simon riley and his missus both quite smoking at the same time. something about dying of old age in each others arms rather than from some tobacco induced illness.
but you have one, together, every year.
like clockwork, on your anniversary, he fucks you like he's trying to merge your bodies together - foreheads touching, his cock buried inside you so deep there's nowhere left for him to go. then he rolls onto his back, pulls you against his broad, scarred chest and lights up a marlborough red so you can pass it back and forth between you; careful not to get ash on the covers.
it's a reminder, really, of the night you met in the smoking area in the pub just off base. the night he took you home and fucked you like he never wanted to be apart from you again for the very first time.
You came into the bedroom just as Simon started scrubbing the polish off his nails. He was being rough, scrubbing the surface with jerky motions and shaking hands. You had noticed the tension when you got home, the way he hid his hands from you when you gave him a kiss hello.
"Oh, did she paint your nails?" You chuckle happily when you had noticed the shakily applied polish. "It's not half bad for a four year old." You continue, placing a kiss on his cheek. Simon didn't acknowledge it, not even with his usual gruff grunt. You approach him slowly, covering both his trembling hands with yours.
"Simon?"
"Yeah, love?" There it was. That tightness in his tone from holding back tears, hands slowly turning so your palms press together.
"What's wrong with the nail polish?" You probe softly, lowering your head until you catch his eyes. "I think it looks very nice." You didn't know why you were talking so softly, but he was responding to it, squeezing the damp cotton ball between two fingers.
"It's not for boys." You don't respond to that, slowly moving one hand up to his face.
"You can like what you like, baby. I don't mind." You assure, but you notice a grimace cross his face. His shoulders draw up slightly, gaze dropping to your hand in his. "Oh.."
Simon squeezes your hand, eyes shutting when tears start welling up. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry, I won't make you love me when I'm like this - when I'm so sick -" Your heart drops, cradling her face in your hands.
"Sick!? No, no, you aren't sick. Baby, look at me. Please, look at me." Simon slowly opens her eyes, head dropping into your reliable hands. "Are you... Do you want to transition? Is that what you're feeling?"
"I don't know. I haven't..." Her chest hitches nervously, glancing down guiltily at the nails she'd already cleaned. "What if I do?"
"That's okay. More than okay." You assure her as you clean her face. "I love you, Simon. All of you. Even if you change... Even if you're my wife." Your voice cracks slightly as you swipe away a tear.
"I know this is a little confusing, but if you have questions, you can always let me know." Your daughter looks between you and her Mommy, little gears turning in her head.
"So, Daddy feels better as Mommy?" She asks innocently, her little hand gripping Simon's much bigger one.
"Yes, baby. She's going to start looking and sounding a little different, but she still loves you very much." You rub Simon's back softly, watching her for any signs of panic.
"Mommy looks happy." Your daughter declares, a proud smile on her face. "Mommy happy?"
"Yes, baby." Simon whispers, voice cracking as she picks up your little girl. "Mommy's happy."
Thinking about ghost who typically hates Halloween, right?
Shocking, considering the guy wears a Halloween decoration everyday, but he hates all the social interaction. Strangers knocking on his door, begging for sweets. He'd rather decorate for a day or two, enjoy his night alone, and call it a day.
So why is he going all-out to try and attract the most trick-or-treaters this year?
Because you're participating this year. You, the single parent across the street who he maybe-kinda wants to invite on a date but hasn't figured out how yet. Thus...decorating. anything to get a conversation started, right?
"Alright sweetie, go ahead and knock," ghost hears your voice across the door. He's been hovering since he spotted you and your daughter three houses down. Three knocks, and he opens the door–
"Trick or treat!!! Guess what I am!!" Your little one squeals, holding her bucket decorated like an acorn up to him.
"Sweetie, you need to wait for treats first–" you try to tell her, knowing she'll get tok disappointed and forget to get candy if the stranger can't guess.
Ghost takes one look at her and nods "proper weevil, innit. Good costume, kid."
"Yes!!! Yes I'm a weevil! You got it right!!" She yells, hopping in place in pure joy, cheeks no-doubt hurting from the force of her smile. Finally, she looks around at his house, then back up at you "can I go look at the big skeleton?"
"Yes, yes, go ahead." You smile at her, checking that no one's waiting. Thin about having little ones is you always beat the Halloween rush. Then, you smile at ghost "thank you. No one's been able to guess her costume, and she was about ready to quit."
"'S a good costume," ghost nods to himself, "she a fan of bugs?"
"Oh, it's all she talks about!" You laugh, that fond laugh all parents have for their children "she's in love with all things crawly."
"....oi've got beetles, if she wants to see 'em."
Which is how a bowl with a hastily scrawled "take one" is left on the porch, meanwhile your daughter is about ready to explode when ghost lets her hold Betty, his Hercules beetle.
"You wouldn't mind if she comes back, would you?" You whisper, both of you stood back while she stares in awe at his centipede enclosure "you're the first person able to keep up with her bug talk."
Ghost smiles. May not be the dinner date he was expecting, but somehow it's better.
Now imagine ghost who talks you through it more to reassure himself than you.
"Hold on, lovie," Ghost's been working you open for what felt like hours, one arm braced next to your head and the other pumping three fingers into your hole.
Only after you had begun mewling and scratching at his bicep did he sit back and notch his tip against your entrance.
"Fuck, okay." Ghost inhales, eyes heavy with lust. The muscles under his skin coiled tight and ready to pounce. "Deep breath, biiiig stretch–"
Ghost times his thrust with his words, carefully drawn out. Like he's keeping himself in pace when all he wants to do is shove in and ravage you. The thick head of his cock nudging so deep you almost try to get away from it–
"No, you can handle it—" hot hands on your waist, pulling you down.
They squeeze tight for only a moment then fly up to grip the headboard instead. The wood creaks under his strength. Ghost shudders above you, cock twitching while he groans. "You can take it love, just be good, yeah? Mghh okay, nice and slow–"
As if ghost isn't just trying to keep himself in check. Remind himself that you're not some toy and he could easily break you. He just needs to take it slow, let you warm up, even if he wants nothing more than to hold you tight and fill you with cum.
Not like you make it easy, thrashing under him like a trapped animal. Mouth open in pleasure and hips working in small circles. Ghost wants to grind you between his teeth, wants to keep you all to himself, wants to have you like no one else can.
"Okay, it's okay, just hold on–" he grunts, head dipping down until his lips brush the thin skin of your neck. He presses a kiss to the junction instead of teeth.
Feels you come apart under him, clenching tight, legs shaking. He has to grind his teeth to stop from losing control, practically growling above you while his cock jerks and spills into the condom.
"Good job, lad." Ghost knocks his tip forehead against yours before making a swift retreat to grab a towel.
Simon had always wanted her mama to paint her nails. She knew better, she never did, even when her sons wide longing eyes got wet with tears. "Wanna be pretty too, Mama. I'm a pretty girl, like you."
"Don't you ever say anything like that ever again, Simon. You are a boy, and that's final." She had warned angrily, a tight grip on her upper arm. "You aren't a girl. Say it."
"I'm not a girl." She whispered back, not understanding why her Mama was so mad.
"Daddy?" Simon blinks back to the present, looking down at his hands. "You okay?"
"Yeah... jus' thinking. Nails look good, baby." He assures his daughter, trying to ignore how the pink sparkle polish his fingers shake.
simon can see that johnny is struggling. demons feasting on the darkness in his mind. so simon invites johnny somewhere good (now johnny wants to fuck simon's pregnant wife)
ghoap x reader
warnings: johnny is depressed, vague talk of suicide
johnny doesn't quite know what to expect when he pulls up to the address ghost gave him. if you need help. that was the only explanation offered to him when ghost gave him the piece of paper.
but this is nice. a two story house hidden behind neatly trimmed hedges. a wooden white gate, the paint chipping away. the plastic play set in the yard, well used. the path he walks on is clean of any leaves or cut grass, clean enough that johnny bets it's been recently scrubbed.
johnny keeps going, towards the porch and the front door. the porch has no cobwebs covering it, like whoever lives here has far too much time for outside maintenance.
johnny steps up to the front door and knocks.
he doesn't expect any of the sounds he hears when he knocks. a dog barking, a child screaming with glee, a gentle coming! before the door is pulled open.
for a second, he thinks he's got the wrong house. you're the epitome of softness, a pretty, flowery dress, a blue and white checkered apron lined with ruffles, and a bump that looks ready to pop.
