i get so emotional every time i think about fanfic culture. it's just so beautiful that people are writing and anonymously posting these thousand-word stories about characters we all love and not even getting any money or public fame from it. it's literally just for the love of the game.
shout out to everyone who participates in fanfic culture, be it reading or writing fanfics. you are contributing to such a lovely thing <3
The way Simon makes love to you is always your favorite thing in the world.
He starts by slowly and gently taking off your clothes until you’re left wearing only your panties, a pair of red lace ones you wore just for him, knowing they’re his favorite.
He turns you around and makes you kneel on the edge of the bed while he stands behind you. He kisses you all the way down from your back to your legs, taking his sweet time on your backside, caressing your soft skin as he goes.
Then he turns you around again. This time you’re standing too, and he kisses your whole body, starting from your bare breasts down to your stomach.
When he reaches the waistband of your panties, he kisses along the soft fabric before looking up at you for approval and sliding them down.
Seeing you completely bare in front of him, he wastes no time standing up to kiss your mouth, your neck, and then your breasts again.
“Lay down for me,” he murmurs, and you obey. He kneels in front of you and slowly spreads your legs, exposing your already wet pussy.
He positions himself on the bed so his face is close to yours, kissing your inner thighs and your lower belly, everything except what you really want. He wants to make you wait, torturing you until you’re a dripping mess for him.
After a few minutes of teasing kisses, he finally reaches your pussy, but only licks you with the tip of his tongue. That only makes you more impatient. You buck your hips up toward his face, but he gently pushes them back down.
“Simon, please.”
Hearing your plea, he decides to give in sooner than planned. He buries his face between your thighs, drawing a loud moan from you. He licks every inch of you, sucking a little harder on your clit.
He laps up every drop of your slick release, drinking you in greedily. He knows he needs to make you cum at least twice before taking you, making sure you’re completely ready so it won't hurt.
After making you orgasm twice, he reaches into the nightstand drawer for a strawberry-flavored condom, his favorite, because after dicking you down, he loves eating you out again and tasting that sweet strawberry flavor on your pussy.
He positions himself and rests one of your legs over his shoulder to reach deep inside you. When he thrusts into you, you both gasp at the sensation, followed by your loud moans and Simon’s low groans.
“There we go, sweetheart... such a good girl,” he groans lowly, making you clench around him even more. One of the things you love most about making love with him is the view: his large, scarred hands caressing and handling your body, his defined abs, and his massive frame towering over yours. He smells intoxicating, a rich mix of leather, tobacco, and a warm, woody cologne.
He shifts his weight, leaning down to fuck you in missionary, and you love every second of it. It allows you to wrap your arms around his back while he whispers softly into your ear, turning his head just enough to catch your reaction. He is always completely attuned to you, studying the way your breath hitches and how your eyes flutter with pleasure.
After you both finish, he lingers inside you for a few moments, resting his heavy head in the crook of your neck.
“Stay here. Don’t move.”
With that, he gets up from the bed, stepping into the bathroom to grab a towel before heading to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for you. When he returns, he finds you right where he left you, a small smile appearing at the sight.
He gently wipes your body with the towel to clean up the mess between you, even though you’re both definitely going to shower soon. He hands you the glass of water, and once you’ve taken a drink, he takes a sip from the exact same glass.
He sets the glass back down on the nightstand and crawls back into bed, pulling you against his chest until you’re completely enveloped in his warmth.
“I have to leave in a couple of hours, love.”
Right. There it is. You almost forgot. He’s leaving on a mission, and being in love with a military man, you never know if this is going to be the last time you ever see him.
So yes, making love with Simon is your favorite thing in the world, because you never know if you'll ever get to do it again.
The two of you just stared at it, unable to move or say anything.
You finally managed to look at him, but Simon kept staring at the test for what felt like forever. Positive. You were pregnant. One little symbol had just changed your entire life.You knew Simon didn't want this, or at least, you thought you did.
“You don’t have to say anything, Simon. I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
He finally looked at you, there was something in his eyes, fear. No... more than fear. It wasn't that he didn't want this, he just never thought something like this would happen. Especially not now.
“I’m scared.”
You never thought Simon Riley would admit to you or to anyone that he was scared, yet somehow, the thought of bringing a tiny little human into the world terrified him more than standing face to face with the enemy on a battlefield. “I know... I’m scared too.” For a brief moment, Simon hated himself, he was supposed to be the strong one, the one comforting you. Instead, he was sitting there admitting that he was just as terrified as you were.
“Do you want this? A baby?”
You tried to answer. It was the biggest decision of your life, and it felt like you had to make it in a matter of seconds. Tears started welling up in your eyes.
“I do. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know who to call or where to start.”
