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#simon riley wife
oceantornadoo · 2 months
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protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in
“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.
“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.
“‘ello?”
“si- simon, it’s me.”
“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.
“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.
“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”
9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.
suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.
“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.
twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.
“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.
“you win.”
fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.
“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.
“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”
“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.
“we’re not together anymore, simon.”
“you’re still my wife.”
silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.
“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.
“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.
“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.
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idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately
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lethalchiralium · 4 months
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Simon sleeps best when your head is on his heart, knowing his heartbeat lulls you to sleep most nights. Your arm on his chest, the other tucked underneath your side and your leg thrown across his hip - no matter how bony you say it is. “You have no cushion there, Si,” you always say, “You need to eat more. They don’t feed you enough when you’re working anyway.”
His head is either back on his pillow, eyes staring at the ceiling or he’s looking at you. Baby monitor on his side of the bed, wanting you to take more rest. I’ll be awake anyway, he says. Damned sleep schedule, he says. He’s asleep ten minutes after you are.
He sleeps second best when his head is settled on your stomach. Hands cradling your lower back, eyes drooping as the TV hums from across the room. Your fingers in his hair, your body wash lingers on your skin. He rubs his cheek a bit on your stomach, just to make you smell like him.
He sleeps the third best with the dog pile - Mellie on his chest when you finally allow her to sleep in the bed, Winnie tucked into his side in a ball, and your head on his shoulder and hand gently settled on his belly button - near Mellie’s socked feet.
He doesn’t sleep much when he’s far from home, far from the woolen blankets, loud laughs and soft cries. He can’t rest when you aren’t beside him, holding him through the nightmares and the dreams that make him cry silent tears. He doesn’t sleep well without knowing his home is safe, that his girls are asleep soundly - whether they’re in his bed or their own, all three of his Riley girls are safe and sound.
That’s all he’ll ever care about.
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yawnderu · 5 months
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Content: domestic Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, husband!Simon, massages, fluff, A LOT of ass smacks because this man has a whole ass bakery.
Simon sat quietly next to you on the couch, mind reeling with the stress from the mission he just came back from, gaze distant and focused on staring ahead. You know better than to take it personal, aware that he simply needs time to unwind and process he's back home, safe and sound.
''Would you like a massage?'' You offer with a small smile, noticing how his muscles seem more tense than usual, bulging out of his clothes even more. He's quiet for a few seconds before looking at you, managing to return a half-smile and nod in agreement. Your hands hold his, trying to pull him out of the couch and being unable to— the asshole is making himself heavier on purpose, a smug smirk painting his lips at the thought of annoying his wife.
You pull harder, grunts escaping your lips because he's just too damn heavy.
''Simon.'' One stern look is all it takes for him to willingly get up from the couch, playfully swatting your head out of the way before running away once you try to kick his ass, running right after him while a small laugh escapes your lips. You crash on his back, purposely pushing him face-down in bed before smacking his ass, dragging a quiet, muffled laugh out of him.
You remove his muddy boots, helping him get out of his clothes until he's stripped down to his boxers, still laying face-down in bed, trusting you completely with his body. You get a bottle of massage oil from the closet, landing another playful slap on his rear before straddling him, sitting on his ass as you began spreading the oil all over his back. He let out a grunt at the spank, but didn't bother protesting, too distracted by the sensation of the cold oil being spread all over his tense muscles.
Your hands work wonders soon after, kneading and applying pressure on every single one of his muscles, slowly getting rid of the knots and tension in his body. He laid in bed with his head turned to the side, eyes closed as he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of your hands working over his muscles, low moans leaving his lips sometimes at the pressure applied on his back muscles.
20 minutes is all it took to get rid of most of the knots on his back, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his head before giving him another one on the cheek, getting a grunt in response from the half-asleep man.
''I love you.'' You whisper in his ear, using the leftover oil on your hand to massage his bicep.
''I love you too, sweet girl.'' He manages to reply, voice groggy and deeper as he tried to stay awake to spend more time with you. A small giggle leaves your lips when you see his struggle, getting off of him and jokingly playing bongos on his ass, looking at the muscle and fat giggling underneath your touch.
''God, your ass is so perfect.'' Your tone is playful, but he's no stranger to you worshipping his body, a small smile on his lips at your words.
''S'all yours.'' He mumbles sweetly, voice still gravelly and coarse as he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. Another gently spank is delivered to his ass before you lean down, biting one of his asscheeks— not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to feel it. His muscles twitch from the sudden sensation before he relaxes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he turns to look at you with a smug grin.
A/N: I don't wanna kms anymore so here's some tender Simon instead of angst efbhjfehbj<3 writing some rimming stuff soonish AND I'm going back into writing nasty sinful monkey sex more :3
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moralesispunk · 2 months
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John Price x wife x Simon - now lets talk about John who wants kids but found out he can’t get you pregnant so asks a trusted friend - Simon
NSFW so minors dni (breeding kink, pinv unprotected)
(John x reader x Simon all links here)
John had proposed the idea one night and you had brushed it off, you did it again the second time, but the third time he told you about the idea, about how he had a friend who he would trust with his life and so would trust to get his wife pregnant, you started to think about it.
It was something that had clearly been weighing on his mind, on both your minds really though yours in a different way. Kids had always been in your idea of the future, especially a future after John's retirement, but after a year of trying with no success you both found yourself at a doctor holding a result that told you John couldn't have kids.
It was a hard blow for both of you but you decided to give yourselves some time to deal with the emotions of it first. That was, until John came up behind you one day in the kitchen for the third time, chin resting on your shoulder as he told you a way that you could have a kid that may not be his biologically but one he would love wholeheartedly.
"Let's just sit down, the three of us, and talk about it," he said.
So you agreed, "just talk no promises" you told your husband and he kissed your cheek with a smile, moustache tickling your skin as you laughed and wriggled away from him.
It was a night that had you making dinner and talking about your week, filling the silence nervously as you cleaned the plates away, before John pulled you to the living room and onto his lap on one sofa, Simon taking the other.
You both listened as Simon told you that he wanted kids but didn’t feel he could have a relationship. He didn’t want to just be some guy to your kid, he wanted to be another dad, who got to see them and take them at weekends and be no different to you or John. John's hand was a steady weight on your back as you listened, and then after a moment to think about it agreed, the three of you deciding to forgo the expensive procedures with doctors and, as John said, do it the ol’ fashioned way.
So here you were, lying on your back and looking up at Simon who was slowly pushing himself into you. John was sitting in the chair in the corner, having spent the last forty minutes or so helping Simon stretch you open, using his thumb on your clit as Simon curled his fingers inside you until you had come twice before John said you were ready.
"Fuck," Simon groaned and your hands clawed at the covers until he was fully seated inside you.
Your eyes were tearing up. He was bigger than John, although not as girthy, and hitting you deeper than you had felt before. Your head rolled to the side towards John and he could see in your eyes that you needed something more, sitting up from the chair and coming to kneel by the bed.
"You can take it." John stroked a hand over your head. "Can't you, angel?"
"Mhm!" You moaned, Simon's fingers digging into your hips as he started to thrust into you faster.
"Let me hear you," John said, thumb pressing down on your chin so you stopped biting your bottom lip and let your moans out.
You weren't sure who to moan for, what to do. "I can take it," you said, looking at John, but he shook his head.
"Tell Simon."
You rolled your head back and looked up at Simon, your fingers reaching to stroke along his knuckles before he took your hand in his. "I-I can take it, Si-" You cut off on another moan and Simon's eyes were nearly rolling to the back of his skull.
You were both getting close, Simon's chin tucked to his chest as he watched his cock get lost in you and your eyes were rolling when John started rubbing circles on your clit.
"Gonna fill my wife up?" John asked and Simon grunted, his eyes flicking up to yours.
"You goin' to let me? Let me get you good and pregnant?" Simon asked through his grunts and your back archesd off the bed, muttering of please, please, please passing your lips in breathy moans.
"Need you to come for me first," he said and John kept that steady pressure against your clit that he knew you liked, his lips pressed against your temple.