(you're not ready to pop. actually, you're just carrying more than one and you're ready to kill your husband over it).
your smile is so warm when you look at him. his muscles relax and his mind quietens for the first time in a long while. "can i help you?" you ask him, voice sweet like honey.
johnny clears his throat. he stops looking at your face, instead looking at your carefully painted baby blue nails. for just a moment, he wonders if it's a clue as to what you're carrying.
his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "is simon riley here?" he asks.
your eyes seem to sparkle at that. "oh!" you cry, and johnny dares to look at you. "you must be johnny! wait right here."
you retreat into the house, leaving the door ajar like you know and trust him. but you don't. you have no idea who he is, just what ghost has told you. but still, you left the door open.
johnny wants to push it open some more. to reveal this secret perfect life ghost has been keeping from him, from all of them.
because this, the pregnant wife, the kids running around, the dog barking somewhere in the background, is everything johnny has ever wanted.
johnny hears ghost before he sees him. the lumbering footsteps that sound like they should shake the whole house. "daddy!" a little girl cries, and johnny wants to imagine ghost playing the part, but he just can't.
but ghost doesn't pull open the front door. simon riley did. without the mask, scars on display, blonde hair sticking up in all directions. but the most striking thing is the little girl on his hip, sucking her thumb like she's blanketed in complete safety.
"christ, LT," johnny says before he can stop himself. the little girl gasps and goes to cover her ears. "you got it pretty good here."
simon looks around and nods. "yeah, i do," he answers and tips his head, gesturing for johnny to follow him.
johnny does, pushing the front door shut behind him.
the inside of the house is lovely, too. plants and kids toys everywhere. every sofa has an array of cushions and blankets. there's enough dog beds for johnny to wonder how many dogs you've got.
simon puts the little girl down and she runs through the house, out to the garden. "full of beans at that age," simon says as he leads johnny through the house.
they stop at the kitchen, where you're making enough sandwiches to feed a small army. simon reaches for you, settles his hands on your waist and pulls you into him.
hearing your laugh, standing there as a spectator, feels so wrong to johnny. but what else can he do?
simon whispers something in your ear and you nod. "I'll make up the spare room after lunch," you say and simon kisses your shoulder. "what would you like for dinner, johnny?"
johnny shakes his head. "whatever's fine," he says as simon moves over to the fridge. it's covered in magnets and drawings, not an inch of actual door to be seen. simon pulls it open and grabs two beers from inside the door.
johnny follows Simon outside. the back garden is gorgeous, too. a little swing set, a furniture set surrounding a fire pit. somehow, johnny can imagine you put here with simon, tucked against his side with the fire burning in front of you while the kids are asleep upstairs.
the little girl from before swings on the swing set while a little boy rides his trike around. simon picks him up as he comes zipping past, knocking the trike over and hoisting him up onto his hip.
"papa!" the little boy shrieks. he kicks his legs excitedly and simon presses a kiss to the top of his head.
"say hello to papas friend," he says and nods towards johnny.
the little boy waves his hands. "hello mister!" he says and simon puts him down. he's immediately on his trike and riding away.
"my entire fuckin' world, those two," simon mumbles as he sits on the garden sofa. there's an umbrella, but it's not open.
"got another on the way?" johnny asks, like he didn't notice your swollen belly.
simon chuckles and opens his beer (a corona, the lime forgotten about). "two, actually," he says and stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, leaving a space for you.
johnny takes the seat opposite. "thanks for this, LT," he says quietly, looking around the garden. at the greenhouse, at the flower garden, at the vegetable patch. he looks towards the house, at you in the kitchen window, at the dog guarding the back door. "you've got it good out here."
"I do," simon agrees. he's got it real good. good wife, good kids, good life. "thought you could use a bit of it, johnny."
his throat burns as he nods. "yeah," he answers.
he'd kept himself so guarded, protected those around him from his own mind. and he thought he saw that in ghost. he does see that in ghost.
but ghost isn't in front of him. simon riley is. simon riley has everything.
"you've not got the mask on," johnny says.
simon chuckles. "wife doesn't like it," he says. "don't want the kids to see it, either."
they drink as the kids play, chatting about anything that isn't work (you've got a rule. no work talk while the kids are awake). at some point, you brought over a bowl of cut up fruit. the kids joined the three of you, snatching pieces of fruit and feeding it to the dog at your feet.
it really is a little slice of heaven. the kids asking him questions, pointing at his tattoos, asking how he knows their daddy. your little girl, trinity, stood for a full minute, explaining to concept of twins to him. it's sweet and relaxing and everything johnny needs.
"okay, my munchins," you say as you stand up. you pick up the now empty bowl and head towards the house, the dog at your feet and the children behind you.
simon's got this sickeningly loving look on his face, a look johnny should never get to see. but he does and it's lovely.
"you're gonna get to see bed time," simon says and finishes his beer. "it's always fun with those two."
johnny let's himself smile. "can't wait," he says and looks up at the sky. "your wife is gorgeous, LT," he mumbles.
"yeah," he agrees and looks at him. "she's really something. fucking horny, too. you know, pregnancy and all that. 's been amazin'."
Johnny's eyes widen. "huh," he says, finishing his beer.
"yup." they're both staring at the house, at you in the kitchen. "she'd probably be down to let you fuck her."
johnny nearly chokes. "seriously?!"
"seriously," simon answers. he stands up and, for a second, johnny thinks he's gonna pet his head (and he likes it). "just gotta stick around."
You look from your place in bed, glasses almost sliding off of your nose. You glance around the room once before pointing at yourself. Simon gives you a dead-serious nod of his head, drilling holes into you with his eyes.
“Huh, what’d I do, Si?”
“All that. I’m tellin’ you t’ stop bein’ a tease.”
You take yourself into account. You are sitting in bed in your ugly, mismatched pajamas, reading a book with everything about you totally undone. You were just nodding off when he walked in. What’s Simon on about?
“I’m-… Are we playing around? Joking? I don’t get it.” You’re about as un-sexy as you can be.
He huffs and walks up to the edge of the bed, reaching under the covers to wrap a large hand around your ankle and pull you to the edge, locked under his gaze as blankets crowd around you. “Look at ya, love. Quit playing games.”
You finally find it in you to laugh at his ambiguity, watching the corners of his mouth quirk. He shifts on his feet uncomfortably, tightening his grip around your ankle. “I don’t understand. I’m very unattractive right now. Startlingly so.”
“Don’t say tha’.” He mutters, leaning over to shove his face into the crook of your neck, humming in relief as he presses into you. You wrestle your arms free to throw around him, curling into his heavy body. The moment goes on sweetly until his hips roll lazily against you, exhaling shakily.
PT2 to my neglected beta!reader x toxic 141 (excluding simon), gn!reader
WC: 7.7k part 1 here
Simon thought Johnny was bad enough getting into his head and convincing him to indulge in an actual friendship for once. It didn't help either that getting along with Kyle was as easy as making a remark and laughing together over it. The team created a perfect dynamic, almost unstoppable.
Then came you.
You were always hanging around them, fitting in easily, practically always smiling at his jokes even on missions. Maybe a snide remark back here or there, but it was never more— always balanced. He supposed it was in your nature, as a beta and all, to be perfectly in between like that. Not that Simon was the one to pay much mind to societal matters like that anyway— the battlefield was very different to social gatherings, and the only language he knew was that of violence. It wasn't like he couldn't get by either; it felt like everyone grew up with that small talk ingrained in them from the start. The weather, the latest mission, annoying recruits, the bloody royal family if he really had to.
So, when he started to notice the change around you, he decided to stay out of it. It was plain obvious you felt disappointed when Johnny got an omega, Simon felt a little pang even if he didn't want to. But he didn't know what that feeling meant, and he sure as hell wasn't going to call you out on it. So, he didn't.
