted, an octave you recognized well.

“You’re gonna want to keep your voice down, babe. The neighbors might complain.”

“Fuck the fucking neighbors. Why the fuck is all my shit out on the road!?”

You really did try to hold back your laugh. Honestly. But the incredulity of his question stunned you, and you didn’t know how else to respond.

“Am I stupid?” you asked after your fit of laughter died down.

“Huh?”

“Am. I. Stupid?” you reiterated.

“No?” Ethan stood up stalk straight, confused at your line of questioning.

“Ok,” you nodded. “So why the fuck did you think you could make a fool out of me?”

Ethan scrambled for a response, then decided to pull the dumbest one out of his ass. “No, babe. You’ve got it all wrong. That’s not me. I didn’t send those texts.”

“Right, and I’m assuming you didn’t send those videos of you jerking off your shriveled dick to those girls either?”

Ethan’s face paled, a heavy silence sitting in the air as he stared at you. He tried forming words, but you watched as they died a quick death on his tongue.

“I put up with your shit for a long time because I thought I loved you. But let me tell you something.” You leaned your head out the door a little further, as if you were about to let him in on a secret. “Even your parents knew when to cut you loose before you ruined their lives.”

You knew you’d hit the mark when Ethan’s face turned from anguish to fury. His parents cutting ties with him was a sore spot that he still didn’t know how to deal with. And you wanted to twist the knife until it hurt.

“Oh, and I’m keeping the X-Box. I paid for it anyway.” With those final words, you snatched the key Ethan was still holding in his hand and slammed the door in his face. You heard the faint voice of your neighbor echoing in the hallway, to which Ethan said something about everything being fine. And yes, everything would be fine. As soon as the tears stopped falling.

---

‘Room for rent. Urgently need a flatmate. Pls contact.’

You read over the ad to make sure all the pertinent information was listed since you hadn’t gotten any calls about it yet. It’d been up for a week now, and you’d been taking more shifts to hopefully cover the rent for next month in case you weren’t able to find someone to rent the extra room out. That also meant you had less time to spend on school, but finishing your masters was seeming less daunting than keeping a roof over your head. All for a better future, you told yourself as you took a drag of your cigarette.

“’Ey,” Sammy called out to you in his thick Scottish accent as he exited into the back alley where you were taking your break. “Busy day.”

“Understatement of the century. It’s a fucking fish market in there.” With the holidays approaching, it seemed like every family in the city wanted to frequent the restaurant you waitressed at. That meant more work, but hey, it also meant more tip money in your pocket.

“Can I bum off you?” Sammy questioned, holding out his hand for your cigarette.

“Smoke your own.” You reared back. “I’m broke and this is the only luxury I allow myself.”

Sammy chuckled and shook his head, pulling out his own pack. You watched the cloud of smoke exiting your lungs, taking solace in the shapes it formed as it dissipated in the air.

“Oi, by the way,” Sammy interjected after a few minutes of silence. “My cousin’s son ‘as a colleague who’s looking fer a new living arrangement in the city. Passed on yer number to the lad.”

"Really?” A sudden rush of relief coursed through you. You seldom felt so stressed out, even when you were working your way through undergrad. But now, it was starting to feel like if you didn’t get your shit straight, you’d have to drop out of school and move back home. And you couldn’t do that.

You had contemplated calling your mom a few times, but you doubted she had any money herself. It all probably went to the liquor and pills anyways.

“Thank you. You’re a life saver.”

“Sure. And just so ya know, the offer still stands.”

You shook your head. “Thank you, Sammy. But I can’t take your money.”

“It’s just a loan,” Sammy shrugged, taking a pull of his Marlboro.

“I know.” You dropped the remainder of your cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with your shoe. “But I don’t like owing people anything.”

Sammy chuckled again, but thankfully dropped the subject. You couldn’t even bring yourself to borrow money from your mother, let alone a coworker.