John reached for your other hand, the one not holding Simon's and felt you squeeze it as you came closer to your orgasm. "You're so good," he whispered against your skin "You're doing so well, you're almost there."
"Fuck, Simon! J-John!" You squealed and both men groaned, John wrapped his hand around his cock and stroking it in time with Simon's thrusts.
Your body tensed and relaxed as you came, Simon holding you there with one hand on your hip, your head turning and kissing John who was spilling over his hand. He swallowed all of your moans, pulling back when Simon started to work through his release and he pulled Simon to you, his friend now kissing his wife as he spilled into you.
Simon's kisses were different from John's and you let go of both their hands to run through his hair. He was softer in his kisses, tentative almost as small whines came from the back of his throat until his body relaxed on top of yours.
"Hips up, baby," John's voice came from beside you and Simon pulled back, rolling to the side as John slid a pillow under your hips.
"I don't know if there's science behind this," you giggled, dizzy and sated.
"Not taking any chances," Simon whispered, his rough hand running down your stomach.
After a while the men carried you to the bath, washed you and had you hydrated and tucked back under the covers. If you had been more aware of your surroundings and not on the edge of a deep sleep, you would probably be thinking about that might have been it, how you, Simon and John might be having a baby.
Simon bent down and kissed your forehead, smiling against your lips when you tilted your head up to kiss him proper.
"Well, I should-" Simon reached for his jeans but you stopped him with a hand wrapped around his wrist.
"Stay," you said, tugging his wrist once.
His eyes flicked to your husband and he must have found whatever he was looking for because he dropped his jeans by the side of the bed and lay down beside you, pulling your body into his chest.
John lay on your other side, pulling the duvet up and switching off the bedside lamp.
John had wondered if part of him would struggle with this set up, whether he would get jealous and call it off, yet when he looks at you in Simon's arms it feels right. Especially when, even while asleep, you reach a hand out to wrap around his.
________
ready to run into the sea after writing that
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babygirl-riley · 6 months
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Welcome Home
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You surprise Simon at the base instead of being at home. You also think about how far he has come to acceptance.
Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, fluff, dad!simon, angst, pregnancy
“I’ve fallen for it, I’ve fallen for it somehow.”
A/N: THE PART TWO DAD!SIMON FROM @ave661 IS KILLLINGGGG ME! Seriously chokehold she has me in ALL the time with her art. 😭
simon x reader guide
simon x reader family edition
You called Price beforehand, asked him if it was alright to surprise Simon. You wanted to show up at the base with your baby girl waiting for him. Like you always do. Thankfully and full heartedly he agreed, he even added that he is excited to see his niece. On the way to the base you felt excitement as you played music for both you and your baby.
Your baby gabbles as she plays with hanging baby toys on her car seat. Simon has been gone for a month, it has been so long and you were so excited. He missed having her first tooth, which he will be so excited to see.
Once you got you and your child out of the car you headed to the inside of the base. “141 will be landing in 5 minutes ma’am.” A man said guiding you to the tarmac. “Captain Price said to meet them there.”
You followed the solider to the direction of the tarmac. You knew very well where it was at, a year ago you were on the team for 141 but decided to retire once you found out you were pregnant. Memories littered the hallways as you held your baby close.
“No.” He mumbled as you both stood in your room. He didn’t move for a moment, you thought he was going to leave and not come back for hours. Simon doesn’t do well with emotions but the last couple of months, he has been able to open up more. Now this. You didn’t know how he was going to react let alone what he was going to do.
It was clear, two lines, one word, 6 tests. You and Simon have been in secret for 2 years, established a relationship in a year. You played with your hands as nerves started to kick in. “I thought you were on birth control.” Simon said looking up at you, his eyes only to be shown. The skull mask looking at you.
“I am.” You said your heart slowly hurting, you knew that he never wanted a kid. You knew of his past so this was a joke for the both of you. It was frowned upon when a lieutenant would be sleeping with their sergeant. Hell damn near court marshaled.
Simon looked back down at the tests. He can’t. He won’t. His mind racing a million miles an hour. How could he explain this one to Price? How could you hide a belly on the force? Is there a way for it to be a secret anymore? He cursed himself for loving the fact that he could breed you. It was a new found kink, with him thinking of his cum coating your walls. Simon never broadcast it to you. Telling you that seeing a belly got him feral, thinking about how your body would react to his gift. But…It’s just…is it too soon? Was he ready? Surely he couldn’t be.
“I can get…”
“No,” He cut you off before looking up at you. “This…Not that. ‘M,” his voice trailed. No abortion, he won’t put your body through hell just because both of you didn’t want to wrap it. “I just-I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t either,” You whispered walking slowly up to him. “But we can figure this out?”
Simon nodded once still looking at the tests. You waited as he stood there and sighed. “We have to tell Price now.”
“Here is the tarmac,” The solider said breaking you from your thoughts. “It looks like they have just landed.”
You mumbled a thank you as soldiers came out one by one from the plane. All covered in dirt or blood, tired written on their faces. You frowned knowing that Simon felt the same, it couldn’t have gone the way it suppose to.
You smiled as you walked out watching Gaz come out first, happy surprise on his face. He looked to the side of him to see Soap, who smiled at you nodded. Price smiled, heading towards the direction you were before stopping. Simon, walked out last, almost stopped in his tracks.
Smile beaming on his face underneath the skull mask. His girls. He be-lined to you and your baby girl. His heart beating quickly, as excitement coursed through his veins.
Price stood as both of his teammates broke the news. He had his suspicions of them fucking around but not together. He itches his beard as your tears start to mellow out. Simon was not looking at him but folding his arms while leaning against the wall.
It was like two of his kids came home after school to get hounded at. It was amusing if Price wasn’t angry. Yes. He was at first, his lieutenant and his best sniper in a bit of a bind. She has to be discharged no way will Price NOR Simon let her go out in the field. Especially since they voiced they are keeping the kid.
“We keep it low,” Price finally spoke watched as both of you looked up. “We have to slowly discharge you, not try to have eyes on the situation until then. No missions for you.”
You nodded, first time every has he seen you so shy. Timid. Usually you had confidence written all over you. “Yes sir.” You mumbled looking away.
Price looked at Simon. “I want to have a discussion with you,” He looked at you as you stared at him. You both are young, younger than him anyway. He seen how Simon’s demeanor changed throughout the years when you came on the force. Of course no one else saw it, but Price did. He always knew. “Dismissed Sargent.”
Your baby squealed with delight as she bounced in your arms. “Da! Da!” She yelled as Simon walked over, having heads turn to see the little baby showed her excitement. Simon did take note that she knew who he was and in fact used ‘dada.’
Simon almost damn near sprinted as he walked up to both of you. You let him take your baby as he grabbed her, she screamed laughed, as he rose her to the air. Holding her sides gently but firm. She is so tiny compared to him, she kicked her feet softly in the air, laughing her little head off. Simon loves that sound, the sound of pure joy coming from her. To the point he didn’t give a damn who was around them. Simon was never a shower when it came to his private life, but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was.
Simon sat across the table from you, your bump more noticeable, 6 months to be exact. He still couldn’t believe that what was growing inside you was his. Part of him. Something that he would have never thought would be done. Or have. You have become more aware and accepting of having the child. Yet he still hasn’t.
“I know it will take time Si,” You said knowing always what he was thinking. Simon snapped his eyes up at you, he felt guilt for sure. You were just honorable discharged and he stayed in the force. “I can’t make you feel happy about this. But…But I know eventually you will.”
He didn’t believe you until one night he laid between your legs as you rubbed the back of his head. Simon chuckled lightly at the tv show you were both watching right when it happened,felt a small poke to his head, he froze, you felt him tense. “What…what that?”
You giggled lowly as you rubbed your belly. “It’s the baby,” He still didn’t move when he felt it again. “She moves a lot when you make any sort of noise.” Simon rose slightly, looking up at you, curiously. You grabbed his hand and placed it where she was. His eyes trained on his hand. “Say something.” You whispered.