Then it was Kyle, and your scent only grew even more sour. Still, you didn't show it on the outside, so he chose not to comment on it again. He probably never would’ve really— after all, who wants to be ‘comforted’ by someone who can't even fix himself?
When the Sergeants hung out, you were no longer in their little circle, always off somewhere else. He asked Johnny once, why you hadn't gone to watch a movie with them, only for him to just blink at Simon. “Oh— them? Guess we kinda just forgot to invite them. We’re not that close, an’ we got an omega ‘n all now.”
Is that what happens? When an alpha gets an omega? They forget everything they ever knew and just.. lock in on that? Still, Johnnys relationship with him never changed, not like he did with you. Something was wrong about all of this but what was he supposed to do, force the Scot to hang out with you again? This wasnt bloody nursery, besides, matters like this meant nothing with the weight of the nation placed on the team. Well, rather on the four alphas, since he soon learnt you were being taken off their shared missions too. For the first time, he faltered during the briefing with Price.
“You’re not bringing them for this one?” He heard about you being taken off of Johnny’s but this was a whole team mission with your file not in it.
“We have to spread resources efficiently. Technically we dont need them anymore, with two mated alphas. They’ll be placed with the extraction team.”
Ghost wasn't stupid, he knew that part of the reason for you being on the team was because of the regulation effects of having a beta on an all alpha team– it’s the same bias that got him into the SAS anyway. Omega’s never got this high in ranks either. But that’s exactly it, it’s meant to be a part of the reason not enough to throw you off an op.
“When we need to go solo, they’ll be on that op. It’s not that bad, Ghost.” Price reassures him, and all he can do is sigh and nod along. He already anticipated how your scent would tighten upon the news, a hint of sadness seeping in. This time he couldn't help himself– this was something he knew. So, he immediately secured your place the second he received orders of his mission, stationed beside him like you belonged. He’d always been able to recognise the change in scent, from the smallest degree, something that was forced into him at a young age. This time, it was clear you were much happier like this, beside one of the 141, on a mission, doing something.
That he could definitely relate to. He’s no stranger to feeling out of control when he can't contribute to an objective.
Having you beside him had a much better effect than he perceived anyway. Not only were you skilled and efficient, but he felt he just worked better beside you. And so he decided to set up a trip to the pub— give you a chance to hang out with Kyle and Johnny too. He was convinced that they had just gotten to in their heads with their new omegas– a honeymoon phase he supposes.
He kicked himself for not saying more at that fiasco, not forcing Johnny to regret those cruel comments in the moment. But you had already retreated back to your barracks at the end of the night, and he was left staring at your closed door with a chest aching with regret he hasnt felt since he was far smaller. The next day he hounded Johnny until he went to apologise to you, listening from the other side of the door in hopes that’d be enough. Still, he had figured you might’ve still been annoyed after yesterday, wouldn't even blame you really, but instead the acceptance was one of a prey who stopped fighting. It didn't satisfy the wound in his heart even for a second.
“Why have you denied my team for the next mission?” He stands before Price’s desk, an anger boiling in his chest that he hasn't felt for years. He swore to himself he wouldnt let his happen again.
“You know I'm mated, Simon–”
“But i’m not.” His palms press on the desk as he stares at his Captain, the man who gave him a reason to keep going ever since this force had started. But he cant defend this, not when he’s taking away your purpose. “Price..”
“If i dont do it now, they’ll force my hand later. It’s a better opportunity for them to work with other teams too–”
“Bullshit.” He knows there’s no more arguing when Price gives him that look. It’s not like you’d be happy in your new omega team– he wouldn't be surprised if you grew envious of them from how their existence had thrown you out of the entire team. He knows something violent would burst if it happened to him.
————-
There’s a heavy haze on your mind when you try to blink your eyes open, like it’s muddling all your thoughts into one. You’re extremely hungry.
A small groan escapes you and when you finally open your eyes, it’s like they’re forced to droop. You can feel dried stains on your cheeks which explains why your eyes feel tired themselves. What happened?
There’s a small rumble behind you, startling you but you hardly have control of your body right now so there’s not much you can do but blink in confusion. The last thing you remember is training for the mission with the team, and by the pain rippling across your body, something must’ve happened during it. Still, your chest doesnt pump with fear, in fact you feel calm, like your body is well aware that you’re safe wherever you are.
Again, you try to move, inhaling a sharp breath as you force yourself onto your back. The pain is instant and you have to breathe out slowly as if you dont feel like there’s tears across your arms. When you finally sober up, you stop scrunching your eyes so tight and finally notice the weight next to you. Or rather.. around you.
“W-what the—?”
———
He had woken up to the feeling of you shuffling beneath his arm, but the muffled pained sound is what made his eyes snap open. It takes him a few moments to realise the predicament he had found— or rather put himself— in last night. One arm draped across your stomach protectively with his nose pressed as close to you as he could manage.
“You’re up early.” He glances at the clock behind you, sat on the dresser, the early time of eight am flashing beside ‘Saturday’. Even though he knows he should be questioning why he’s even doing this, his body feels strangely at ease. It’s even better than the day after a successful op.
“Lieutenant.. why are we in bed?” You croak out, trying to sit up from the embarrassment of it all but his arm tightens to keep you from going too far. It startles you, against his intentions, leaving you even more confused than before. “Wasnt i on a mission..? And— and there was a hostage.. is she alright? Did anyone else get seriously hurt—”
“Mission went sideways ‘cause of a bomb strapped to a hostage, everyone’s out alright. You got the brunt of the damage saving them, the rest of them are already going home safe.”
His alpha isnt as fiery as he remembers it the night prior, the ache in his chest now a warm thrum with you so close. Still, you look uncomfortable, and that hurts his alpha more than being away from you. So he pulls away, letting you sit yourself upright against the headboard.
You take a long breath of relief at his words of reassurance, and he can only assume it’s your own instinctive need to keep others safe. “And how I ended up here..?”
“You had surgery to remove shrapnel and a stray bullet that skimmed you. When you woke, the anaesthesia had you terrified, flailing about like a fish outta water.” He murmurs, gesturing towards the bandages peeking out from the hospital gown you still wore. It had ridden up in the night and now showed the gauze and bandages wrapped around your middle. There were some on your calves as well and the way you wince he supposes you realised about the one on your back.
“They called me in to help stabilise you— figured you’d recognise me. You did, calmed down a bit and then..” He trails off for a moment and you look up at him curiously, watching as he leans back against the headboard. He pauses, unsure whether to tell you about what you had confessed to him in your drugged state. “Jus’ started crying… not sure what about.” He swallows and then glances back down to you. “And well, y’know how we’d get, when another got injured”
They’ve always had their fair share of injuries, usually due to their own brashness as alphas. He remembers when Gaz got shot like it was yesterday, the three of them wouldn't leave his side. It took you all the strength you could muster to force John to let you treat him, even if Ghost had been glued to his side anxiously throughout the entire thing too.
“I took you away from there, brought you here. Stayed till you fell asleep, and then I must’ve passed out myself.”
It’s obvious you’re extremely confused right now, and to be honest, even he is. He’s never felt a pack instinct so strong in his life, not even towards the rest of the 141– it’s still shocking him, and yet, he still cant feel anything but calm.
“Sorry.. for the trouble i caused.” You mumble out but he shakes his head immediately.
“You didn't cause any. Just glad you’re okay.” He gets off the bed, mattress creaking from the relieved weight and springing immediately after he stands. “I’ll go grab breakfast. You shouldn't move too much.”
—————
It took everything in him to force himself to leave you to head towards the mess hall. Doing so also cleared his mind from the tranquility forced upon it, letting him finally go over the events of last night to just five minutes ago.
He had forgone all professionalism, and snatched you from the infirmary like it was what he was meant to do.
When he got back, you practically shovelled the food in your mouth whilst he restrained himself from telling you to eat slower. Still, he offered to help you clean up, since seeing all those wraps didn't make his chest any lighter regardless of instinct. Though,that was enough for you to adamantly shake your head and accidentally shut the door straight in his face.