Checking the time on your phone, you let out a long groan. “I’ll see you back in there.” You headed back into the restaurant, the warm air surrounding you like a blanket and the smell of steak making your stomach grumble. You should’ve opted for a snack instead of a smoke.

The rest of your shift was a lot of the same, all fake smiles and rancidly sweet customer service voices. Running back and forth and back and forth, putting on your best act so you could get a decent tip. It was exhausting. You hated every second of it, but you weren’t in a particularly good mood these days.

When it finally came time to close, the Maître d’ allowed you to leave early per your generous request to be there bright and early next morning to help set up.

The walk home was frigid, the December air chilling you to the bone and turning your nose pink. It wasn’t a long walk back to the flat, but you were always cautious of your surroundings, holding your purse tight to your body and keeping a fast pace.

In your rush to get back to your bed, you almost didn’t notice your phone buzzing in your pocket. Against your better judgement, you took it out and saw an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

“Hello?” you said into the phone. The person on the line didn’t reply, so you pulled your phone away to see if the call had connected.

“Yes, sorry.” A gruff voice finally spoke up as you brought the device back to your ear. “My name is Simon Riley. I got this number from John. Said you were looking to rent out your room?”

“Oh, yeah. Hi.” You didn’t know why your voice was coming out flustered. “It’s still available, if you’re interested.”

“I am. Very much.”

You chuckled at the bored tone of his voice. He sounded anything but.

“Um, okay. Did you want to come see the place or something? See if it’s the right fit?” You suggested it to be polite, but really, you wanted to see this man to gauge whether he was the right fit. You could deal with messy, noisy roommates, but you would not let an unknown man share a space with you before deciding you were comfortable with him.

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you the address.”

“Alright then.” With that, the line went dead.

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 10 months

Text

Let The Light In pt. 2

Simon "Ghost Riley" x fem reader

word count: 3757

read pt. 1

a/n: yayyyyy! pt. 2 is finally out. After a lot of editing, i'm pretty happy with the final result, and I hope you guys are too. happy reading :)

The smoke from the cigarette billowed out of in front of him, Simon’s nerves relaxing as the nicotine coursed through his veins. This was his one vice that you didn’t like, and especially with the baby on the way, he tried to limit himself as much as he could.

But it was hard sometimes. Most of the time.

The sun peeked up from the horizon and the smell of morning dew wafted over Simon as he took another drag of the cigarette before grinding it out on the ash tray he brought outside.

You looked through the kitchen window, seeing Simon’s broad back to you. He had abruptly woken up while you were getting ready for work and was out of the room before you could ask what was wrong.

You suspected he’d had another nightmare, so you were giving him his space to process it before you went to him. You understood when he needed time to himself, and you didn’t want to smother him. He’d let it be known when he needed you.

Simon stared out at the beautiful array of colors in the sky, contemplating his dream. He had frequent nightmares thanks to his PTSD, but this one was particularly rough. He’d seen visions of Harper, visions he would never wish upon his worst enemy.

Blood, so much blood. Red, red, red. On the walls, on the floor, on his hands. Tears streaking down his face. His little girl’s pleas for help. But he couldn’t do anything. He was utterly helpless.

Simon’s breath grew shaky as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

He had woken up in a panic at 4:30 am, the visceral nightmare making his breathing choppy. He’d immediately went and checked on Harper, seeing her peacefully asleep in her bed, her chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. His heart calmed at the sight of her safe, but the visions continued to haunt him. Hence the cigarette.

As you gathered your stuff to head to the hospital, Simon walked in through the back door. He looked at you with sleepy yet alert eyes, his hair disheveled from sleep. He walked toward you and you met him halfway, wrapping your arms around his torso in a hug the best you could with your eight months pregnant belly in the way.

“Nightmare?” you questioned, feeling him nod his head as his arms came around you too.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Simon replied, his voice gruff. He wasn’t ready to rehash the details.

You reluctantly let go of him, running a soothing hand down his arm.

“I can call in and stay with you,” you offered, wanting to be there in case he needed you. “I have a good excuse since my due date’s coming up.”