Simon cupped your face in his large hands, gently rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks in an attempt to calm you down. He was still scared, he still had no idea what he was doing. But he was sure of one thing, if he was going to do this with anyone… he wanted it to be with you. “We’ll just take it one step at a time, alright?”
A hundred thoughts raced through his mind. He didn't know what to do either. He'd have to tell Price, he'd have to tell the rest of the team, he had no idea how he was going to do that. And he'd be there when you told your mum, because he knew how she might react. And there was no way he was letting you go through that alone.
A few months later, everything was different.
Simon had become almost annoyingly protective, every time you stood up too quickly, he was already beside you, every time you carried something remotely heavy, it somehow ended up in his hands instead.
"Simon, it's just a grocery bag."
"Still."
You told your mum, and although she didn't take the news very well at first, Simon was there to explain that the two of you had everything under control and that he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to leave you to face this alone.
He also told the rest of the Task Force, they reacted much better than he'd expected. Price told him not to worry and even gave him a few pieces of advice of his own, he also informed Simon that he could take paternity leave a few months before the baby was due and stay home for a few months after the birth.
Simon thanked him, but he had already made up his mind, he wasn't going to miss a single moment. For once, there wasn't a mission in the world he'd rather go on.
He started doing things he never thought he would. One night, for example, you were fast asleep beside him. Simon glanced at your small bump and gently placed one hand on either side of your stomach. He murmured quietly, careful not to wake you.
"Don't give your mum too much trouble."
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized what he'd just done, he glanced around the room as if someone might have caught him talking to the baby.
As the weeks went by, your baby grew, and the kicks became stronger and more frequent.
"Simon."
"Hm?"
"Come here."
Thinking something was wrong, he rushed over to you, only to find you smiling and holding out your hand.
He gave it to you without hesitation. You took it and placed it on your belly. A second later, the baby kicked, Simon froze. He looked down at your stomach, then slowly placed his hand there again, waiting. Another kick, he stayed completely still, almost as if he were afraid to move.
Just making sure it was real, those little moments slowly became part of your everyday life.
And so did everything else that came with the pregnancy. Simon loved every part of it. Seeing you walk around the house with his baby growing inside you did something to him that he couldn't quite explain.
His favourite position when the two of you were intimate became lying on your sides, allowing him to hold your bump while staying as close to you as possible. Of course, only if you wanted to, but your pregnancy hormones often made it impossible to keep your hands off him.
One evening, you caught him standing in the nursery, the room wasn't finished yet. There were still boxes on the floor, a crib leaning against the wall waiting to be built, and tiny baby clothes neatly folded on a chair. Simon was just... looking.
"What are you doing?" you asked softly.
He looked over his shoulder.
"...Thinkin'."
"About what?"
He glanced around the room before looking back at you.
"I'm gonna be someone's dad."
You walked over to him and slipped your hand into his.
"You already are."
Simon looked down at your bump. A small kick met the palm of his hand, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"...Yeah."
Maybe he still didn't know what he was doing, maybe he never would, but the future didn't scare him as much as it used to.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Simon asked you as he sat up in front of you. His eyes were filled with worry. He knew something was wrong; he had already been feeling it for a few weeks. But this time, he found you crying in your shared room. He placed his scarred hands on your body, trying to figure out what was wrong with you, immediately scanning you to see if there were any injuries.
“I don’t know what’s wrong… I’ve been feeling like this for a while… I threw up… and my period’s late…”
Simon’s gaze hardened. Could this be true? Could you actually be pregnant? Well... yes. It could. He tried to calm himself down. It wasn’t like he didn’t want this to happen, but he was scared. He didn’t want to be like his father. He didn’t want to fail his child. He couldn’t let- No. This wasn’t only about him. You were the one feeling like this. And you needed him to be strong for both of you.
“Okay... when was your last period, love?”
“Two months ago... It was supposed to come last month, but it didn’t. At first, I thought it was normal, but this never happens to me.”
Simon began to panic. He started thinking about how this could have happened. You had both used protection, and you were on the pill. Oh. Oh, God, he remembered when it had happened. A reckless night after a night out with the TF141. You had both come home a little drunk and simply hadn't thought about using a condom.
“You should've told me sooner.”
“I know.”
“I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. I just don't want you dealing with something like this on your own.”
Simon’s mind went back to his childhood. To his father. To everything he had promised himself he would never become, he didn't know how to be a father. He barely knew how to be a husband, but he knew exactly what kind of father he didn't want to be.
“Simon, I don’t know what to do…”
“Hey, it’s okay... If you are pregnant, it will be your choice whether you want to keep it or not, okay? But we do need to be sure first. I’ll go buy you a test. You stay here.”
With that, he kissed you and left the house.
You stayed there, sitting on the bed, feeling scared and like none of this was real.