“Thanks for making sure I was okay.” You say gratefully, dressed in some spare clothes and picking up your phone in your bag to see for any messages about reports or briefings. “ I should head back to my room though.”
He freezes, you weren't supposed to just leave straight away. Well, technically you didn't have a reason to stay, but a burn in his chest makes it physically impossible to watch you step away now.
“Stop.”
You listen to his command, turning to meet his eyes as you wonder what else he could really want. The chair creaks as he stands, making his way over to you until he’s just standing there, scrutinising you.
“You smell.. off.”
“Well.. I'm not using my usual shampoo obviously.” You give him a meek smile, and even though it’s not enough to settle the craving he just nods— accepting it.
“Should probably check by the infirmary just in case.” He mumbles, fighting every urge to scent you before he lets you go.
“I will.”
———
Three days.
That’s all that’s passed since that night, and still his mind is a turmoil he can't unravel. As much as his brain insisted you needed some space, he found himself insistent on making sure you’re okay.
That’s exactly why the second he saw you alone in the mess hall today, he was beside you in seconds.
“Are you feeling any better?” Your shoulders jump in a way that makes him wince, but you relax just as quickly when you realise and smile at him.
“What, better than yesterday when you asked me in the hallway?” He likes seeing you tease him like this, as if the pain wasn't eating you from the inside. You hadn't got the opportunity to talk more than in passing, so you answer more when he looks at you attentively. “The nurses gave me ointment for the burns, and I'll be back on regular training soon. Just taking it easier with lighter gym sets, and running instead to keep my body moving.”
Right, he remembers the significantly less damage on your lower half; running must be a bit easier than any other activity for you.
“Good to know, I’ll keep an eye on you too.”
You look embarrassed by his words, quickly turning your head away as you hurriedly step forward in the queue. “I’m not going to exert myself, you don't need to do that.”
All he can do is shrug, trying to push down the feeling that bubbles with your reaction. Instead he steps in front of you to dish out your portions of food for you. Not too much, or too little, just the way you’ve always liked it. He even skips the sides you don't like.
“I do, actually. As a lieutenant, you’re under my care. And as my beta, I need to make sure you’re well.”
It slips out so easily before he can stop it and he pauses, waiting for you to narrow your eyes in disgust. Who is he to claim you like that? Although.. you don't even seem to catch it, but he does notice the small quirk of your brow when you finally process a few moments later. “Wait–”
“Im on grocery run on tomorrow— havin’ a team movie night on Saturday. You should come too, get some steps in instead of being in this stuffy base for so long” Before you can even answer he places your utensils on your plate and then locks onto the exit. “Meet me by our usual car, alright? Eight amsharp.” And then he’s already weaving through the crowds, leaving you standing on your own.
————————-
For the first time in his life, Simon Riley was excited to see you. He hadn't really had time to question it, between the brand new load of paperwork dumped on him today alone and a million other problems in his mind. And yet, every time he glanced at the time ticking towards tomorrow, his instincts roared.
Would you allow him any closer than before? Although, sleeping beside him was already past many boundaries he had only considered he’d need to ease through now. He’s sure you’d flash him that exact smile when he saw you waiting by the car, positive you’d be embarrassed when he no doubt did something for your sake.
Or you’d back up in fear, your eyes flashing with the same hurt you directed towards Soap that day. You’d realise he’s no different than the rest, infact probably just as cruel as they are.
“Bit late to still be working, Lieutenant, even for you.”
“John.” He murmurs, voice on the quieter end as he watches from his seat on the Captain’s couch. There was a small wad of paperwork clutched in his hands like he needed reason to be here, and not solely for the true purpose.
“Simon.” Price returns, walking over to his desk to light a cigar before returning to sit infront of him. “Got a feeling I know why you’re here.”
It’s silent for a few moments and John is convinced he’ll have to lure the question out himself. But it never really is that simple with Simon Riley. Straightforward as ever, he can't help but jump right to the point “How did you.. know? Your omega.”
Price raises a brow this time, having not entirely expected that, but nods regardless as he breathes out smoke. “Feel it in your chest first. Like your instincts are controlling you really… pulling you towards them. It’s not like you can even try to stop it either.”
“And then what..?”
“The mating bite. The feeling will come soon after, fast even— you’ll get violent. But it’s what’s expected, nearly every alpha goes through it. Just advise your omega to not fight back and there won't be much to clean up.”
He pauses when the air in the room suddenly becomes tense, taking another inhale of the cigar.
“The sooner you do it, the easier it’ll be. You don't know when you’ll see them again with our schedules. I don't want to see you actin’ feral on a mission desperate for their scent.”
Soon enough, it was the next day, and he had driven you to the nearest Tesco Extra. Luckily you had come just in time for a sale.. although that meant there were a lot more people than usual. Despite offering to hold it, the basket dangles in his right hand while you glue yourself to his left side. The explosion had left your senses much more sensitive, so sticking to him was the best option.
“Anything else you want?”
“Maybe another biscuit?” You tease since he’s been filling up the basket with them so far, making you snort a little. When you did hang around the team, him and you were the only ones who’d eat them but you didn't know he liked it this much.
He rolls his eyes at your teasing, and leads you to the next aisle. “Grab what you want and meet me over there.” It’s emptier here, so you nod and watch him go towards the tinned food, now facing the shelves of crisps he left you with.
Well you know Soap and Gaz’s favourites already, and Simon loves kettle chips. You’re not sure if the Captain would also be there, so you grab a mixed bag for him. Would it be weird after not seeing them for so long? Strangely enough, you really can't bring yourself to resent them for what happened.
Was it really their fault? No one ever seemed to have the same problems as you. There was only one time you confessed it to a fellow beta on base, although he had quickly become defensive, shaking his head at you. ‘We’re colleagues at the end of the day. As long as it doesn't affect work, it’s totally fine.’
“Didn't get the crisps you like.” You jump as he appears, grabbing your favourite and tossing it in the basket. “Come on, we’ll get some drinks and go.”
You trail behind him as he carries on, noticing an obvious hunch in his shoulders. He’s tense, which for some reason you find entirely out of place despite you not even knowing him that well. It’s just that, ever since that morning in bed with him, he felt soft, and warm, like everything you’d find comfort in. Surely those same clenched muscles aren't the ones that laid beside you?
You’re about to spiral further into analysing his behaviour when you realise you’re at the checkout with him. “O-oh, do you mind if I run to the beta section quickly? I just need to grab—“
“Already got you one.” He picks up the scent refresher from the basket, scanning it through, as well as other medication he’s also seen you use before. You can only blink at him in surprise—the prices had hiked even higher recently, and you had to debate over buying one or being able to afford morning coffees anymore
It brought a sense of relief to your heart though, that comforting feeling settling in your gut once more. He’s alright, probably just a tough mission coming up.
———————
The past few days it’s like a switch had flipped inside him, too similar to how the others reacted after their new omega. You’re at a loss really, it’s not like he’s being rude, but he’s being distant. Like he’s cautious of you. To be honest, you were half expecting him to tell you not to come to the movie night anymore.
Though maybe you were judging him too quickly— it’s not all alphas, right? It was almost sickening every time the small bit of hope bubbled up though, like it was stupid to think he’d actually be the one to stay longer than the rest. You just hope the reason for this wasn't because of something they told him about you.
You were.. surprised to say the least when you entered the rec room alongside Ghost. The both of you had retrieved the bags from his car after he surprisingly called to make sure you were still coming.
Soap and Gaz weren't lazily sprawled across the couch like they usually would—if anything they seemed antsy. They were both sitting there, shoulders tense, Gaz’s leg even bouncing slightly. You did hear they all came back from a mission recently but they were never this agitated, all pent up like this, back when you were with them.
“Oh, hi.” Gaz looks upon hearing two sets of footsteps and smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You just nod, awkwardly fiddling with the plastic bags you grabbed from Ghost’s car. “What’re you here for?”