But Simon shook his head no, giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Okay, but you’ll call if you need me?”

“Of course,” he said, appreciating that you didn’t press him on the matter.

You and Simon made your way to the door, kissing goodbye before you left on your forty-five-minute drive to work. You lived on a relatively secluded farmhouse in the British countryside, and the nearest town was a good drive away. You didn’t mind, though, as the sights made it worth it.

After your departure, Simon went about his day, preparing for Harper’s teacher to come at 9. She was still getting accustomed to life, so you and Simon had decided to have Harper homeschooled for the time being. You would eventually transition her to a nearby school when she was ready.

It was discovered that Harper was an orphan, her birth parents having died when she was just a baby. When Simon found this out, you and he had a lengthy conversation about the options. Obviously, she would go up for adoption, but Harper was already doing so well with you guys, and you didn’t want to disrupt her life even more by having her put in foster care. So, you decided to adopt her.

The process was still ongoing, even after four months, but you were excited at the prospect of her officially being your daughter—not that you didn’t already think she was. She was, by all means, your child.

Simon turned on the TV, attempting to ease his nerves by catching up on last night’s Manchester United that he had missed. A steaming cup of his favorite tea sat on the coffee table as he tried to shift his focus to the game highlights, but his mind continued to wander to the nightmare.

At fifteen past seven, he heard little footsteps coming down the stairs. Harper walked over to where Simon was seated on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a mess and her PJ’s were askew, signaling that she’d had a good night’s rest.

It was something she struggled with when she first started living with you and Simon, but months of therapy was putting her on the right track, and she was having less and less episodes with each passing week.

“Good morning, my sweet girl,” Simon said as Harper approached him, holding his arms open. She crawled into his lap and found a comfortable position before relaxing into him, her cheek resting against his chest in a way that still gave her a view of the TV. She rather enjoyed watching football with her dad, laughing every time Simon groaned at a bad play and cheering with him for every goal.

“Sleep good?” Simon questioned, to which she nodded her head. Harper still had trouble speaking, her therapist telling you she suffered from selective mutism. Your heart ached at the thought of all the trauma she had been through to get to this point, but you were relieved that she was making good progress.

After twenty minutes of mindless TV, Harper looked up at Simon, patting her belly.

“All right then,” Simon said, letting Harper get down before he got to his feet. “Let’s get some food in ya.”

At the hospital, you clocked in for your shift and got about to business, tidying up your desk, which was often scattered with papers and pens due to the craziness of the ER. You chatted with nurses, looked over patient files, treated those in need, and took frequent breaks due to sore feet and a weak bladder.

The day was going by normally, the ER a little quiet today, thankfully. Well, it was going normally until about 1:23 pm. You were heading back to the nurses’ station after checking in on a patient when all of a sudden you were assaulted by a searing pain in your abdomen and lower back. You breathed through it, huffing out short breaths in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“You okay, Dr. Riley?” Amanda, the head ER nurse, asked at the look of pain on your face.

“Oh yeah, nothing of concern,” you reassured, but just as quickly as the pain had subsided, it resurfaced. This time you were left hunched over and feeling nauseous, and not even a minute later, you felt wetness seep through your scrub pants, fluid gathering in a pool underneath you.

You looked at the pool of fluid, dazed and confused. But only for a second, because you quickly realized what was happening.

“Um, actually, Amanda, if you wouldn’t mind bringing me that wheelchair?” you pointed to the corner where the contraption sat. “I think my water just broke.”

Simon was sitting at the kitchen counter, catching up on reports while Harper and her teacher went about their lesson at the dining table, when his phone rang. Your name flashed across the screen.

“It’s time,” your pained voice reverberated across the phone. “The baby’s coming.”

In an instant, Simon was out of his chair. “Right now?”

“Yes, Simon. Right now,” you wailed, before the line went dead.

“Shit,” he muttered, making his way to the dining room.

“We have to go,” he grunted out to the teacher before getting down on a knee in front of Harper. “Mommy’s having the baby now, so we have to go to the hospital.”