Simon looked at you unsure before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello baby girl.” It took a second before he felt the bump move to his hand. A soft graze. He snapped his eyes up at you and tears brimming your eyes, nodding. Encouraging him to continue. Simon’s eyes started to water, everything hitting, even when she isn’t out here she was wanting him. Knowing that he is her dad. And she was his baby.
His hand rubbed your belly. “‘Ight ass kicker. I’m happy to hear ya too.”
“Hello my angels,” He said as slowly held her close to him. Her head cradled inside of his neck. Her hands gripping his uniform. He placed a hand on the back of her hand holding her close. You smiled as he placed his other gloved hand on your cheek. “Why ya ‘ere?”
“I couldn’t wait at home,” You stated as people passed the both of you. “She couldn’t either,” you bumped your shoulder against his. “Told you it was dada.” You teased talking about the last time you both were on the phone. Her screaming ‘da da da,’ knowing damn well it was her daddy on the phone. Simon would tease and say that she got your intelligence since she was only 5 months.
Simon chuckled rolling his eyes, turning his head as she rose from his shoulder. She started towards his skull mask gripping the bottom of it. “Not yet sweethear,’” he whispered gently grabbing her hands. “We are gonna debrief it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Lass,” You laughed as the scottish came up from behind Simon. Slapping his back. “Oh well hello little miss.” He scratched softly underneath her chin. She laughed again shaking her head as she clung onto her dad. “Yer playing hard to get now?” He teased and looked at you.
“Hey Johnny,” You laughed reaching for your baby. She came to you with ease, which you mentally sighed in relief, hoping that she wouldn’t ball her little eyes out when she watched her dad leave. “We will wait on the cafeteria.”
Simon placed his forehead against yours. “It will be quick.” He whispered.
You nodded as you watched them all file into the base. Your baby holding onto you cooing. “Why don’t you ever get that excited to see me,” You playfully glared poking her stomach. She giggled swatting your finger away. “Brat.” You laughed taking her and you to the cafeteria.
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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader
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summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood Next >>
John Price stood at a round table, leading the mission brief for the team’s upcoming operation. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz sat around the table in various positions. Soap with his boots kicked up onto the table, chair tilted back; Gaz leaned forward onto the table, his forearms on the surface; Ghost leaned back against his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Soap and Gaz wore their regulation tan t-shirts and camo pants, while Ghost was clad in a black long-sleeve and his standard skull balaclava.
“So if we’re stormin’ the building, we’re all accounted for,” Soap pointed out, clicking the pen between his fingers. “We need a sniper.”
“Called in a favor with a good friend, who should have been here–”
“Ten minutes ago,” a strong but mellow voice cut in as a figure turned through the doorway. “I know, sorry John. Got a bit caught up with my room assignment. Tried to put me on the other side of base.”
A woman came into view, offering her hand out to John. They firmly grasped each other’s forearms in a quick shake. Soap and Gaz both had only slightly surprised expressions. Not at the fact that their sniper was female; they’d worked with plenty of fierce women during their time in Task Force 141.
The fact that she did not look the part.
She wore a massively oversized black sweatshirt that brushed her thighs and dark blue skinny jeans, her hair loose down her back. Must’ve just got off a plane, Soap thought to himself, looking her up and down. Her stance showed her confidence, feet shoulder-width apart as she faced the team with a bright smile (one not often found in their field of work) and glowing skin. She wasn’t necessarily small, more average height, but her attire dwarfed her frame. 
“Thank you for joining us, Captain,” Price nodded at her. “This is Freyja. American Special Forces, sniper, undercover ops. She’s been briefed and will be joining us temporarily for the op. She comes highly recommended and outranks all of you, so I’d suggest you be on your best behavior.”
The woman jabbed Price with her elbow, rolling her eyes, much to Soap’s surprise. He barely suppressed the laugh that bubbled in his chest, unable to help the small choking laugh that escaped. Ghost glared at him and he quickly piped down.
“Thanks, John, but I think I’ll be fine. Glad to be of use.”
“Happy to have you. Let me know if you need anything while you’re here. I’ll leave you to it, get acquainted. We leave at 0400 hours. We’ll be infiltrating in daylight; prepare accordingly.”
“Aye, Captain,” Soap nodded once and saluted him, setting his chair back down as he rose. He watched John pat her shoulder on his way out, sharing what seemed like a knowing look, before finally departing to his quarters. Interesting.
Soap was the first to cross the room, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Sergeant John Mactavish,” he introduced, shaking her hand. He noted her equally firm grip and the cool metal of a wedding band pressing into his palm. Her skin was calloused yet soft, not as rough as his own. 
“Soap, right? Heard a lot about you.”
“Aye. Good things I hope?"
“Mostly.”
A boisterous laugh left him, so loud you’d think the room shook. Soap heard Gaz gag on his water before breaking into a choked wheeze. The other man approached, shaking her hand as well. “Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz.”
Her hands found their way into the pockets of her sweatshirt.
“So, Freyja… like the–?”
A gentle, airy giggle floated into his ears. What a lovely sound. “Yes, like the goddess. I know, my husband’s idea.”
Soap groaned, his head lolling back in faux agony as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, lass. Was hopin’ ya didn’t have one’a those. He in the service?”
“He is, but you wouldn’t know him. Keeps a pretty low profile,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the two men in front of her.
”D’ya think I could take him?”
”Probably not.”
Neither Soap nor Gaz noticed the way Ghost’s mask twitched slightly, evidence of the smirk that pulled at his lips. But she knew his microexpressions like the back of her hand, even out of the corner of her eye. The Scot remembered Ghost’s presence suddenly and waved his hand in his direction. He hadn’t made any move to greet the newcomer and hadn’t spoken during the entire brief.
“Steamin’ Jesus, Ghost, you heard the man. Be nice to the lady!”
Ghost grunted, keeping his arms folded on his chest. “Captain.”
“Lieutenant.”
The two stared at each other, her brow quirked. As the seconds passed, the interaction became increasingly awkward for everyone else in the room. Even the thickest person on the planet could have sensed the tension. Unable to take the silence any longer, Gaz stepped in to attempt to relieve some tension. “You two worked together before?”
“You could say that,” Ghost stated as he rose from his chair. “A word, Freyja?”
Her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek and she squinted at him. It was almost comical, the height difference between the two. Typically, Soap would have made a snarky quip, if not for the vicious look in her eyes. He wouldn’t say it out loud to him, but the scowl rivaled his lieutenant‘s. Finally, she spoke, “Excuse us, gentlemen. I’ll see you in the morning. You know where to find me in the meantime.”
“G’night, Cap,” Soap nodded and moved to the side, allowing her to pass to the door. Ghost didn’t spare them another glance as he followed behind her. The two men stood silently until they heard a door slam shut up the hall. Soap snapped his gaze to Gaz and found him already looking with wide eyes.
“What was that about?”
Soap shrugged noncommittally. “Not a clue. Bad history? Ghost’s no’ exactly skilled in manners.” He went to head to his room when he noticed a military-issue duffel where Freyja had been standing, an American flag patch on the side. He bent down and slung it over his shoulder. “Left her stuff. I’m gonna drop it by ‘for hittin’ the hay. See ya in the mornin’.”
They went their separate ways, Gaz disappearing to the armory to stock up for the mission. Soap approached the only spare room in their wing and rapped his knuckles against the door. He waited for a few beats to no response and repeated the motion.
Nothing.
Soap’s brows furrowed when he heard what sounded like a muffled argument from the next door up, labeled “Lt. Riley”. Soap should have just left her duffel in front of her door and continued on his way to his bedroom, and gone to bed.
But no, he just had to snoop.
He crept toward the door, still holding the bag as he pressed his ear to the hollow wood. They clearly knew each other, but Ghost hadn’t seemed happy to see her. He felt a bit guilty spying on his lieutenant, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He heard Ghost’s deep voice first.
“We had a deal. You’re supposed to be on leave, and Price knows that. I have half a mind to wring his fucking neck–”
“John didn’t ask me to be here, I volunteered–”
“Cut the shit, Y/N. I’m not daft. He has no place calling you in without asking me first.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Simon!”