“Ghost and I went to grab the snacks the other day”
“Y’can call me Simon, y’know.” He takes the plastic bags from your hands and you nod sheepishly, not even realising you had been using his codename.
“Oops, sorry.” He shakes his head at your apology and you quickly help him unpack all the snacks onto the coffee table for tonight.
“Completely blew a mission and now ye come ‘ere for a movie night?” Soap must’ve gotten up at some point, now brushing past you. His arms are like rocks when they hit into yours, and his tone is heavy— almost accusing.
It catches you off guard, and you freeze, watching as he walks around the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to swallow in one gulp. “Well.. we did always have the best ones, no?” Surely he didn't mean to be that harsh, clearly something had been holding their bodies in a tight limbo. It must be a poor joke, even if it dug deep.
He doesn't take your words in the tone you intended though, brows narrowing down at you in contempt. “Don’t see why we ‘ave to entertain the fuck ups. My omega was in tha’ mission, she could’ve died ‘cause of you.”
“Johnny—“ Simon cuts in, voice low as he steps in front of you, his scent wrapping around you, weak enough to not fill your head too much. He’s being careful for you.
Though before Simon can say anything more, you let out a soft huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s the risk of every mission, Soap. I thought as a demolition expert you would know that. Or are you forgetting the time you almost killed me?”
“That was a calculated risk. And yer still standing, aren’t ya?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your supposed argument. “You were being reckless and stupid out there.”
“That’s not what you said when I was on the team.” You snap back, anger starting to simmer inside of you too now. After all, they had constantly sung your praises when you were here. It’s their own fault for throwing you into an omega mission when you weren’t prepared enough.
“You left the team.”
“Because I was forced off!”
That pisses him off, because your words feel like an attack against him, and he walks right up to you, inches away. “We never needed you anyway— just a beta to balance us alpha out. Clearly you’re useless otherwise.” Though suddenly his nose scrunches, stepping back a moment before his eyes narrow into a glare. “Ye fucking bastard. Coming in here, stinkin’ omegas, stinking of her?!”
Your jaw clenches as you watch his body language, something you picked upon living around alphas. They get explosive, very strong quickly. First his fists start to clench, the veins in his forearms starting to show. Then his scent starts getting thicker with anger, pumping into the air like a burning building. It’s bad enough that it makes your own anger start to fizzle, hitting your head in waves of pain and you almost stumble backwards. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, his hand rising upwards, the touch of skin against your cheek and the implosion of pain that spreads across your head.
Simon grabs you before you end up dropping altogether and pulls you away from him immediately, shielding you with his body. “I dont know what the fuck has gotten into you Johnny but you need to sort it out— now.” His scent is thicker than you’ve ever smelt it, in fact this is the most you’ve ever been able to make of it. It smells like gasoline, sharp and lingering, and ready to destroy something completely. So toxic, it forces you to gasp for a breath.
“Both of you, stand down, now.”
Price’s voice echoes across the room and you instantly shudder, leaning against the counter weakly as you grasp your face. The bruise will darken tomorrow but you can already feel your cheek starting to swell. What really has you is the mix of scents all around, filling your head so strongly.
“Captain—“
“No.” Price doesn't hesitate to march over, standing in between them as Ghost thrums with anger. You look over to the doorway, hearing the small creak as it closes Gaz standing there with his arms crossed. “You are soldiers, not fucking children.” He argues, pointing an accusing finger towards the Scot before turning to give Ghost an equally sharp glare.
Then his eyes find you. All you can do is stare back, wondering how he’ll react. Would he blame you for all this? Would you be the scapegoat to keep his perfect little pack intact?
Would you let him humiliate you once more?
You’re a soldier, a beta one, but a fighter nevertheless. Missions you’ve fought through, almost died on, saved lives during. For this? To end up like this? You push yourself to stand despite the heavy scents weighing you down, regardless of the stare his alpha is directing to your beta. Everything tells you to submit, the haze in your head and the throb across your cheek.
“You should go, I'll talk to you about this later.” Price commands, nodding his head towards the door. Surprisingly, his words weren't as harsh, in fact more exasperated than anything.
“Enjoy your movie night.” You murmur, grabbing your jacket where it was on the chair and throwing it over your arm.
“Wait—“ Simon starts, backing away from his offensive on Soap instantly to follow you. “Don’t” You hear Price stop him, his hand wrapped around his forearm to stop him chasing after you.
————————-
If that wasn't enough of a reason for you to give up on all of them, you don't know what is anymore. They’ve treated you so horribly, it was hardly arguable anymore that you shouldn’t have even tried with them again. This was all so stupid—you’re so stupid for even thinking this time it could end differently. You could never coexist.
As for Simon, all you feel is a deep regret in your stomach. It was obvious really, of course he must’ve just been smelling omega on you this entire time. It was just a biological confusion, not a genuine interest in you. He didn't care about who you were, his alpha smelt an omega, and that’s all that really matters. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that you had in some way probably tricked him. His alpha probably had him strung up all week, no wonder he looked so uncomfortable in that shop and every day past.
The chat with Price never happened. They had been briefed almost immediately after you left for an op, and you heard the chatters of their departure the next day. So with them all gone,it was time to get back to work. You had briefings to attend, reports to fill and to forget about everything that happened. Or what didn't happen between you two.
Except you can't.
Everytime you get a second alone with your thoughts, they drift back to him, to that morning and waking up beside him. The last time you’ve woken to someone’s scent around you was when you were very little, your family huddling together in the nest. That stopped as soon as you presented.
Now you’re stuck with this emptiness in your chest. At first you thought his scent had been too strong, and you even tried two pumps of the scent refresher to try and clear your senses. Not even that worked, if anything making it worse now that you longed for his scent even more.
There’s a small balcony you used to see him smoke at, when you first joined the team. He came up here once or twice, and then over the two years you spent with them, never again. In fact, you overheard the sergeants say he quit it altogether. You pause by it today, staring out at the worn railing, the remnants of ash sitting upon it, the mark of his shoe making an outline on the unused floor.
For some reason it makes your eyes water, mourning a connection you could’ve had but seems impossible now.
—-
It’s late at night a few days later. You had taken the opportunity while they were gone to take all of your things out of the rec room. Sure, you should’ve done it before, but a small part of you was still clinging on to possibility. Your blankets that you and the sergeants would swaddle yourselves in on colder nights, the tea strainer you bought to show Price how to use leaves instead of the bought bags, even the few mugs in the cupboard you bought to match them. You left behind the one Soap bought for your birthday— perhaps it belonged there more than it ever did to you. Can't forget the CD player you let Gaz borrow a million times either.
They don't suit your room, the colour clashes with the boring greys in here, and they look like a pile of junk from where you’re beneath the duvets, staring at them. It’s almost midnight, and you know you should be sleeping, but it's a Friday night so to hell with that. You could afford late night wallowing; it’s not like you had anywhere to be tomorrow.
They were supposed to come back today. You heard it from Laswell when discussing something else; she must not know what happened between you. Either they chose not to tell her..or forgot, since you were never that important anyways. The clock blinks one am, maybe you really should sleep.
———
The knock on the door breaks your sleep, and you can only assume it wasn't the first as it continues, each one seeming to become.. slower. You crawl out of bed, mind trying to run a million possibilities through your awakening brain. An emergency mission? Bad news? A sudden attack? An intruder?
“Please..” You hear the groan on the other side of the door, convincing you enough to open it instantly and reveal the other side.
Ghost— or rather Simon, with his mask now fallen at your feet— leans against your door frame, blood dripping onto the floor from a wound near his middle and his eyes glazed over. “Beta..” He breathes through a pained wince, chest sinking quickly.
“Simon?! You should be in the infirmary, not here- ” You scoff, gaze flicking between the blood staining the floor, his hand clenched over the wound and the grime clinging onto his hair and neck.
“No— no- can’t think..” He steps forward, every movement heavy with pain and hurt and yet his eyes stay locked on you. His words are desperate as his hand clenches the handle, sucking in a strained breath.