You and Simon had sat Harper down a couple weeks ago to let her know how things would go when her sibling was arriving. It helped reduce her anxiety about the situation, and really, it was just good to be prepared.

As Harper’s teacher made her way out of the house, Simon frantically ran around gathering up the go-bags, his excitement and fear skyrocketing through the roof.

It’s time, your voice echoed through his head. His heart beat at a concerning pace, but he busied himself with tasks to keep the panic at bay. He dialed your sister’s number to let her know in case you hadn’t gotten the chance to call her.

“I’m on my way to the hospital right now,” your sister said in lieu of a greeting, understanding how overwhelmed he probably felt right now. She lived in town so she’d get there sooner than he would and would be able to help while Simon drove there.

He blew out a quick breath of relief.

“Thank you.” And then he was out of the house with Harper.

Like a bat out of hell, Simon sped—reasonably—down the winding roads and onto the main highway that would take him to his destination.

He sporadically checked on Harper, only to see her peaceful gaze on the views outside the window. At least she wasn’t panicking. He’d take any win he could get at this point.

Once at the hospital, Simon zoomed into a parking spot and jumped out the vehicle, almost forgetting to turn it off. He grabbed Harper and the bags, and they both ran inside, stopping to a halt at the front desk.

“Maternity ward,” Simon said, more as a demand than a question. The lady at the desk jumped at the sudden intrusion, but let Simon know the floor.

At the ward, Simon inquired about your room with the head nurse, letting her know he was your husband, then went to find your sister.

“Lily!” he practically yelled at the sight of her dark hair in the waiting room, catching her attention.

“Hey,” she replied, frantically approaching the bedraggled duo, holding her daughter’s hand. “I’ll take Harper, you go. It’s room-”

“I know. Thank you.” Simon then turned his attention to his daughter, getting down to her eye level. “Hey, baby girl. Dad’s gonna go look after mum now, okay. You think you can stay with your aunt and cousin for now?” he asked, making sure Harper felt comfortable with her new surroundings. But she barely listened to him as she absentmindedly nodded her head, engrossed in what her cousin Nina was showing her on her iPad.

Simon gave a Harper a quick kiss before turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.

2408…2410…2412…2414. This is the one.

Although the hallway was in no way quiet, Simon particularly homed in on your pained howls echoing through the closed door. He noticed his hand shaking as he went to open the door, reminding himself to take a deep breath to steady his nerves.

As soon as he entered the hospital room, he was met with the sight of you lying in bed, your face red and in agony. His eyes instantly met yours, as they often did. You could be in a room with a million other people, and somehow, he’d always notice you first.

At the sight of your husband, you broke down. You were so instantly calmed by his presence that it overwhelmed you.

“Are you the dad?” the OB asked sweetly, to which Simon nodded his head. “Perfect! Mom over here was very distressed at your absence.”

He scurried by your side, and as soon as he was in reaching distance, you leaned up a little and wrapped your arms around him. No words were able to leave you, not just because of the pain but also at the relief of him finally being here.

“I got you, my love,” Simon whispered into your ear, slowly easing you back into the bed.

“Okay, so it looks like your about 5 cm dilated right now,” the OB said. “I’ll be back to check on you, but at this rate, you should be able to deliver soon.”

The next hour was a whirlwind, nurses traipsing in and out, Simon’s surroundings a blur of wires and beeps and huffing breaths. When it came time for you to finally deliver, you felt your anxiety coming to a head.

“I’m scared,” you cried, gripping onto Simon’s hand like a lifeline.

“I know, my love. I know,” he cooed, keeping his tone a lot more relaxed than he actually felt. “This is scary for me too. But, hey, it’s gonna be over soon, and then we’ll have a little bugger to take home with us.”

You tried to laugh, tried to let the picture of your little baby in your arms calm you down, but the panic overtaking you didn’t allow that. Deep breaths weren’t going to cut it this time.