You and Simon weren't planning on becoming parents now. Hell, you had only gotten married three months ago. You wanted to enjoy your married life before having children. I mean, you had always wanted to be a mother, but you knew how Simon felt about being a father.
On the other hand, Simon was at the pharmacy trying to buy a pregnancy test, and he didn't even know which one to choose. Why were there so many? Why were there so many different brands? Would the brand or the price affect the results? All those questions crept into his mind. He didn't want a false result, so he bought three tests from the most expensive brand, just to be sure.
When Simon came back home, he rushed upstairs to find you in the same spot he'd left you, carrying a bag with the tests and, of course, some chocolate for you.
You both went into the bathroom because, of course, you weren't going to take the test without him by your side.
After taking it, Simon couldn't stop staring at the clock, and it was making you even more nervous.
“Stop staring at it.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“It's a clock.”
“Simon.”
Then he simply took your hand and didn't say anything, he just stayed there.
And after the three minutes had passed, you both finally looked at it.
You looked at the test, then at Simon. He immediately looked at you. Neither of you said anything. He didn't need to ask.
When price has to take his sweet, beloved baby to be vaccinated, he cries more than she does.
"It'll be okay, sweetpea, just be strong for dada, okay?" He rumbles, baby tucked to his chest in the exam room. She's so small and excited, wide eyes taking in the new room, no idea what's about to happen.
But price does, and it tears him up inside.
The nurse has the needle out, and price has to fight the urge to tuck his little girl against his chest and hide her away. Instead, he nods with his face already red in upset and forces out "okay. Do it."
The reaction is instant, baby's hands curling into fists and face twisting with a cry. Wet, innocent eyes turning to stare at her papa as if asking why he did that to her.
The rest of the day, price is inseparable with her.
Keeps her cuddled up in his arms or right in front of him, eye's glassy with remorse. Even when you point out how your daughter has clearly moved on, smashing her toy trains together, he just furrows his brows.
Maybe this was the first reminder.
That some thing's he can never protect from pain. Not even his daughter. Not even you.
When he comes home to an empty house, gutted and trashed with bullet holes in the plaster and no signs of you or his kid, he will think of that exam room.
How he had to hold his daughter in his arms and hurt her, seeing the needle long before she knew what it was.
i’m sorry but i need to have sex. i need to feel a cock throbbing deep inside me while i ride it desperately or get pounded as hard as possible. i need to clench helplessly around something pulsing inside me and feel it rub against my walls with every thrust until i’m shaking.
You were riding him, clenching your cunt around him, making the both of you see stars. Your face reflected pleasure and joy, which, combined with the sounds you were making, showed how much you were enjoying this.
Simon was obviously enjoying it too. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at you, admiring your features changing with pleasure and staring at the way your body moved when you were in control.
Sex with him was amazing; I know he probably doesn’t look like it, but he always checks on you and makes sure you’re comfortable with what’s happening.
“God, baby… keep moving like that.” “S-Simon… it feels so good.”
You kept moving on top of him and moaning like you were the only people left in the world, until your expression changed. Your face started showing something else that wasn’t quite pleasure anymore… it was pain.
“S-Simon… n-no…” But you kept moving because you didn’t want to ruin this for him, not when you knew he was about to cum. But at the same time, it felt wrong not to communicate to him what was going on.
Simon noticed. Noticed your expression and the change in your pace. He knew something was wrong right away; he didn’t even need to hear your whine.
“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” He placed his hands more firmly on your hips to keep you in place and stop you from moving. He didn’t care if he was about to cum; he would never keep going knowing that you were hurting.
“I don’t know… it started hurting.” At this point, your face was showing pain and discomfort, with the faint trace of a tear in your eye.
“Just stop moving, baby… it’s alright.” He signaled for you to stop and separate from him. When you did, you immediately moved your hand to where the pain was coming from to try and find what was wrong. He stopped you, thinking it might be an infection and fearing you’d make it worse by touching it.
“It’s okay… just lie down for me. Will you let me see what’s wrong?” He always treated you like a princess, even in situations like this where you would think he might be rough with you.
You lay down on your back. He sat on the bed in front of you and gently spread your legs apart for him to see, instantly moving his eyes to the area.
“Okay… it does look a bit swollen, doll.” He placed his hands around your red and inflamed pussy, not really touching the area but spreading the lips apart.
“I’m gonna touch you here, and you’ll tell me if it hurts, okay?” You just nodded. You trusted him with your own life, so you obviously didn’t mind him seeing you in such a vulnerable state.
He pressed his palm against your cunt. He wasn’t trying to penetrate you again; he just needed confirmation as to where it was hurting the most. He immediately looked at your face afterward.
