Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
[Genre: Soft / Fluff]
Summery:
Ghost gets scolded over incomplete mission paperwork and leaves the office looking like a guilty puppy afterward.
The fluorescent lights in the briefing room buzzed softly overhead, cold and sharp against the otherwise quiet base. Papers were scattered across the desk in front of you, mission reports half-sorted beside a mug of coffee that had long gone cold.
And standing in front of your desk like a reprimanded schoolboy was none other than Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley.
“You didn’t finish the extraction report,” you said flatly, flipping through the folder. “Page six is missing, your signatures are incomplete, and the intel summary is practically unreadable.”
Simon stood there in full tactical gear, skull mask still on, broad arms folded behind his back like he was being court-martialed.
“You expect Laswell to approve this?”
A low grunt came from behind the mask. “Mission ran long.”
“And?” You looked up at him over the edge of the file. “That’s not an excuse. You know the procedure.”
The room went quiet.
Soap, who had been pretending very hard to organize equipment nearby, slowly backed toward the door. Gaz suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. Price took one glance at Simon standing there getting verbally shredded and muttered, “Right. Tea sounds good about now.”
The door clicked shut behind them.
Cowards.
You sighed sharply and dropped the file onto the desk. “Simon, I had to stay up until two in the morning reorganizing your paperwork.”
His shoulders somehow sank lower.
“And do you know what Laswell said to me this morning?” you continued.
Silence.
“She asked if Task Force 141 had collectively forgotten how to read.” That finally earned a tiny reaction. Simon tilted his head downward slightly, almost sheepish.
Honestly, if anyone else in the world saw the infamous Ghost standing there looking guilty, they’d never believe it.
“You’re better than this,” you said, softer now but still stern. “Fix it by tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The response came automatically.
Professional.
Obedient.
And completely unfair considering how ridiculously attractive his voice sounded when he was being scolded.
You waved him off before your composure slipped.
“Dismissed.”
Simon nodded once and turned toward the door.
His heavy boots thudded quietly against the floor as he left, shoulders slightly hunched.
Like a giant, depressed attack dog.
The second the door shut—
You broke.
A smile spread across your face instantly as you leaned back in your chair, trying not to laugh.
God.
Your husband was such a disaster sometimes.
You pressed your fingers against your mouth, shaking your head fondly.
Because the truth was Simon Riley only acted like this with you.
The terrifying Ghost—the man who made enemies piss themselves during interrogations—had just stood in your office getting lectured over paperwork like he was caught skipping homework.
And the worst part?
He actually listened.
A knock interrupted your thoughts.
Soap poked his head into the room carefully like he was approaching a live grenade. “…Can I come in, or are ye still skinning Lt. alive?” You snorted softly.
“He’ll survive.”
Soap stepped inside, looking deeply amused. “Ye know he walked into the cafeteria lookin’ like someone kicked his dog?” Your smile widened despite yourself.
“Did he?”
“Aye. Sat down all grumpy. Wouldn’t even steal Gaz’s chips.”
That nearly made you laugh outright.
Soap narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “…Hold on.” He pointed between you and the closed door. “Ye enjoyed that.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mhm.”
You turned back to the paperwork, hiding your grin.
────୨ৎ────
Across the base, Simon sat in the cafeteria staring down at a cup of coffee like it had personally betrayed him.
Soap dropped into the seat across from him. “She’s still scary, eh?”
Simon exhaled slowly through his nose. “Shut up.”
“Got told off by yer own wife.”
Another long silence.
Then Simon muttered, almost offended, “She smiled after I left.”
Soap blinked. “…What?”
“She thinks I didn’t notice.” And despite the exhausted look in his eyes, Simon’s mouth twitched faintly beneath the skull mask.
Because after years of war, bloodshed, and near-death missions—
Getting scolded by you still somehow felt domestic.
And Simon Riley would take domestic over hell any day.