Simon? Just how familiar were they with each other?
“Oh, I’m well aware. I just figured that when your husband asks you to stay home, you'd listen! How silly of me!”
So he knows her husband. Interesting. 
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“You want to talk about fair? You went around my back to my Captain. I’d say anything’s fair play at this point.” Heavy boots crossed the floor. “This isn’t just about you anymore. You’re not my superior, you’re–”
Soap shuffled his feet, he realized too late how loud the noise was in the empty hallway, and the voices suddenly stopped. He knocked in an attempt to recover, quickly stepping back from the door before it opened. The woman appeared, now in a too-big band tee, her dog tags resting on her chest. “Hi, Johnny,” she greeted, her tone significantly warmer than it had been a moment ago. 
He didn’t remember mentioning his preference for the name, but he couldn’t find a reason to comment on it then. “You, uh, left ya bag. Wanted to drop it off, figured you’d be here.”
“Oh, my bad. Thanks, I appreciate it.” He transferred her possessions to her. The bag that appeared standard when he carried it looked huge compared to her frame. The added weight did not phase her. “We have an early morning. I’m heading to bed.”
Ghost moved from his spot near the bed on the other side of the room. “Frey–”
She held a hand up, sending another chilling glare in his direction. Soap was impressed when Ghost didn’t even blink at the look. “Enough, Lieutenant. That’s an order.” He didn’t miss the eyes behind the skeleton glowering or how the fabric near his mouth shifted. 
“Yes, ma’am,” he growled through clenched teeth. 
She brushed by Soap, readjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stormed to her room, somehow gracefully maintaining her posture. Before he could turn back to question Ghost, the door swung shut in his face.
Real polite.
~*~
“Alpha-One, in position.”
“Copy that, one. Alpha-Two, in position.”
“Bravo?” Soap’s partner looked over his shoulder at the white light flashing at them in the distance. There was a muffled choking sound and a swallow, followed by a sniffle. “Freyja?”
“Sorry. Multiple armed guards. Two snipers at the east and west sides of the targets.” Her voice, while calm, sounded tired and a bit drained. As if she could sense the unspoken question, she came through their headsets again. “Little sick this morning. I’m fine.”
Ghost's jaw set and he rolled his shoulders, blinking a few times to focus. Soap noticed the motion and covered the mic on his headset. “You a’right, Lt.?” he asked, his voice concerned with his brows furrowed. 
Ghost ignored him. “Can you get a visual inside?”
“Negative. Windows are blocked in both buildings. You’re going blind.”
“What’s the call, ma’am?” Gaz’s voice.
“This is Price’s op. I’m just here for support.”
“Ghost?” Price this time. 
Ghost audibly sighed, his irritation at the situation clear. Soap wondered how bad their last encounter could have been for the usually collected man in front of him to be so disheveled. Soap looked over at the lieutenant, who had turned his attention back to the opening in the wall between them. “Bravo, hold your position. Understood?”
“Affirmative.”
“Alpha-One, move in on your target on my command.” Ghost clicked off his mic and slid the chamber back on his pistol, doing one final check.
Soap took the opportunity to follow up on his unanswered concern. “Ghost, you good? Seem tense. Something going on with the lass?”
“Shut up, Sergeant.” He reached up to click his headset back on. “Freyja cleared hot to engage.”
“Standby.” A beat passed, then another, until the suppressed shot of a sniper rifle rang through their headsets, followed by the bolt being pulled back and pushed forward. Another shot. “Clean hit. Snipers down.”
“Copy. Alpha-One, move in. Keep it quiet,” Ghost commanded, signaling Soap forward with a tilt of his head.
She watched Ghost and Soap move swiftly around structures and cars forward to their target. Her gaze periodically adjusted between them and Alpha-One, Gaz and Price. Soap’s accent was low in her ear. “Approaching target. Engaging two hostiles.”
The pair dispatched the guards with ease, the same as the other team up the road.
“Be advised, I have no eyes inside,” she reminded the group, surveying the surrounding area as both teams entered the building.
“Roger. Breaching.”
On their frequency, angry shouts and gunfire had her writing uncomfortably in her spot. She didn’t like not having a solid visual of her team; it made her feel helpless. The audio of the scene inside wasn’t helping her nerves (or nausea) much, either. The sniper was almost lost in her thoughts when she caught movement at the edge of her scope up the street.
Reinforcements.
“Ghost, engaging incoming hostiles. You might want to bug out,” she suggested, taking several shots at the armed men back-to-back. “Alpha-One, sound off.”
“Heard. Intel acquired,” Price acknowledged. “Clearing out.”
“Alpha-Two, how copy?”
The radio crackled once before Soap came through. “Copy, I’ve lost visual on Ghost. Got separated in the firefight,” he grunted, still firing shots inside the building. “‘M gonna have to squirt.”
Something wasn’t right. “Ghost, how copy?”
Silence.
“Lieutenant, what’s your status?”
Her skin crawled at the repeated silence. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath and pulled her knees underneath her body, her stomach suddenly stilling, nausea disappearing. “Abandoning post.” Her voice pierced through their radios with urgency. She abandoned her rifle and made her way down from her perch.
“Absolutely not. We’re converging at the meeting point now.” Price cursed under his breath as she brandished her sidearm and sprinted towards Ghost’s last location. “Stand down, Bravo, that’s an order!” The captain commanded, rough and authoritative.
“All due respect, Price, get bent.”
Price and Gaz watched helplessly as she disappeared into the structure, Soap approaching them from their flank. “The absolute balls on that one, aye?” he snickered, eyeballing Price. He didn’t even flinch, expression hard as steel as he rubbed his face. He hadn’t seen his captain that stressed in quite a while. Maybe not the time for jokes…
The blood-curdling screams Soap heard would scare any man straight. It sounded like a horror movie slaughterhouse over their comms, whether it was caused by Ghost or Freyja he didn’t know. He did know it was her voice that said Ghost’s name and assumed the distant, heated mumbling was Ghost. He must have lost his headset if they couldn’t hear him clearly, and what they were hearing was whatever her comms picked up. “Shut the fuck up and move. If you were fine, I wouldn’t be here, Lieutenant. You can thank me later,” she snapped, sounding eerily similar to a stereotypical angry wife. There’s no way she cleared out that entire convoy on her own…
Right?
Moments later, without any other gunfire, the pair emerged. Ghost was indeed missing his headset, while Freyja trudged in front of him, taking long steps to cross the street. Her helmet was gone, and her hair had come loose. Gun in one hand, a familiar black combat knife in the other, dripping blood. Strands of hair clung to her face, coated in dark red, along with her hands, bare arms, and vest. Soap’s eyes blew wide. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus, did she–?”
Price hummed and nodded beside him. In the same breath, she stumbled over to a car and gripped the door handle, dumping her stomach on the dusty road. Soap and Gaz moved to help, but Price stopped them with a single grunt. Ghost was immediately on her, expertly sweeping her hair into one hand as he pulled her earpiece out, cutting off their audio. One of her hands grabbed his vest for support while his other hand rested on her back.
“Well, that’s unusual,” Soap chimed, his head cocked to the side as he watched the display.
“Quit starin’ and load up. I doubt that’s the last of those reinforcements.” Price waved at them, catching Ghost’s attention and pointing to an approaching Heli, waving his hand in a “roll out” motion.
~*~
The ride back to base in the heli was one of the most awkward experiences of Soap’s life; not a word was spoken during the short trip. Ghost pulled a rag out of his vest and silently handed it to Freyja to wipe some blood from her face; she passed him the blade she had carried, and he finally placed its familiarity when Ghost tucked it into the empty holster at his hip. She looked utterly drained now that they were in close quarters. In another shocking moment, she rested her head on Ghost’s shoulder, and he didn’t move to shove her off.
What the fuck?