“A-alright, fine. I’ve got some stuff somewhere—“ Opening the door fully now, you reach for his hand, letting him lean the brunt of his weight as you haul him towards your bathroom. It’s only when you manage to get him to sit on the toilet seat do you free yourself from him, rummaging through your cupboards desperately. “Here- okay, lift your shirt we need to fix that quickly.”
Luckily the wound had just been leaking into the bandages so all you had to do was repack and replace, although you had to deal with his incoherent groans the entire time. Tucking the clean edge into the wrap, he’s finally alright again and you sigh in relief, stepping back.
“Stop—“ He grasps your wrist as you try to put the box back, forcing you to stay in place as you raise a brow at him.
“I need to put it back.“ You sigh, unable to fathom what was up with him right now.
“Stay.”
“Simon, I’m just going to the cabinet..” You sigh as he shakes his head adamantly, pulling you closer even as you try and resist. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Simon.” You say firmly, a fresh wave of your scent rolling through the air. Never have you used it on any of them before, in fact it only ever worked on inconsolable civilians you’ve saved. Beta scent’s only had the purpose of calming down people anyway, not like an Alpha’s commanding force or an Omega’s lure. “Let me go.”
So when he immediately goes lax, fingers grazing your palm as he gently lets go, you step back in surprise. What?
You keep one eye on him as you place the things away, but he just stays, unmoving. As you close the cabinet, you take a step towards him again, gently pulling down his shirt only to feel the soaked blood on it, as well as the gunpowder and grime. Definitely not a good mission then.
“Why.. don't you wash up, alright? I’ll get you some clothes.”
For a moment you’re convinced you’ll have to drag him yourself, but he takes a small inhale and nods quietly, standing the best he can before he kicks off his shoes and socks. Listening like a loyal dog.
—
You make your way to his room with your own mind full of questions from his strange behaviour. Why did your scent have that effect on him? Why did he come to you? Why did he always call you his beta?
The door unlocks easily with the card you nicked from his gear, and his room is in disarray. It wasn’t uncommon for a pack to have scented items from each other, or very close friends; it usually helped with sleeping or just getting comfortable. You remember Gaz and Soap often had items in each other's rooms for that exact reason, though they never traded with you, even if you never asked yourself.
You immediately noticed Price’s sweater on the floor, kicked to the door. Beside the dresser was Gaz’s spare shirt, crumpled and half shoved beneath the base. Soap’s jacket was behind the bathroom door, hidden away from sight like something that couldn't bear to be seen. In the midst of it was a pair of gloves you lent him during a mission when he was damaged badly. Like a pillar in chaos, it was neatly placed beside a brand new scent refresher and a pack of your favourite snacks. Surely, just a piece of repayment, right?
——————
The shower is quiet when you re-enter your room, and you hesitantly step towards the bathroom door, turning the handle. “Brought some clothes.” You murmur, watching the door handle turn.
“Thank you.” He says, the same gruff tone but quieter, and takes the clothes you pass through the gap.
Surprisingly, he doesn't close it after, letting you hear his quiet shuffling as he changes. It feels weird standing on the otherside, knowing you can just walk in and see him bare like this— an alpha left vulnerable. Though, can an alpha truly be vulnerable before a beta? If anything, you’d always be vulnerable alone with him, and he’d always be the strongest in the room.
“I saw my gloves on your table.” You mumble out, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of your bed. His silence doesn't help your inability to keep in the thoughts running wild in your head.
His breath hitches behind the door, something you’ve learnt to notice since you can't read his facial expressions. “I meant to return it to you. But.. I hadn't washed them yet.”
Just as you thought.
The door opens, and he steps forward, the grime washed off and bandages covered by the thin cotton shirt. He looks exhausted like this, like everything weighing down on him has finally caused him to crumble. Just like the others, his shoulders stay taut.
“You left their things on the floor.”
Your beta is desperate to soothe, to understand the problems within his pack, and help him through them. No sane alpha would push away his pack’s items, it has your beta ringing alarm bells across your mind.
“Didn’t need them.” He murmurs, one hand tugging at the end of his shirt as it clings to his damp body. You’ve never seen him fiddle with things like this, running his tongue over his lips.
“You didn't need your pack’s items?” You huff out crossing your arms over your chest. “At least make the lie believable.” Maybe this was his own strange way of pushing you away like they had, because you just wouldn’t understand, would you?
“It’s not a lie.” He grunts, eyes flickering over you and then towards the door— like he’s about to bolt. Not now, not after everything.
You stand, blocking his path as you look at him. “Why did you come here, Simon? It’s not because you feel guilty about the other day, and you shouldn't anyway— Soap’s right. I’m not needed.”
“You are.”
“I’m not—“ You shake your head adamantly, turning towards the door. There’s no way you were going to sit around and be humiliated again, intentionally or not.
“We need you.” He says firmly, hand grasping your wrist as his strong ash suddenly washes over you and thickens in the air. It’s all you can smell, echoed by the weight of his words. Though, you feel his grip immediately falter afterwards, like instant regret. The scent calms quickly, back to the dull linger it usually is as his fingers fall to gently holding your palm. “I.. need you.”
For a moment you’re stunned, scent sprawling anywhere for something solid to grip onto as you try and weave through the possible meanings of his words. Him, Ghost, the soldier feared across foreign countries’ soil and by his mask alone, needs you? A beta?
“I dont…” understand. The word falls silent on your tongue, glancing down at his hand on yours in the low light. “I thought.. the omega’s I work with– their scent rub off on me. That’s the reason for all of this, isn't it?”
“No, no.” His grasp tightens when you try to pull back, feet following you as you step back, until you take a seat against the edge of the bed. “Your scent, it’s been driving me insane. It’s like I can't function without it.”
“But that’s not possible, Simon. I’m not an omega— I can't lure you like that- even the sweetest scent is nothing more than cheap perfume.” You argue, because it’s the truth and there isn’t anything more to it. It’s facts, written and studied extensively in biological research that forms the foundations of society. There could be no other explanation because it just didn't exist, it never will.
His grip tightens again and this time his lip curls back, almost like he’s snarling.. except he seems to be more frustrated with his own actions than at you. “Lust isn't going to save us soldiers.”
You see it now as you look at him properly since patching him up. His eyes are half lidded but you can see how his pupils have expanded in the short time you’ve had him here. Sorting out the blood spilling out of him might’ve helped, but he was crashing fast now that the pain-induced adrenaline was wearing off.
Now he just looked exhausted out of his mind, frantically holding onto his self control as his eyes locked onto the scent glands on your wrist. You could almost read his thoughts now, how he was slipping off the edge, fingers beginning to tremble. Wounded, exhausted and desperate for a moment of solace.
“Simon..” You whisper again, it’s been more than a few times tonight, but this time it’s different.
He drops to his knees before you, hitting the soft rug beside your bed as his hand holds onto yours. His mask had been off the entire time and yet only in this moment do you truly acknowledge the vulnerability before you. “Please, scent me.” He murmurs, low and soft though not gentle with the rasp of greed that bubbles from his throat. Like he told you, he needs this. He needed you. “Let me be.. your alpha.”
The silence rings loud between you, even from the slow drops from the bath’s faucet and the whir of the bathroom fan fading into nothing. “Okay..I will.” You nod, breaking the dam holding him together and he doesn't even let out a breath until he presses his nose against your wrist. The inhale he takes is greedy, like he wants every last scent coating the air, and then the exhale comes, his body dropping like a bomb.
“Thank you.” He breathes and you watch as he lifts your hand as he rises himself, and you realise now he doesn't have his gloves on from the feeling of his bare skin warm against you.
It’s like he doesn't even hesitate, gently rubbing his wrist against the scent glands on yours. You knew what was coming, read about it a million times between alphas and omegas— hell even heard a million more from them in your youth years.
Scenting, when the alpha’s scent envelopes your body, like a shot straight to your brain.
Except, this isn't like anything they described.
You can feel your scents starting to mix, intertwining together before separating once more. They’re tied in the middle like a promise and yet sprouting at completely different ends and filling the room. His scent changes, shifting from the harsh burnt tinges of ash and smoke like they’ve been washed up by yours. It’s petrichor, the damp aroma whenever rain ingrains itself into the soil and washes over rocks. The smell is fresh, earthy and it feels like the relief of rain when it finally comes crashing down, washing over the ground and letting the dying flora renew.