“That doesn’t hurt; I think it’s inside where the problem is.” He nodded, agreeing with you, you knew your body better than anyone, after all. He gently inserted one finger inside you, but not too deep, just at the surface.
“Does that hurt?” His expression looked so determined; he wasn’t even thinking of this as a sexual interaction. He genuinely wanted to help you and wasn’t thinking of it as sex, nor was he trying to penetrate you again. If you told him it hurt, he would stop the session for good, at least for that day.
You shook your head. “No… go deeper.” You weren’t seeing this as something sexual either, nor were you trying to make him finger you.
He went deeper with his fingers, and that’s when you let out a little whine of displeasure. He instantly knew and took his fingers out.
“Okay… looks like you were moving too fast, baby. Let’s try to do it more gently next time, okay?”
You nodded your head. You were feeling a little embarrassed by this, but he wasn’t trying to make you feel that way.
“It’s alright. This can happen; it’s not your fault.” “But I wanna keep going.”
He smiled at this; he loved how much you desired him. It made him feel appreciated and loved, and he desired you just as much.
“I know, love, but it’s better if we stop for today, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you.”
He saw the disappointment on your face and decided he couldn’t let you down like this. So he thought he could do something else… something that didn’t require penetration to make you feel good and make you come.
He ate you out until you came twice in his mouth and screamed until your lungs gave up. He definitely knew how to make you feel good.
price who’s got you under him in the dim light of the bedroom, the heat of his body pressing you into the sheets, cock buried deep, moving in these slow, grinding thrusts that make your breath hitch every time he rocks forward.
thick head dragging against the walls of your cunt, making your toes curling against the backs of his thighs. can’t help but feel the way your fingers dig into his back, holding on tight. slick slide of sweat between your chests, pace that lets him savor every hot flutter and clench of your cunt around him.
soft little whimper that slips out when he angles just right and lingers there, grinding deep so you can feel the stretch and the heat of him pulsing against your walls before he pulls back slow.
mumbling against his mouth between one kiss and the next, lips brushing his as your voice comes out all hazy and wondering, asking what’s gotten into him because he’s never like this, never this gentle with it, never this sweet about the way he’s touching you and kissing you, tongue warm and familiar when he dips in to taste the question right off your lips.
and price just smiles into the kiss, that low warm rumble vibrating through his chest where it’s pressed tight to yours and right against your mouth as he answers without missing a single beat of those slow thrusts, can’t a man just appreciate his girl?
warmth of his palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking slow along your jaw while his hips keep that steady rhythm, deep and unhurried, letting you feel every thick inch of him dragging along your walls on every push, the heat building low in your belly with every grind.
body soft and pliant under him, melting when he kisses you slow and deep instead of biting at your throat, breath catching and fans warm across his lips. cunt fluttering hot and wet around him, squeezes like it’s trying to pull him in deeper, like it wants more of the slow drag and the way his pubic bone presses firm against your clit on every thrust.
eyes going soft and glassy when he tells you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how much he loves having you like this, the little tremor that runs through your thighs when he shifts and sinks even deeper.
keeps you close, chest to chest, one of your legs hooked high around his waist so he can grind in on every thrust, slick heat making the slide easier, wetter, the sound of it mixing with the low creak of the bed and his heavier breathing.
hand stroking down your side, your hip, your thigh, anywhere he can reach because he can’t seem to stop touching you, can’t get enough of the way your skin feels under his palm, warm and damp with sweat, the way you shiver when his calloused fingers brush over a sensitive spot.
doesn’t rush. doesn’t push you toward the edge with rough hands and filthy words. just loves you through it, slow and sweet, swallowing every little gasp and whimper you let out like they’re his favorite sounds, tasting the salt on your skin when he dips his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, your breast.
and when you start to tighten up around him again, body trembling as that slow building pleasure finally crests into something overwhelming, price just holds you through it. murmurs quiet little praises against your mouth about how good you are, how beautiful you look coming apart for him like this, how much he appreciates his girl.
the way your cunt pulses and ripples hot and tight around his cock in gentle waves that make his own breath catch. stays buried deep while you come around him, riding it out with those same slow rolls of his hips until you’re boneless and clinging to him, until the tight flutter of your cunt pulls his own release from him in warm, pulsing waves that fill you up and make you whimper at the fullness, the heat of it spreading inside you.
stays right there after, cock still nestled inside you, bodies pressed close and slick with sweat that cools in the air between you, kissing you lazy and sweet while you both float down from it, the taste of each other lingering on your tongues until you drift off to sleep.
later you stir when the mattress dips and the warmth at your back disappears, the soft sound of fabric rustling as price moves quiet through the room getting dressed.