At the base, Ghost dropped her off at the medical bay before storming into the meeting room where the team had gathered to debrief. “You’re a dead man, Price,” he barked, finger jabbed at him as his skull plate skittered across the table when he threw it. “You fuckin’ knew–”
“Simon, I’m sorry–”
“Don’t “Simon” me. Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Captain! If she’s hurt–”
“I didn’t think she would compromise herself that easily.”
Ghost barked a dry, humorless laugh as he pointed in the general direction of the infirmary. “Of course, she’s bloody compromised! She’s my fuckin’ wife, you git!” he snarled, teeth viciously bared as he ripped off his mask.
“Hell’s fuckin’ bells…”
“Bloody hell…”
He was too angry (and, frankly, scared for his wife’s health) to acknowledge their audience. “This is exactly why I told you not to call her. I can’t focus if I’m worried about her safety right now. She’s supposed to be safe at home, resting, not running into a bloody warzone, for God’s sake!” 
“She was told not to leave her post–”
“When has she ever obeyed a direct order?”
Silence fell over the group, Price effectively losing the argument. Neither Sergeant wanted to find themselves on the other end of Ghost’s rage. They had no envy for Price and dared not get between them. No envy at all. On the other hand, Soap had so many questions. Since where was Ghost married? When did he have the time for a wife? And an American at that? How long had he been keeping her a secret?
“Simon.”
Four heads whipped to the soft voice across the room, finding the woman of the hour standing in the doorway. A superficial cut on her forehead had been taped up, her face clear of blood. Soap and Gaz stared at her in disbelief, jaws dropped as they looked from her to Ghost and back again. She chuckled at their expressions but didn’t move to approach them. “Captain Riley. Lovely to meet you both, officially,” she reintroduced herself, a slight smirk on her lips. She finally met her husband’s gaze, her expression softened at his bare face, save for the black paint.
He curled two fingers at her, one arm crossed over his chest. “C’mere. Now,” he ordered her, though his tone had little bite to it.
Even only knowing the sniper for such little time, Soap was outright shocked at the display. Flabbergasted by her obedience when she immediately strode to the spot next to him, barely leaving any space between their chests. It didn’t seem like her. He was obviously wrong, considering what he’d just witnessed. 
Ghost took a deep breath as he peered down at her, examining her visible skin for injuries. “I’m right pissed at you, love,” he muttered, allowing her to loop a finger in his belt loop.
She smiled up at him, her admiration clear now that the sergeants had been let in on the secret. “I know.”
“Don’t give me that look.” The man sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hold his ground with that smile of hers. He dropped a gloved hand to rest on her lower belly, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You alright?”
She placed her hand on top of his and bobbed her head. Her familiar glow from the night before had returned.
“I’d like an apology.”
“And I’d like a parade in my honor. Oh, and a good ol’ fashioned fu–”
“Oi, better watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”
“You love my mouth.”
“Tha’ I do. Just not right now, sweetheart.”
Soap couldn’t take it anymore. “Steamin’ blood Jesus L.t., are you…flirting?”
“Shamelessly,” she giggled, never once tearing her eyes away from the man towering over her.
Ghost rolled his eyes again, his other hand slipping into its home on the side of her neck. “You’re done. I mean it. And if you call her again, I walk,” he threatened, turning his head to address Price directly. “Don’t think I won’t.”
“Ghost, she held her own just fine,” Soap interjected from his chair. “Hen took out an entire squad practically single-handedly, plus the convoy before she went in after ya. I don’t see the problem.”
Realization dawned on Gaz suddenly, forcing him to his feet again. “You’re pregnant,” he exclaimed, both in shock and awe. “That’s why you were feeling sick. And the big clothes. You’re on maternity leave."
The lack of response from John and Freyja and how Ghost studied Gaz said everything they needed to know.
“No wonder you’ve been downright crabbit with her! Can’t say I blame ye, ‘s too dangerous out there to be mucking about with a little one in there.” Soap rose to his feet too, smiling like a cheeseball, ready to ruthlessly tease him. “How’d you manage that, Ghost? A bangin’ wife and a baby?”
“I know it’s been a while for you, Sarge–”
“Aw, away n’ bile yer heid!” the Scot barked, dismissing his lieutenant with a wave.
“English, MacTavish.”
“Sorry, sir, let me translate…Go fuck yourself.”
“Much better.”
He moved on from Ghost, addressing Freyja now. “I’ve so many questions! How long ‘ave you been together?” Soap leaned against the round table in front of them, his hands dragging across the shaved portion of his head.
“How old am I?” Ghost asked in a low, teasing timber.
Her upper lip tugged upwards as her hand wavered, indicating an estimate. “Five years, give or take.”
“Five years?! Son of the god-damn-devil, Lt! You’ve had a secret wife for five years–” He cut himself off with a gasp, his volume dropping to a brash whisper. “Does he take the mask off when you—”
“Tha’ll do, Johnny.”
Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and she swatted his tactical vest with her palm. “Si, don’t be an ass,” she warned, raising a brow at him. “Oh, John! I have pictures for you!” The woman let go of her husband and dug out folded ultrasound photos from her zipped pocket. She, Price, and Gaz moved to another corner of the room, gushing over the snapshots of her latest appointment before flying out, leaving Soap and Ghost alone by the meeting table.
A mischievous grin overtook Soap’s face. “An American, eh, Lt.? And she outranks you?”
“Not another word, Sergeant.”
A long pause stretched between them, although not long enough for Ghost’s liking.
“So… Goddess of love, beauty, and war,” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at the Brit, who threw him a questioning side-eye. Soap hummed. “Fitting.”
Soap almost gawked at the smirk (borderline smile) that Ghost bore as he watched his wife animatedly pour over her photos. “I’m well aware.” Another moment passed between them before Ghost fully turned to the other man. “Johnny?”
“Yeah, Ghost?"
“Flirt with my wife again, I’ll knock your teeth in."
"Noted, sir."
Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.
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Text
Tells | Ghost x Secret Wife! Reader
Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader
Warnings: blood, wounds, pregnancy, 🥺
Edited: No
A/N: I really wanted to do my own take on this idea. Hope you like it.
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Character banner ©️ Me
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Johnny wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized it before, after being introduced to his Lieutenant’s wife. There were small, subtle tells that gave away Ghost having a significant other, but he never put the pieces together. Honestly, Johnny was a little upset because he’s in the SAS- he should be able to see things like this. 
The first time he noticed something was strange with Simon was when they were gathering their gear right before going to another mission. They were placing the last of their equipment into their bags. Simon had not put his black skeleton gloves on yet so his wrists were exposed. Johnny didn’t notice anything different until Simon rolled up his sleeves like usual. And there it was. 
A hair tie. 
He didn’t think much about it. Maybe he found it laying around the base. No. That would be weird and there weren’t that many women frequenting the same places as Simon anyways. 
Could he be using it to snap at his wrist when or if he got anxious? Nah.. Ghost stays focused on missions. Johnny doubted Ghost would let anxiety pull a fast one on him in the field. 
Oh! Simon is definitely growing his hair out. Johnny wondered if his balaclava was comfortable with long hair. So he pointed it out. 
“Growing your hair out L.t.?” His lips curled into a little smirk. 
Simon looked up from the full magazine in his hands. Only his eyes gave away his confusion. “No? Why?”
“Your hair tie.” Johnny nodded to his right wrist. “Never took ya for a purple-wearin’ kind of guy, sir.”
Ghost blinked at his Sergeant and then glanced to his aforementioned wrist. Sure enough a bold purple hair tie was bound to his lower arm. Simon was sure he had removed it before leaving home earlier that day. 
“Oh… must have forgot.” Simon spoke absentmindedly. He was remembering his wife. He had gotten home before her and when she came he helped her remove her ponytail, completely forgetting about the hair tie once their kisses got the better of them. 
Simon didn’t say anything else, so Johnny shrugged it off and continued filling his bag with ammunition. Not even two minutes after he forgot what they were talking about when Captain Price called them over. 
~~~~~
The next time something was different with Ghost, Johnny wasn’t even the one who noticed it first. It was Gaz who pointed it out. 