Simon noticed this, seeing the fear still glowing in your eyes. He pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, that sweet smell of vanilla that always seemed to follow you overtaking his senses. He had to make sure you were okay.

“I am with you every step of the way,” Simon said. “You wanna scream? Scream. You wanna squeeze my hand ‘till it breaks…well, you can try,” he joked with a teasing smirk. “Whatever you need, I will give it you. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded your head, knowing that every word Simon just said was true. He had never once let you down, and he was a man of his words. Your anxiety wouldn’t fade right away, but you’d let your husband’s comfort overtake you until it did. It’s the most you could hope for.

And after an amount of time neither you nor Simon could gauge, you’d finally given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. You had cried with the unending happiness and love when you finally got to hold your daughter, Simon right alongside you as he gazed at his daughter’s beautiful face, and then at yours.

When the nurse had taken her away and told you her weight, you and Simon had laughed. At 4.2 kilograms, she was a little bigger than normal, and the irony wasn’t lost on you. She was, after all, Simon Riley’s daughter.

Back in the recovery room, Simon brought Harper in to meet her sister and was pleasantly surprised at how easily she took to her. You let Harper sit on your bed as you cradled your baby, letting her play with her and take in the new addition to the family.

Harper was beyond excited, if not a little nervous, about her baby sister. But she was gentle and immediately took on a big sister role, much to your delight.

This moment was one for the books. For the longest time, you were Simon’s only family, the only one he could trust and confide in. But now, he had more than he ever imagined he could have.

“Baby cousin!” Nina’s shriek echoed through the room, none of you noticing that her and Lily had come in.

“Okay, now. Be gentle. She’s sleeping,” Lily said to her daughter, following after her. At the sight of your newborn baby, Lily let out an adoring sigh, looking at you with tear filled eyes. “She’s so perfect, bee,” she said, using your childhood nickname.

“I know,” you replied, getting just as emotional as her. “I can’t stop looking at her.”

The baby had blonde hair just like Simon’s, and her small button nose and chubby cheeks were the most adorable thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Takes after Simon, doesn’t she?” Lily remarked.

“Cheeky,” he said, but secretly loving the fact.

“Sure does,” you stated, secretly loving the fact too. She was a perfect little piece of you and Simon, a testament to your love and commitment to each other.

Much of the day passed with family and friends trickling in and out, sharing in this happy moment with you. And although Simon tried not to let any negativity seep into this joyous moment, he couldn’t help but feel the stinging pain of loss at the absence of his own family.

It was often a hard pill to swallow, the fact that his mother, brother, even his nephew, were gone. That they’d never be able to share happy moments with him again.

But when his baby girl had opened her eyes for the first time, they were hazel. A striking, mesmerizing hazel that were so familiar to him, it almost brought him to his knees. Neither you nor Simon had hazel eyes, but obviously it had skipped a generation.

It was like his mother had sent a piece of her down to him, something for him to take solace in and to know that she would always be with him. That was also the moment you had known what you were going to name your daughter.

That night, when darkness kissed the sky and crickets chirped outside the open window, you broached the subject with Simon.

“What if we named her Margaret?” you asked him as he held the baby to his chest, taking in that newborn scent.

Simon paused in his pacing to look at you, seeing the sincerity on your face. His heart burst like a dam, the emotions he had been holding back flooding to the surface.

And you knew the answer just by the sheen in his eyes.

***

Later that night, when you and the baby were fast asleep, Simon didn’t dare to close his eyes. He gazed at your serene face, a little jealous of how your dreams never tormented you, but at the same time relieved that you didn’t have to go through what he did. Visions of his nightmare mixed with the memory of his daughter’s birth and the liveliness of the room as people came to see her.

His tired eyes drooped, and he was happy. He was so goddamn happy, but he was also restless. And scared.

Would he be able to protect all of you? Would he ever feel normal? Would his trauma continue to burden him, and inadvertently put that burden on you?

What Simon didn’t realize was that you were restless too, your anxiety from before morphing into something else. Anxiety about the future, about raising your daughters, about…everything, it felt like.