But yours? Yours blossoms in magnitude, like a bubble that has grown and grown until it suddenly bursts. You’ve never smelt it so strong before, used to the quietness of it all, but it’s finally loud. Sweet honeycomb and chocolate, an appetising combination so rarely put together it makes his entire body melt. It’s comforting like a warm drink on a cold day and refreshing like a breeze on a summer night.
You barely get a chance to shuffle backwards before he’s crashing into you, nose forcing it’s way towards your neck as his limbs one by one fall slack, muscles turned to the mere meat they’re made from. A low purr rumbles through him, up his arms where they wrapped around your middle and his chest which is pressed against yours. His eyes have fallen shut, content to be pressed against your nose gland as he lets everything go.
“My beta..” He murmurs, squeezing you tighter to the point you’re forced to exhale yourself and appreciate the warmth and comfort in the room. This was the first time you’ve truly been able to appreciate a friend’s scent without feeling your head start to spin, and it felt amazing. Like everything in the world was set in place, nothing could even shift the balance in this room.
You squeeze him back, a small huff of laughter bubbling in your throat when he groans in contentment. His scent starts to settle once more, now the faint smell of smoke returning though with the gentleness of a campfire, easing your senses.
“Alpha..” You breathe out, letting your own body relax under his, eyes slipping shut in his grasp. Your beta was satiated, curling up for the first time in weeks, and you were more than happy to lay your heart beneath him.
----------------------------------
part one Buy me a coffee!
one more part and then this will be done!! thank you for reading alonga nd im so shocked at how many people loved the first one sm! please leave ur thoughts in the comments <3333 ALSO THANK YOU FOR 5000 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!
general cod: @heyitsniki18 @insanityall @twoandahalfdimes @ririerm @alexinarcadia @sgt-artemis-owl-riley @fries-pls @tikitsune
taglist (thank you SO much to @lexloon for putting this tgt for me):
Gaz was gently working Simon over his lap, scissoring two fingers in and out of him while keeping another two in his mouth. This had become somewhat of a post pub ritual for the two. At least, when Ghost got drunk enough to allow himself to say yes. Gaz had offered multiple times to take Ghost sober, even cornered him a few times, but every time Ghost would avoid him or flat out refused.
Only when Simon was a few too many beers in did he paw at Gaz's arm to take him to his barracks. And Gaz would never say no to his Lieutenant.
Gaz's attention snapped back to Simon's face as he garbled something into Gaz's fingers.
"What was that, Simon?" Gaz asked as he pulled his out his fingers from his mouth because with Gaz it was never "Ghost" or "L.T.", it was always "Simon".
"Please Ma- fuck-" Simon hiccuped, humping desperately against Gaz's thigh. His jeans were disgusting, covered in pre and sticky. "Ma- mama, lemme cum- please- guh-"
Now, this was new. In bed, despite being damn near blackout drunk, Ghost insisted on only calling Gaz, well, Gaz. Kyle or Garrick if he was feeling needy, but never "mama"
Still, Gaz was a man of his word, he'd never say no to his Lieutenant.
And if his dick throbbed at the way Ghost sucked on his nipples as he came, as if if he sucked hard enough milk would come out? Well that was just between Gaz and himself.
Price isn't stupid. He knows exactly what ghost thinks of his missus.
It was obvious from the first night ghost stayed in prices house, leg and arm in a cast. When price had told you about it, you insisted on offering his soldier a space to recover with help, and price has always been weak to you pleading.
Ghost, poor ghost, he is an open book after so many missions spent with price. Eyes tracking your every move as you serve large portions for your husband and guest, pausing on the way you casually kiss prices temple when passing by him.
Price knows ghost wants to fuck you. Not because he passed by the guest bedroom in the night—though he did and wasn't shocked by the sounds he heard—but because it's the same exact look ghost has given him on month-long missions. Desire, longing, and a horrible reluctance to actually act on it.
Price, he knows his wife too, knows that you can appreciate a thing like ghost, so he decides to do what his lieutenant is too scared to do.
Which is how ghost ends up in prices bed, head tucked into your neck while he runs desperately into you. He makes a pretty sight, flushed bright pink and glistening with sweat. Obviously overwhelmed by feeling you around him, so you coo "c'mon, si, you're doing good! Take your time, sweetie, enjoy yourself."
Ghost groans, wrapping his arms around your torso in a hug. He whines something into your neck that price can barely make out, but it has him eagerly pulling ghosts head away and grunting "say that again, simon. She wants to hear it."
"Mommy–" ghost gasps, eyes half-lidded. He whines, tears clinging to his lashes, but his hips only pick up speed "mommy– please– am i– am I good? Am I doing good?"
"Aww, yes, you are ghost. So good, perfect for me." You smile, tucking ghosts head to your chest. You smile at price, pulling him in for a kiss while ghosts hips stutter "so good for mommy, for both of us."
Ghost comes with a sob, and price has to finally step in to get ghost to pull out when it becomes clear he won't stop even when overstimulated. You make sure to press a kiss to his forehead, "john will get you cleaned up, okay? Then you're coming back here to cuddle. Got it?"
You doubt ghost actually got all of that, but you listen idly as price takes him to the bathroom and turns on the tub. You take a quick shower in the other one, and smile when you hear a gasped 'fuck! Dad–' muffled by running water.
tw angst to fluffy smut, fem!reader, mummy kink<3, nursing handjob, slight mention of lactation kink.
it wasn’t unusual for simon to wake up in the dead of the night, panting and trying to calm his racing heart. it did happen less often now that he had moved in with you, though. you brought him a serenity he had never experienced before. a quiet forest with a small clearing that all the animals drank water from. peaceful.
tonight was one of those unfortunate nights that simon dreamt of the snake wrapped around his neck. he was begging and crying yet the cruel man wouldn’t take the reptile off of him. the man just laughed, so condescending and vicious, watching his eldest son choke to death.
“dad, please! i’m not- i’m not scared! just take it off, please!”
when simon opened his eyes, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t make a sound, the room was dark. only a little light made it through the curtained windows, courtesy of the almost full moon. his eyes landed on your sleeping form, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. good. he hadn’t woke you.
the trip to the bathroom was a quick one. simon splashed his face with cold water, trying to shock his system and take his mind away from the night terrors. but when he looked up in the mirror, all he could see was him. his father. all the scars in the world couldn’t cover it. as much as he prayed wanted to believe he looked like his mother, those eyes were straight from hell. the same eyes that looked at him with bitterness and resentment, would keep looking back at him throughout his life.
maybe if he grabbed his switchblade and gouged them out then-
“simon? baby, why’re you up?”
he turned around and was met with his entire world staring back at him. you in your pyjamas, that had gotten a little messed up while you slept, rubbing your eyes. a smile formed on his lips instinctively and he opened his arms, sighing when you immediately made your way to him. “a man can’t even take a piss anymore?”
you tilted your head a bit, cupping his cheeks. “don’t lie to me, si. you’ve been staring at the mirror for five minutes now.”
simon furrowed his brows, his walls still high up. “ya saw me?”
you nodded and brought his face closer, nudging his crooked nose with yours. “woke up when you left the bed. now, will you tell me what’s wrong, sweet boy?” your voice was so soft, no judgement behind it.
sweet boy. despite all the training he’d gone through, all the years in the field, two words were able to disarm him fully. he practically melted in your hands, mirroring your actions with his nose, and put his hands on your waist. “nightmare.”
you hummed and pressed a soft peck on his dried lips, caressing the apples of his cheeks. “oh, my baby. i’m so sorry.” you murmured and a small smile formed on your lips when simon chased your mouth to kiss you again. “let’s go back to bed, alright? i got ya.”
your boyfriend was still quite shaken up when you two snuggled up in bed again. “you’re okay, i promise.” you whispered and brought his head to your chest, letting him hear your heartbeat. you hoped it would calm him down, even slightly.
simon’s head had gotten fuzzy. he’d never felt that before. he was just so safe in your arms that he felt like he was a kid again, running to hide behind his mum when his father came home drunk. “ah was so scared, mummy.” he whispered, face buried into your chest.
you were glad he couldn’t see your frown and misunderstand your expression. it wasn’t because of him, it was because the man you loved so dearly had been hurt so badly. his wounds ran deep and they still throbbed like a fresh stab in the chest. he had learned to swallow the pain and move forward like nothing happened, you knew that. he never even acknowledged the hurt from his childhood. this was a good step in his healing journey, you thought.