can’t help the questioning noise that slips out of you when you blink awake and see him sitting on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots
he turns at the sound, that familiar low rumble in his chest as he leans over and presses a kiss to your temple, lips warm, beard scraping lightly against your skin, murmuring that he has an errand to run, go back to sleep love before you can even form the question properly.
the bed dips again when he stands, the door clicking shut soft behind him, and you drift back into sleep with the ghost of his kiss still tingling on your skin and the sheets still warm where his body had been.
only to wake the next morning to the violent crash of the front door being forced open, the wood splintering under the weight of booted feet as armed figures pour into the flat while you scream “what the hell” and scramble to yank the blanket up over your bare chest.
ghost following the men, moving silent through the space with the others, clearing rooms with heavy footsteps echoing off the walls and the sound of doors being shoved open while gaz takes one look at your state and heads straight for your closet, rifling through and pulling out clothes without asking.
kate stepping up to the side of the bed as you clutch the blanket tighter and demand answers, her voice calm but firm when she asks where price is.
telling her you don’t know, the words tumbling out in a rush, and demand to know what the hell this is about only for her to meet your eyes with a steady look and say “he’s wanted for questioning.”
“for what!?” you demand, voice sharp and panicking.
and she just looks down at you for several long seconds, the silence stretching thick in the air between you while the sounds of boots and doors continue in the other rooms, her expression unreadable as your heart pounds hard against your ribs and the blanket feels suddenly too thin against your bare skin, before she finally answers, voice even and steady, “the murder of general shepherd.”
The makers of Kinktober 2025 are back again with a brand new list! The graphics are once again created by latte-cucumber. Check out our AO3 collection, or keep reading for more information.
More information
Kinktober is a kinky October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.
If you have any questions, check our FAQs. Unfortunately, due to personal commitments, we won't be opening our askbox for questions this year. We've made it as rules-light as possible, though, so if your question is "Can I do this?", the answer is almost certainly yes!
It was a normal day at base. Everyone was chatting about the next mission, trying to guess what it was going to be about. Those few minutes before the briefing were always the worst, everyone was nervous, nobody knew whether the next mission would be a simple intel run or a suicide mission.
Price finally walked into the briefing room, immediately catching everyone's attention.
"Alright, people. I can already see the look on your faces. Relax. This isn't a difficult mission."
A collective sigh of relief echoed through the room.
"There's a gun-runner we need to get close to before the situation gets any worse. For reasons we're still trying to understand, he only trusts married couples."
Then Price looked directly at you, and then at Ghost.
"Congratulations. You're married."
Silence, complete silence, you genuinely thought he was joking.
"...Excuse me?"
Simon looked just as stunned as you.
"No."
Price didn't even blink.
"Not a question."
Soap burst out laughing and Simon immediately shot him a glare that would've killed anyone else. Could this actually be happening? To you?
"Captain," you began carefully, "with all due respect, I don't understand why you've paired Lieutenant Ghost and me for this mission. And, if I may speak for both of us... I don't think it's appropriate."
Price looked at you, then at Simon. There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, almost like he already knew this would work. How?
"I trust the two of you to pull this off. End of discussion."
With that, he walked out of the room, leaving you, Simon, Soap and Gaz behind, Soap started laughing again. Simon looked at you.
"We're not doing this."
"Apparently we are."
"Not gonna happen."
"Simon... it literally is happening."
"..."
"...Don't call me Simon."
"We're supposed to be married."
"..."
"Kinda hard to call you Lieutenant Ghost Riley in front of my fake in-laws."
"Damn, LT. You're gonna have to kiss your wee wife in front of everyone."
"Shut it, Johnny."
"So that's a yes?"
"I'll volunteer you for the next undercover mission in a dress."
Soap immediately stopped laughing.
"...Fair enough."
Price had also informed the two of you that he'd brief you later that afternoon with the details of your cover story. You hated that he'd called this an easy mission. Because this was going to be anything but easy.
Price asked the two of you to come to his office that afternoon to go over the details of the upcoming mission.
"Alright," he began, leaning back in his chair. "I know you're already unhappy with what you've heard so far. And I'm afraid you're going to like the next part even less."
Simon glanced at you before looking back at Price, trying to guess what he was about to say.
"You're going to have to learn everything about each other. Favourite colour. Birthdays. How you met. Where you 'live.' Family members. Little habits. Anything someone might ask. None of it has to be true. It just has to sound believable."
You let out a long sigh.
"God, Price... you really picked the worst person to pair Ghost with. Couldn't you have paired him with that girl from the comms room? The ginger one?"
Before Price could answer, Simon spoke.
"Don't like her."
You looked at him.
"Oh? And you like me?"
"No. But I'd rather pretend to be married to you."
For some reason, heat crept up your cheeks. That was... unexpected. You didn't have feelings for Simon, right? So why were you blushing?