You opened your eyes, ready to accept that fact that you wouldn’t sleep tonight, when you noticed Simon sitting up on the couch to your right.

“Si?” You sat up in bed, reaching your hand out to call him over. He complied, coming over to you. He sat at the edge of your bed, a hesitant look on his face. “You okay?”

Simon considered lying. Considered telling you he wasn’t plagued with so many negative emotions so close to the miracle that happened today, because they weren’t supposed to. Right?

“No.” He settled on the truth instead. “I mean, yes. But also no, in many ways.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you said, reaching up to cup his cheek. You ran your thumb across it, the feeling of his slight stubble something you’d never stop loving.

He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, straightening himself. “I feel like I should be happier. I am happy, don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy. But I can’t stop thinking about the nightmare.” He described what he saw to you, how he felt helpless. “I’ll never be enough. Nothing I do will ever be a 100% guarantee that you and Harper and Margaret are safe.”

You stared into Simon’s eyes, feeling the anguish radiating off of him.

“Simon, you are enough. You’re more than enough. You are so much more than your ability to keep us safe. A loving husband, a doting father, and most of all, a human being. You have to give yourself a break.” You slid over on the bed, indicating for him to sit beside you. He did so, maneuvering himself to give you ample space.

You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. “It’s okay to feel doubt. God knows I do. It feels like I go through everyday not knowing what the fuck I’m doing. Every moment I spend with Harper is a moment that’s tainted with the fear that I’m doing her more harm than good.”

“You’re amazing with her,” Simon interjected. “You’re exactly the kind of patient and adoring presence she needs.”

“And so are you, Si. Don’t think for a second that you’re not just as patient with her.” You looked up at him to see him already looking at you. “Who’s been the one to guide Harper through her panic attacks, or plan her lessons with her teacher, or take care of her when I’m not home? It’s all been you. You care about her so much, and she sees that. She loves you.”

Simon contemplated, thinking back to a couple weeks ago when Harper had woken up in the middle of night screaming. Both your hearts had stopped, thinking something horrible was happening. As it was, Harper had had a bad dream, not unlike the ones Simon himself experienced. She was shaking like a leaf and refused to let either of you touch her, and Simon had been the one to help her through the panic attack and calm her down.

“A lot of things are out of our control. But what is in our control is what we do and what we say. It’s a lot of faith to put in ourselves, but that’s what we gotta do,” you shrugged. “Everything else is arbitrary.”

Simon relaxed into you, taking in your words. You were right, you rarely ever weren’t.

When Margaret started crying, he brought her to you, and gazed in wonder as you fed and comforted her. You whispered sweet words to her and held her close, and when she finally went back to sleep, Simon decided he would take this newfound joy he felt because of his family and pocket it. Relive that feeling when nothing else made sense. And he would never stop trying his hardest.

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rose-tinted-glasses671 · 11 months

Text

Let The Light In

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem reader

warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking

summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.

word count: 3356

read pt.2

a/n: This is my first attempt at a fanfic but im excited about this. The idea came from one of my many pre-sleep scenarios that i had a strong desire to put on paper. Also, I wrote simon to not be emotionally closed off because: a) thats how i imagine he would be and b) i love an emotionally mature man. okay thats it. enjoy!

You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.

But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.

His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.

Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.

“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.

“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.

You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”

“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”

“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.

The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”

The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.

“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.

You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.

The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.

After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.

You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.

“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.

Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.

Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.

“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.

While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.

“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.

“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.

“Is your name Harper?”

She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.

You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.

“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.

With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.

Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.

Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.

Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.

Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.

He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.

The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.

Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.

“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.

Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.

Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.

You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.

“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.

When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.

“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”

It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.

“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”

He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”

You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.

“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.

“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”

“She spoke to you?”

You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.

“Hmm.”

You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.

“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”

Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.

Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.

“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”

You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.

“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.

You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.

And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.

After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.

Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.

“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.

You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.

These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.

After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.

He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.

“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.

Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.

Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.

You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.

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