After a long and hard mission, Task Force 141 had finally arrived at base. The team desperately needed showers, so right after hoping off the helicopter everyone went straight to their barracks. 
After their most loved showers everyone went to the mess hall for some real food and not the field MREs they had been eating for the past few weeks. There Kyle had already gotten his portion of food and was digging in. Soap and Price were sitting across from him too, but no Ghost in sight. Simon came in almost halfway through their dinner and sat next to the young Sergeant. The food on his tray was not being eaten. 
That’s when Kyle smelled it. A fruity smell was wafting from the freshly showered SAS powerhouse next to him. Ghost smelled of fresh cut pomegranates and some other fruit notes. It took him by surprise. Kyle would have normally pictured Ghost as a strict standard-issue soap kinda user, not a fruity one. 
“Did they change the regular soaps, sir?” Gaz took the risk. 
Johnny had finished chewing and looked up at his L.t. and Kyle with a questioning look. Then he leaned forward on the table to take a sniff. 
“Is that pomegranate, L.t.?” Johnny chuckled. He’d take any chance to tease his superior. 
Ghost gave them a subtle glare. He had hoped no one would have noticed his mistake. He’d been in a hurry to leave home and well…
“I grabbed the wrong bottle.” He deadpanned then turned to Price, who was shaking his head in disapproval at the two, to ask about any new leads. Clearly, the conversation was over. 
~~~~~
The third time was when their mission went FUBAR. Ghost and Soap had gotten separated from Captain Price and Gaz when their enemies tried to ambush them. In the chaos Soap was shot in the leg, but with Ghost’s help, he was able to escape and hold out until it was safe enough for them to head to the rendezvous point for extraction. 
Now that they were relatively safe, Ghost was searching his packs for supplies to help Johnny with. Johnny wasn’t particularly paying too much attention to what he was doing since he was bleeding out and moaning in pain, but he definitely noticed when Ghost used a tampon to plug the gunshot wound in his thigh. 
“Fuckin’ hells, Ghost! Where’da fuck yous get a bloody tampon from!?”
“It’s an essential tool for survival.” He honestly had no idea how that slipped into his med pouch. Johnny guessed it was so if Ghost had said it. 
~~~~~
Next time they were somewhere in Africa, most definitely melting with the heat. A great bonding experience for the two of them. Their only relief was a slow moving breeze. Soap and Ghost were staking out one of a known terrorist cell’s many compounds. All was quiet for now. 
“Johnny?” Ghost didn’t move from his position, eyes dead on his scope. 
Johnny looked over. “Yeah, L.t.?”
“Once we’re done here, I’m taking you somewhere important. Keep your schedule clear.” Simon’s deep voice sounded out softly. 
“Oh… alright.” He didn’t know what to say. “Okay. Definitely, Simon.” 
He looked back towards the compound. Simon had glanced at that moment to see his little smile. His eyes crinkled. 
~~~~~
True to his word, after their stakeout mission was completed, Simon hauled Johnny into his car and began to drive them to who knows where. All Johnny knew was that the drive took several hours from their base in London to wherever they were in the countryside. 
They were nearly at their destination when Simon pulled them into a long driveway and pressed a button controller on his shade that opened the metal gates. Going through, the road was surrounded by open pastures on both sides. When Johnny looked around more closely he noticed a few horses, and, was that a cow? They were grazing on the lush grass. Was his L.t. taking him to a farm?
“Where are we, sir?” He had to ask. 
“You’ll see, Johnny.” Simon had slowed down so as to not spook any of the animals grazing. 
Two minutes later and the car pulled up to a nice two-story cottage home. It was made from stone and appeared to be like a fairy tale type of house. Johnny quite liked the look of it. He noticed that the lights were on. 
Simon opened the locked door, then took off his skull balaclava. It was clear that he was comfortable enough to forego it. “I called ahead, so dinner should be ready soon.”
Dinner? Who’s made them dinner? Johnny didn’t question him and just nodded. Simon stepped inside, none of the wooden boards squeaked when he walked in them unlike when Johnny stepped on them. His steps alerted the person in the kitchen. A delicious smell was coming out in soft waves. The person poked their head out to see who was there. They weren’t worried because they knew that only Simon had the extra key. 
“I’m home.” Johnny noticed a softness in his voice that he hadn’t heard before. Simon’s large frame was blocking his view of the person. A dog suddenly burst from the kitchen barking at Simon before realizing who he was. It sat down when he started to pet him, his butt wiggling with the fast beat of his tail. Cute. Then the dog, a German shepherd, turned to him and started sniffing him with caution. Johnny let him sniff his hand and after a bit he licked his hand and wagged his tail. Approved. 
“Welcome home, Simon!” The person’s voice was distinctly feminine. Johnny had moved closer to Simon and the kitchen, so when the woman fully came into view he saw her right away. 
She went in for a hug and that’s when Johnny noticed a small, yet significant distance between the two. She was pregnant and her baby belly was making it a little harder to hug her. But that didn’t stop Simon from embracing her as tightly as he could. When her hand came up to rest against Simon’s shoulder, Johnny noticed again the large diamond on her ring finger. 
“L.t.?” The two lovers separated to look at him. 
“Johnny, come meet my wife.” Simon gave him a knowing nod which Johnny instantly returned. 
He almost couldn’t believe it. His L.t. had brought him home to see his little family. Johnny almost choked up upon realizing the significance of Simon trusting him with this information. Right then and there, Johnny gave Simon a mental promise to help keep his family safe, no matter what.
Bonus: 
“Oh! The baby is kicking! Want to feel ‘em, Johnny?” Simon’s wife asked. 
“Oh, sure! If that’s alright with you?” She took his larger hand in answer and placed it near the top of her baby bump. A few kicks hit his hand. They were rather strong kicks too. Definitely a football star, or another SAS kid, in the making. 
“Woah!” Johnny exclaimed. Then, turning to his L.t. who was watching them interact, his mouth turned into a wide grin. “Does that make me their uncle, Simon?”
“Don’t push it, MacTavish.” His wife giggled. 
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shotmrmiller · 5 days
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there's a retired/old DS i watch on YT and he uses the phrase "If the military wanted you to have a wife, they would've assigned you one."
what if they do?
it's some new program implemented for whatever reason and you think it's one of the worst fucking ideas until your friend tells you that one gets paid a massive sum once the marriage is finalized, and you can divorce within the year no strings attached.
you'd expected a regular man with like 2 years left in his contract, not some spec ops mask wearing freak who calls you his wife within seconds of meeting you for the first time ever and mumbles something about his kids needing to be raised in england and--
?
kids?
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emperorpalpatittay · 7 months
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I have 99 problems and hearing Simon Riley say, “Good girl. That’s right, you’re my good fucking girl.”
Would solve literally all of them.
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oceantornadoo · 3 months
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simon riley being in love but he actually just doesn’t know it.
he finds himself restocking your favorite tea, watching from afar as your eyes sparkle in the morning. he saves your favorite spot on the common room couch, equidistant from the kitchen and the tv, fending off recruits with a hard glare. during movie nights his arm is already around the back of the couch when you sit down, so it’s only natural you rest your head on it. a little ritual between the two of you, masked in the darkness of the room, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as he tries not to drown on your scent. when soap makes a comment about simon having a work wife, simon can’t stop imagining you with a veil in your hair and vows on your lips. his eyes start to zero in on your empty ring finger, trying to imagine your reaction if you both just skipped the dating and he got down on one knee in the morning. you’re it for him and he’s just playing the long game, trying not to crumble when you mention drunk make outs you’ve had at the bar or lamenting your never ending quest for love to the task force. his accidental grips on your waist get more frequent, his hard stares turning impossibly softer when he sees you at morning training, that determined look always clear on your face. he starts coming to your room, stopping by just to tell a joke or see your smile. he tells you to call him simon in private, and thinks that a meteor could strike this earth and he wouldn’t care as long as he got to see you grin. you don’t know when it changes, when you start craving the shoulder brushes and knee touches, but the one night you lay your head on his shoulder a couple minutes into the credits, he knows he’s got a chance.