Price noticed, of course he noticed, but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.
"Anyway," he continued, "you'll need a believable story. Where you met. How long you've been together. Who proposed. What your wedding was like."
You groaned.
"John, why are you making us think about all this?"
"Because if someone asks, you need an answer."
"What are the chances they'll ask us about our wedding?"
Price shrugged.
"You'd be surprised."
Simon stayed unusually quiet, his mind wandered for half a second, wedding, married, living together. He imagined it before he could stop himself.
No. Absolutely not. He forced himself back to reality.
"These people are suspicious," Price continued. "If your stories don't match, the whole mission falls apart."
Later that week, Soap had the time of his life coming up with ideas for your fake backstory.
"You met in Paris."
"No."
"Rome?"
"No."
"Tesco?"
You and Simon looked at each other.
"...Maybe."
Soap pointed at the both of you.
"I knew it! Nothing says romance like aisle seven."
You guys would spend the afternoons trying to make up a whole story for yourselves.
Simon would ask you:
"Favourite colour?"
"Green."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"Doesn't suit you."
"You don't get to choose my favourite colour!"
"It should be blue."
"Simon!"
"Favourite food?"
"Lasagna."
"Too complicated."
"What?"
"Say pasta."
"Lasagna IS pasta."
"Not everyone's gonna remember lasagna."
"Why are YOU making MY favourite food simpler?"
Now came the hardest part, you couldn't pretend to be married if you couldn't even touch each other. Price stood in front of the two of you, arms crossed.
"If you're pretending to be married, stop standing like strangers." You and Simon exchanged a glance. "You're going to practice."
Soap, who was leaning against the wall with Gaz, immediately grinned.
"Oh, this is gonna be good."
"Hold hands."
You slowly reached your hand out. Simon did the same, except… he was barely touching your fingertips.
You looked at him.
"...Seriously?"
"What?"
"You're holding my fingertips."
"It still counts."
"No, it doesn't."
Soap snorted. Price pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Again."
This time Simon actually intertwined his fingers with yours, his hand was warm, yours wasn't exactly steady either.
"Better," Price nodded. "Now stand closer."
You both took one awkward step.
"No. Closer."
Another step.
"No. Married couples don't stand like they're about to interrogate each other."
Soap burst out laughing. "He's got a point."
"Shut it, Johnny," Simon muttered.
"Simon," Price continued, "put your hand on her waist."
"No."
"Simon."
A long sigh escaped him before he finally rested his hand against your waist, very lightly, almost like he was afraid you'd break. You raised an eyebrow.
"Am I radioactive?"
"No."
"Then why are you touching me like I'm about to explode?"
Soap was practically crying with laughter now.
"Because he's scared."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
Price stepped forward with another sigh and without asking, he gently took Simon's wrist and moved his hand a little lower around your waist before guiding you a little closer together.
"There."
Neither of you moved, neither of you breathed.
"Better."
Your heart was beating far faster than you'd care to admit. You'd never realized just how tall Simon actually was until he was standing this close. Meanwhile, Simon was trying very hard not to think about how warm you felt beneath his hand.
It was… distracting, annoyingly distracting.
"Now," Price said, completely oblivious to the internal crisis the two of you were having, "look at each other."
You did, five seconds passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Neither of you said a word.
"This is painful to watch," Gaz muttered.
"Smile," Price ordered.
You smiled immediately.
Simon didn't.
"Ghost."
"I am smiling."
"No, you're not."
"I am."
"That's the same face you make when you're threatening someone."
Even you couldn't hold back a laugh, for the first time since the exercise had started, Simon's expression softened ever so slightly.
"There," Price pointed at him. "That. Do that again."
"I wasn't smiling."
"You were."
"I wasn't."
"You almost looked human."
Soap doubled over laughing. Finally, Price clapped his hands together.
"Last exercise."
You both looked at him with suspicion.
"Walk."
"What?"
"Walk together."
You started walking. Simon walked too fast. You slowed him down. Then you walked too slowly. He matched your pace without thinking. After a few steps, your hands were still intertwined, his hand still resting on your waist, and your footsteps naturally fell into rhythm.
Price smiled to himself.
"There you go."
Neither of you noticed, it was the first thing you'd done all afternoon that actually looked like a married couple.
The mission had finally begun. The two of you still needed to work on your "married couple walk," but thankfully, it was convincing enough. The gala was being held in one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. Everyone had dressed for the occasion.
You wore a burgundy evening gown that hugged your figure perfectly. It was elegant, simple, and somehow made you stand out without trying. Simon, meanwhile, was wearing a tailored black suit, you'd never seen him dressed like that before. It suited him, far too well. You quickly looked away before he noticed you staring.