JUST ONE CHANCE PLEASSEEEEE
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lethalchiralium · 5 months
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“Simon.”
His teeth nipped at your neck, a little giggle escaped your lips. Hands holding his head and back as he pressed his own grip into your hip. Your smile was small, trying not to entertain him while waiting for one of the girls to wake up from their naps.
“Simon, I mean it-“
His forehead pressed against your jaw, slick with sweat as he panted, “Five minutes. Five minutes and I’ll be quiet too.” You didn’t have to look at him to know his desperate gaze, the way his bottom lip would be swollen from your teeth chewing on it a few moments earlier.
Your nails scratched his scalp, his body involuntarily shuddered. “The girls will be up any moment-“
His nose pressed against your pulse, the knee in between your legs pressed up a little bit - you gasped, gripping your husband’s head and back like your life depended on it.
“Y/N.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re not letting yourself relax again.” His forehead rose from your skin, his dark eyes met yours with a gentle gaze. “We don’t have to fuck but it’s not always about the kids. Sometimes it’s about you.”
You let a huff escape your nose, eyebrows furrowed and your eyes rolled. A smile tugged at your lips.
“Five minutes.”
He kissed your cheek. “Gotta remember you need time for yourself too.”
“And for my needy husband.”
He kissed your nose and lips, the lips he was tracing with his tongue a few minutes prior. “You can always kick me off and call it a day.”
You shook your head, your nails dug into his back. “You’re so sure they won’t wake up.”
“Door’s locked anyway.” He smirked, pressing his lips with fervor. You tilted your head upwards, deepening the kiss and feeling your husband’s hands dip underneath your waistband. He pulled away after only a second, mischievous and greedy. “Tell me to stop if you need.”
You nodded, letting your head fall back onto your pillow as your husband began to kiss down your chest, his lips parting as soon as they met your cunt.
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tojisun · 5 months
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just learned about the ‘work wives’. im appalled, ngl!!
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imagine the boys coming to visit and johnny’s talking loud and everything, laughing in his slight intoxication, then saying, “mary would be pissed if she was here, y’know?”
simon’s out of earshot when johnny hiccups this and only kyle’s around to hear but the sudden tensing of kyle’s body says enough about the gravity of johnny’s statement.
“oh,” you say with a quiet chuckle, hoping you sound fine. “would she now?”
johnny hums, nodding sagely. “been askin’ how much better the ‘real wife’ is. i told her she’s weird for askin’ me that because it’s not like she’s a fake wife but–” he stumbles as he leans towards you, “she still thinks y’r not real an’ that LT’s playin’ hard to get.”
you breathe in sharply, your hands curling into fists. kyle sighs deeply before he’s reaching forward and slapping the back of johnny’s head lightly. he then turns to you with a small smile. the action usually comforts you but it raises your hackles this time, making you curl into yourself in anxious anticipation of what kyle would say.
would he say a rebuttal? contest johnny’s story? would he tell you to take it easy and that you’ve got nothing to worry about, as though hearing that your husband has a coworker who blatantly crosses the line of work relationship isn’t worrying? would-
“our lieutenant asked her to be transferred. she’s gone by monday, love.” kyle smiles and reaches out towards you before hesitating. he turns to you and you don’t know what he sees in your eyes but it makes him – and johnny, stumbling feet and alcohol breath and all – pull you in for a short hug.
“don’t worry,” kyle says, just like you thought but not in the way you expected him to utter. “LT didn’t waste anytime reporting her.”
he pauses, mulling, then, “johnny here wasn’t supposed to say anything because it’s not his–” he shoots johnny a pointed look, one that johnny misses anyway. “place to disclose what happened. not his story to share.”
you sniffle, discreetly wiping away the tears that tickle your cheeks. kyle pretends to not see you crying.
“thank you,” you murmur. kyle nods, still smiling softly. comfortingly. “i’ll look for si now, if that is fine?”
“of course,” he says, tugging johnny to his side with a grunt. “about time sergeant hits the bed too.”
you nod, watching as the two stumble away, before turning to look for simon. across the room, you see him already looking at you.
and even if it’s just that, it eases the the knot in your chest.
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moongreenlight · 6 months
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I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.
Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻
ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.
Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.
If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.
He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.
He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.
It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.
He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.
So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.
And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.
The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.
You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.
He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.
He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.
Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.
He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.
The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.
Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.
But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.
He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.
Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.
Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.
It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.
Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.
And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.
Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.
Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.
Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.
He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.
The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.
But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.
“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”
Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.
“‘Course.”
Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.
Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.
“How long you been keepin’ this in?”
“Which bit.”
His response was flat.
“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”
Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.
“Don’t push it.”
Simon bit back.
“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”
“Johnny.”
“Looks ready’ta pop.”
A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.
“Few months.”
They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.
“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”
He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.
“Hope not.”
Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.
“Boy o’ girl?”
This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.
“Girls.”
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moralesispunk · 1 month
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John Price x wife x Simon becoming a throuple is funny because the men have completely opposite sex drives but it somehow still works (it almost works because of that) (John x wife x Simon all links here)
NSFW MNDI
John who, despite being the oldest in your relationship, is the one who is horny all the time. He's the one who gets hard the second he sees you. He's the one who could go three rounds back to back, not including the round in bed when you first woke up or the one in the shower after it.
Simon, on the other hand, who is fine having sex a few times a week. He thinks you're beautiful, gorgeous, the most perfect person he's ever seen, but his body just doesn't work like that. He's more about softer intimacy.
John who has your face pressed into the mattress and his hips knocking into yours, finger tip bruises on your hips and thighs.
Simon who lifts you onto his lap, letting John kneel between his legs as he continues to fuck into you, but holding you there laying on his chest and kissing you slowly as your body is bouncing on John's cock.
John who finishes but then instantly hardens inside of you, pulling your hips down against him as he makes you come two more times so he can fill you again.
Simon who finishes but then immediately softens, yet he still keeps himself inside you until he slips out because he just wants to keep you close and warm.
And this is fine because you love it both ways, you love both of them, but one time you have to go away for work for a couple of days and you find Simon passed out on the sofa when you get home, a hand thrown over his eyes like he can block out all the looks John throws him as he tries to drag the big man back to bed again, but who smiles beneath his arm when he wakes to the sound of John already bending you over the kitchen counter.
He gets up, standing to lean against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and one ankle over the other, watching as you and John both come with shouts of how much you missed each other before he stalks over, holding your face in his hand and kissing you softly as John cleans you up, whispering how much he missed you
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babygirl-riley · 4 months
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Hi I have a request so it’s like Simon and his wife arguing pretty badly like to the point where she’s shouting bare at him she’s on the verge of tears and while their arguing their new born cries so the reader goes upstairs to the crying baby once their baby is calm she doesn’t even go back downstairs to talk to him she just like stays in the baby room and goes on her social media to distract her self from Simon.
Hii so I have this written in my notes I always do that so I don’t forgot what I’m gonna ask and I hope this is what u meant tho cause im so slow it acc took me bare long to understand 😭
Quiet Home
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You and Simon have been back to back arguments. Before you both could finish this one a loud cry interrupted the fight.
A/N: this is exactly what you asked for 😭 So embarrassing truly 💀 However this really tugged the heartstrings
“I want to be close to you, but I don't know what to do.'Cause if we are near to through, it may make it worse.”
Warnings: baby blues, depression, anger, arguments, fighting, yelling, screaming, baby crying, swearing, soft!simon, husband!simon, happy ending
simon x reader guide
simon x reader family
You were exhausted, you would clean, go get groceries, wake up every hour with the newborn, and everything in between. Usually you had Simon right beside you and help you with the smallest things. However, duty calls. Price promised Simon a couple months leave however, it was an emergency.
When Simon first brought it up, you knew he saw the rolling of the eyes but you brushed it off. Simon brought it up later and you just tried to push it away. Eventually it blew up. Things were said and yelled that weren’t meant to come out. Simon slept in a different room and he was gone for a couple of weeks.
You didn’t answer his calls but text him updates. It was petty but it’s a petty time. You were promised to have your husband here with both your child. Yet you are here almost falling asleep anytime it was early in the morning to feed the baby. You sat outside of the room of your baby as she bailed and bailed, being irritated and tired. Eventually you would go in sure but you were so scared that you would yell at her for being a baby.
After the couple of weeks you tried to brush it under the rug as you made Simon’s favorite dinner. Knowing he would be home. He text you stating that he will be home around 7 o clock and he was excited to see both you and the baby. 7 went to 8, 8 went to 9, 9 went to 10, 10 went to 11, and so on. The food went cold and baby was down. Especially you were tired.
You already put the food away and sat in the living room. You watched the clock before you angrily got up and started the bath. You needed to cool down. You heard the heavy footsteps heading down the hall. You rolled your eyes with the clock read 1 AM.
Simon noticed the light beaming through the room you both shared. Inhaling deeply he stepped in and rounding into the bathroom. You stood with a robe on and touching the warm water.
“S’rry ‘m late.” He said watching your movements.
“Okay.” You said not looking at him.
He frowned and shook his head. “I had a ton of paperwork and didn’t notice the time. Thought I had enough time.”
You didn’t say nothing as you went to the cabinet and pulled out your favorite salts for the bath. Simon watched as you poured them in and went back to put it away. “Y/n please.”
“Please what Simon? You were late. You weren’t here. Shit happens right? Emergencies happen. It’s whatever at this point.” You scoffed as you finally looked at him.
Simon noticed the anger in your eyes. He was upset that he left without resolving the last fight. He was upset that when he called you didn’t want to talk. He was upset he wasn’t home when he was supposed to be and not seeing his babygirl. He also noticed you are tired. Exhausted even. The bags. The purple shade underneath your eyes. “It’s my job you knew that when you signed up for it.”
You laughed and shook your head. “You don’t think I know that? Don’t you dare throw that in my face Simon. We were promised a break for our child yet he drags you back and you are willing to without a second glance.”
“Really? It goes back to me not carin’ about our family huh? That’s what you said before I left. You think I care more about my job than us.”
“Yes! Yes I do! I think that you are stuck in a loop without anyone but you! You are fine with just going instead of being here!” You yelled starting to walk out and brushing passed Simon.
“It’s my job! I have to go! I can’t leave my team behind!” He yelled back following you.
You scoffed as you ripped your robe off, ripping open your drawers. “Right but you can do it to us.” You mumbled pulling out sweats and a t-shirt.
“What’s that supp’se to mean?” He basically growled.
You snapped up and looked at him. “Ever since Millie was born it was like you have been gone. You will help yes but how long did that last before you skipped your happy ass to Price,” You yelled pulling the sweats up as you felt a sting of tears coming. You laughed as you heard nothing from him. “I have been doing this by myself with no help! Nothing Simon!”
“That’s not fair! How many times do I have to say it’s my fuckin’ job…”
“You have a job here!” You screamed as tears started to spill and right before anyone could say anything a wail broke through the air.
You both stood there for a minute before you raked your fingers through your hair. You wiped your eyes angrily. “Damn it,” You pulled your shirt on before walking out, grabbing your phone on the dresser. “I am sleeping in the other room.” You slammed the door shut before walking to the baby’s room.
You opened it as Millie screamed louder. You cried as you walked closer that turns to a sob. You didn’t know what to do. How to do it. You don’t know how to keep her asleep and fed and changed without being upset. You gripped the crib hard as you couldn’t move. You were tired and your baby needs you. “I’m sorry,” You cried as you picked her up and shushed her softly. “I know I know.”
You sat in the rocking chair as you let your baby fed. You scrolled on social media seeing all the happy couples. All what they are doing. All your friends looking like they don’t have problems. You missed Simon, not like he changed, just his touch, he soft voice when he whispers I love you. You missed his laugh when you both would have that marriage banter. You missed his tea.
You are afraid that maybe having a kid was a bad idea. That it ruined or tainted everything. You looked at your baby and inhaled. How could you think like that? What has she done to make you feel that way? It seemed like anytime Simon was around you were angry. Small arguments that turned into this. Your lip trembled and you held your baby closer to your chest. Tears prickling your eyes.
You threw your phone on the ground and sobbed. You were a monster. How could a mother think like that? Why would a wife yell at her husband for doing his job? You kept thinking about all the bad things that happened or been thought of that you didn’t notice that your baby was being scooped up.
When the cold air touched your skin, you opened your eyes panicked. You thought you dropped her as you looked down with tears blinding you before you felt a hand on your cheek. You snapped your eyes to see Simon, holding your baby girl close to his chest as she was asleep. “Baby,” He whispered concerned on his face. He was kneeling as he wiped tears after tears. “Come on let me put her to bed and let’s go talk please.”
“No,” You mumbled as you stood up. “I got her.”
Simon stood up and shook his head. “Please, you look tired.”
“I-I no she needs me.” You whispered but made no move to grab her.
“She has me too,” He said quietly. “Go to the kitchen please.”
You stared for a moment and looked at your baby. How small she was compared to him. How secure she looks when he was holding her. You nodded as you wiped more of the tears away. “Okay.”
Guilt pinged your chest as you glanced once to see him bouncing a bit as he slowly put her down. You walked into the kitchen and sat at the island as quiet tears slipped. You are tired you felt your body relax and felt heavy. “Baby,” You snapped your head up and saw Simon holding a kettle. “Do you want tea?”
You nodded once and looked away. It was quiet as he face the kettle waiting for it to go off. “I’m still mad at you.” You mumbled.
Simon nodded as he turned to lean against the counter. “Why is that?”
You rolled your eyes. “Simon you know why.”
Simon walked up and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Y/n I’m not doin’ it to hurt you two.”
You froze for a moment before looking away. Thoughts of how it could be different with him not having the damn job. However, he was right he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. “I told Price to call someone else but…he needed me for what I know.” You slowly looked at him as Simon looked the other direction. “I fought the old man about it for days. I didn’ say nothin’ cause I knew you would be upset. I didn’t notice that I was pushing you and our princess away. Just-just tried to figure out how to get out of it…I’m sorry.”
Now you felt even more bad. He tried to fight not to go and fought for the two of you. You inhaled but don’t exhaled afraid of sobbing once more. The moment Simon looked at you, you sobbed and hid your face with your hands. “I didn’t-I’m so sorry Simon.”
Simon walked around and shook his head as he turned the chair to gently pull you on for a hug. “Baby I should have said something and not fought it alone.”
You sobbed and sobbed as everything came down. “I’m so tired Si. I am tired of being awake so damn early. I am tired of cooking. I am tired of not being able to do anything. I am tired of fighting with you. I am sorry Simon. I should have been m-more understanding. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to marry such a bitch. I have been so ru…”
He gently pushed you off to grab your wrists to show your face. Simon smiled softly before grabbing your chin with his thumb and finger. “I know. I know. You been overwhelmed with so much. We will figure it out yeah? It’s okay, we are fine. I married you for you even when it’s rocky. It won’t always be perfect.”
You calmed down a bit as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”
The kettle goes off as Simon kissed your forehead to walk over. You sat still as Simon came around. “I will be here right now, try my best to help you my love.”
You looked up and saw him, his eyes glowing with love. You inhaled and nodded as he pulled you back into his chest. You snuggled in and felt warmth throughout your body. God no one deserves Simon Riley.
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peachiemilkytea · 6 months
Text
Imagine, | +18
Ghost offering to pay to get your nails done, so you drag him down to the salon. While he texts Soap about how he took his wife to the nail salon. Ghost takes pictures of you in the chair and send them to him. Soap is teasing him for not getting his nails done too. Ghost says he can’t get them done cause of military requirements.
But when you’re done he takes a picture of him holding your hand showing off your pretty nails. Showing you off more like it.
Only then when you guys get home he says “I want your pretty nails around my cock.” You guys end up not making it to the bed instead you’re jerking him of right then and there with your pretty new nails. He’s filming all of it too <3
___
it might be 2:32 at night buttt 👁️👁️
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