The two of you were seated at a table with several wealthy businessmen. Including the gun-runner.
Everything was going surprisingly well. You laughed when you were supposed to. Simon spoke just enough to avoid looking suspicious.
Whenever someone addressed you as his wife, neither of you even flinched anymore. Maybe all that practice had actually paid off.
As the evening went on, one of the men beside Simon raised his glass.
"You've got yourself a beautiful wife."
"I know."
The answer came immediately, without hesitation, without even thinking.
The conversation carried on as if nothing had happened. But Simon had already stopped listening.
...What?
His eyes slowly shifted toward you, you were already looking at him, there was a hint of surprise on your face.
You looked away first. Heat crept up your cheeks. Simon cleared his throat and reached for his drink, pretending nothing had happened.
Inside, however… he couldn't stop replaying those two words in his head.
I know.
He hadn't said it because it was part of the mission, he hadn't said it because he was trying to stay in character.
He'd said it because it had come naturally. And it bothered him far more than it should have.
Suddenly, one of the men who had been eyeing the two of you all evening spoke up.
"You don't look like a married couple."
Your heart dropped. The table fell silent. You and Simon looked at each other.
He could tell by the look on your face that you were thinking the exact same thing he was, they were getting suspicious.
Simon glanced at you once more, almost like he was asking for permission. You gave the smallest nod, that was all he needed.
He reached up, gently cupped your cheek, and pulled you in.
His lips met yours. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't rough, just long enough to convince everyone around the table that this was something the two of you had done a thousand times before.
When he finally pulled away, neither of you moved.
You simply stared at each other. Neither of you seemed to remember there were still other people sitting at the table.
The silence only lasted a second, then one of the men laughed.
"Alright," he said, raising his hands. "I believe you."
The conversation resumed as if nothing had happened, but for the two of you… nothing felt quite the same anymore.
Funny. No one at that table had any idea...that they'd just witnessed your first kiss.
Everything felt different after that.
You tried to focus on the conversations around you, answering the questions people asked, but your mind kept replaying the kiss.
Simon adjusted his suit jacket even though there was nothing wrong with it. He just needed something to do.
Neither of you mentioned the kiss. You simply carried on as if it had never happened.
When you returned to base, everything felt... different.
The mission couldn't have gone any better. By the end of the dinner, you and Simon had earned the gun-runner's trust completely. The moment he let his guard down, Price gave the signal.
Within seconds, the Task Force stormed the building. The room erupted into chaos.
Orders were shouted, weapons were drawn.
And only a few minutes later, the gun-runner and the rest of his organization were in handcuffs.
The mission was over.
When you returned to base, everything felt... different. You didn't have to pretend to be Simon's wife anymore, you didn't have to hold his hand, you didn't have to kiss him, you didn't have to share a hotel room with him.
The mission was over.
Everything should've gone back to normal. Instead, it felt strangely... empty.
You caught yourself looking for him after briefings, slowing your pace without realizing it, almost expecting him to fall into step beside you.
Sometimes, you'd even turn around to tell him something only to remember he wasn't there.
Simon wasn't doing much better.
More than once, he found himself making two cups of tea without thinking. Only after reaching for the second mug did he stop.
You weren't there.
The mission had ended weeks ago.
So why was he still making tea for you? Because for weeks, making tea for the both of you had simply become routine.
He frowned, poured the extra cup down the sink, and told himself to stop being ridiculous. It happened with other things, too.
He'd slow down when walking through the corridors, unconsciously matching the pace you'd always walked at, he'd glance toward your usual seat in the briefing room before realizing you weren't supposed to be sitting next to him anymore. It was... irritating.
Soap, of course, noticed every bit of it.
One afternoon, he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Simon absentmindedly place two mugs on the counter once again.
He didn't say anything at first.
He just waited until Simon noticed what he'd done.
"...Shut up," Simon muttered.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
Soap smirked.
"You know..." He nodded toward the second mug. "You two were more convincing after the mission than during it."
Simon looked down at the tea, then quietly slid the second mug back into the cupboard. He didn't answer.
For the first time in a long while, Johnny had nothing to tease him about.
Because Simon wasn't sure the mission had ever really ended.
Do you think you'll ever do a longer story? (I think you should🤭)
Aww, thank you! I definitely will! 🤭 I already have an idea in mind, and I've been developing it and writing down whatever I feel will work. I'm a little busy this week since it's finals week for me, but as soon as it's over, I promise I'll let you guys see what I've been working on!! 🥹💕
Thinking about ghost who occasionally babysits for single mom!reader during his leave, right?
It was a simple arrangement born of ghost dying to try that chicken you cook every weekend, and you needing someone to watch your little girl at the park while you worked. First, you were scared it wouldn't work out, either ghost wouldn't click or your daughter wouldn't like him.
Turns out ghost loves taking care of kids, and your sweet girl loves having 'Mr Simon' around.
Which is how ghost is woken up at near six in the morning by incessant knocking one day.
You stand in his doorway, face burning in embarrassment while your little girl waves up at him excitedly "Mr simon!!! Mr simon it's me!! Happy father's day!!"
Ghost is too shocked to do anything other than take the paper, with macaroni shapes glitter-glued into the word 'dad' with a bit heart around it. He glances at the paper, then down at your beaming daughter, then at you.
"I'm really sorry, it's so early–" you try to apologize, hoping to get your daughter back to your apartment before she thoroughly embarrasses you "but she was so excited. I hope it's no trouble—"
"...I'm not a father?" Ghost tilts his head, because of course he can dismantle a rifle in ten seconds but can't pick up cues.
"No!!" Pumpkin yells from down by his knees, having already latched on like the clingy thing she is "you're my dad!! Because mom looooovessss you!!! She told the voice on the phone so!"
The voice on the phone being your friend you call every Tuesday while your sweet pea is supposed to be napping.
"That so?" Ghost mumbles, eye's wide. You watch the deep blush spead from his face all the way down his neck, silently dying inside the whole time.
"Yeah!! And she told the phone voice you're gonna give me a little brother—" you gasp, haul your child up and quickly cover her mouth, wondering if moving countries is really that hard.
"Uhm. Ignore that, she's young and doesn't understand things—" you rush out, backing up to your apartment while you talk. "Uhm, sorry for waking you! Okaybye!!"
"Huh." Ghost blinks.
The macaroni art is the only thing pinned up on his wall. Right above his bed.
Can I request Simon x lawyer!reader? 🥺 A woman who bites back, not staying silent or getting scared of him??? WHO WILL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SIMON!!! 😩
I LOVE THIS IDEA of course I'll make it for you <33 thank you sm for the request!!!
Simon x lawyer!reader
Simon had dealt with terrorists. Bombs. Interrogations. Near-death experiences. But nothing could've prepared him for you angry. Not because you screamed. Not because you cried. No.
Because you argued. And God, did you argue.
"You know what your problem is?"
Simon crossed his arms.
"Apparently I'm about to find out."
"You think being grumpy counts as communication."
"It does."
"No, it doesn't."
"It does."
"It absolutely does not."
Simon sighed.
"Love-"
"No. Don't 'love' me. You're not getting out of this."
He almost smirked. Almost.
Because despite the finger pointed at his chest and the fire in your eyes, he couldn't help but admire you.
Most people got nervous around him. Most people lowered their voice. Most people backed down.
Not you. Never you.
"You ignored me all week and then acted surprised when I was upset."
"Didn't ignore you."
"Oh really? Then let's review the evidence."
Christ. The evidence. He was done for.
"Monday. I asked if you wanted to have dinner with me."
Silence.
"Tuesday. You came home and went straight to bed."
He looked away.
"Wednesday. I asked you what was wrong and you said, and I quote, 'Nothin'.'"
He winced. You pointed accusingly.
"And Thursday?"
"Do I have to answer?"
"Yes."
He grunted.
"No."
"Correct. Because you forgot."
He rubbed his face.
"This feels like an interrogation."
"I'm a lawyer. You married a lawyer. That's on you."
You kept talking. Still upset. Still beautiful. And Simon realized something. You weren't scared. You weren't intimidated. You weren't walking away. You were angry because you cared.
Because you wanted him. Because you expected better from him. And somehow, that scared him more than any battlefield ever had.
Because he knew how easy it would've been for you to stop trying. To stop arguing. To stop caring.
Instead, there you were. Finger pointed at his chest. Giving him the biggest lecture of his life. And all Simon could think was:
Christ. She's beautiful.
"You listening to me?"
"Aye."
"No, you're not."
"Aye, I am."
"What did I just say?"
Simon looked down at you. And despite himself, he smiled.
"You said I was an idiot."
"You are an idiot."
"Aye."
"And?"
"And I forgot dinner."
"And?"
"And I've been avoiding talking."
"And?"
"And you're right."
You froze.
"Excuse me?"
"You're right."
"Simon Riley, did you just admit I was right?"
"Don't make me say it again."
Your anger cracked immediately. He saw the smile threatening to appear on your lips.
"There it is," he muttered.
"There what is?"
"That smile."
You rolled your eyes.
"I hate you."
"Liar."
And before you could continue your argument, he pulled you into his arms. Still grumbling. Still annoyed.
Still muttering about how impossible he was. And Simon just held you closer, hiding his smile in your hair. Because after everything he'd been through, after everyone he'd lost. He'd gladly get lectured by you for the rest of his life.
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