“it’s okay, sweet boy. mummy’s here. i’m right here.” you whispered against his hair, the buzzcut he’d gotten weeks ago now fairly grown out, and pressed a kiss on the top of his head.
simon took a shaky breath, his cold hands snaking under your pyjama top. “let me… let me, please.” he whispered as he lifted your top and exposing your breasts in the cool air. your nipples hardened almost immediately and he looked at them like they were the most magnificent thing in the world.
“go ahead, baby boy. they’re all yours.” the words barely left your mouth before he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, his hand circling the other. you let out a quiet moan, not wanting to make too much noise. you wouldn’t let yourself disturb him, not when he was finally showing you a part of himself he’d never even showed to himself.
he suckled your breast like a hungry babe, eyes closed and face so needy. he bit the soft flesh a few times, kissing it right after as if he was apologising, then going back to sucking again. he wasn’t sure when he switched his attention to your other nipple, or when he started grinding his hardened cock against your thigh. “mummy… mama.” he mumbled against your tit, getting harder and needier by the moment.
“i know, simon. i know.” you cooed and guided him so that he was curled up against you. this huge man was lying across your lap, mouth latched onto your chest. you rubbed his clothed crotch a little, making him whine, before taking his cock out. “oh, darling. you’re so hard.”
simon whined and nodded his head, still refusing to pull away from your chest. it was as if he was convinced that if he sucked hard enough, milk would come out. he moaned and bucked up his hips when your hand wrapped around his dick.
“my poor boy just needs his mummy to make it better, huh?” you murmured and stroked him once, rubbing the tip with your thumb. you used the precum as a lubricant and started stroking him, taking your time. one hand was jerking him off while the other caressed his head.
he was so pent up. it felt like everything he had buried deep inside him was about to burst out of him. “mum—ugh—so close. can i?”
you hummed and stroked him faster, pressing his face into your breast. “go ahead, baby boy. cum for mummy. go on.” your permission was all he needed to explode, ropes of cum making a mess of your hand and his thighs. “good boy. i’m so proud of you, simon. i love you so, so much.” you said softly, kissing him back when he pressed his lips against yours.
you cleaned both of you up, not letting him do anything even if he insisted. when you were finally under the covers again, your head on his chest now, you could feel simon nervousness radiating off of him. “what is it, si?”
he sighed and nuzzled your head, taking in your addicting scent. “i’m sorry. for… you know.”
you tilted your head up, eyes soft and full of understanding. not even his mother looked at him with so much love. “you don’t have anything to apologise for. i’m serious, simon. ‘s all good, alright?”
“you didn’t get off. i should-“
you pouted, trying to ease the tension with some playfulness. “don’t start, please. this was about you. i enjoyed this very much. don’t even want to cum. it was more than enough to feel you.”
he didn’t say anything else after that, just hugged you tightly and let himself drift off to sleep.
simon was a man with walls thicker than an fortress around him. he’d learned to not trust anyone, sometimes not even himself. yet when he looked in your eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to doubt you. he could feel your sincerity and it always put him at ease. there was no need to second guess and try to figure you out.
a/n: i think that simon looks a lot like his mother but his eyes are his father’s. which is why it’s even worse because the scars all over his face have changed him but his eyes remain the same. erm. love nursing handjobs tbh. i really want to give si one:( anyway. nonnie i’m expecting lots of barking in my inbox<3
Thinking about getting trapped under rubble with alpha!ghost....
You hardly had time to react when the building came down. The only thing that registered was the sudden, deafening sound of wood beams splitting under the force if an explosion.
You should be terrified right now, mind lagging behind and trying to survey where you've been hurt or not.
Instead all you can focus on is the sharp, comforting scent of ghost.
The alpha is bowed over you, arms braced on either side of your head and knees squeezing your hips in the tight space. Every inhale brings in his scent and it's—
Comforting.
"Hey! Hey, are you with me, soldier?" His voice finally registers past the thumping of your blood. You let out a weak whine, your own instincts overwhelmed, and feel him physically exhale "okay. You broken?"
A shake of your head, and he calms down more. That comforting scent makes you calm down too, and you belated realize this is the first time you've properly smelt him.
He smells like leather, wood, a slight metallic note. It makes the beta in your warm and happy, you've always mentally considered him pack. Despite the debris in the air, your crane up in the small space to shamelessly rub your cheek into his neck.
"Fuckin' hell– really?" Ghost grunts above you, knees squeezing you tighter for a second.
"You...smell nice." You mumble, almost dazed.
Ghost curses more, says something about an 'instinct haze' but you don't focus on it. Instead, you nuzzle further against his scent gland, purring. You hardly notice the hard line pressing into your side, or the growing change in his scent, aroused from the close contact with the beta he's been eyeing for months.
"Christ runt–" ghost shifts, head dipping until your foreheads knock together "settle down. I can't– just stop right now, okay?"
You nod, because your alpha wants you to. You'd do anything for him.
Ghost bites his tongue and tries to listen through the rubble for the team. You're out of it, and he wont have you like this. If he takes you as a mate he wants to earn it.
It was the morning after the funeral, the sunset cliff in the scottish highlands with what remained of your team, that Shepard's picture was in the news.
"U.S. General Hershel Shepard, Slain in Brazen Pentagon Attack!", is what was plastered all over your feed. It was not yet twelve when you stirred, tangled up in strewn blankets and Kyle's outstretched limbs. You had gone home with him after the funeral, both tired and mourning your friend, your teammate and brother in arms. You slipped under the covers with him as you both held each other, grounding yourselves in each others heartbeats and warmth.
The sun streaming through a crack in the blinds had woken you, and you lay in bed blankly before fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and settling back against Kyle's chest, preparing to lose yourself in something that kept your mind of Soap.
But fate had dictated otherwise. You sat up quickly, heart pounding as you read the first article, then the second, and you had shook Kyle awake by the third.
"Kyle," You said, not taking your eyes off your screen, "Kyle get up."
"Mhm, what is it love." He grumbled turning his head to the sound of your voice, but not opening his eyes. "It's too early."
"Shepard's dead, Kyle. He got fucking killed."
With that, he had gotten up, blearily taking your outstretched phone and reading.
"Holy shit." He said, looking up at you with his brown eyes. "Should we call Laswell?"
You shook your head. "She's probably busy with all that happened, She'll contact us if she needs us."
The evening news brought Price's picture.
You had just finished dinner, ready to bring your plate to the sink when your Captain was branded a traitor and a killer.
"Oh God," You had sobbed against Kyle's grey shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists as the cotton darkened with your tears. "What the hell is happening?"
Kyle held you tight against him, always your grounding presence. But you knew even he was at a loss.
"We need to go." He said, chin tucked above your head. "We need to hide. I'm calling Ghost."
You had nodded dully, and scampered off to fill up a duffle bag. You didn't have many clothes here, mostly borrowing from Kyle's closet, so you had a mixture of both of your clothing items. Your toiletries, and your jewelry that you kept for scenarios like this.
You had slid your gun case from under the bed when Kyle walked in.
"He'll be here in 20." He said, and got to packing.
You took your pistol, loading it and storing the remaining ammo in your bag. You tucked the gun in your waistband.
The sound of the door opening made your heart drop, but the familiar Manchester accent calling out your names had you breathing a sigh of relief.
Ghost stood in the living room, clad in a black surgical mask and a black hoodie, car keys in his left hand.
"Lt." You had greeted, lip wobbling at the sight of him. You went over and gave him a tight hug, burying your face in his hoodie, and Ghost held you close.
"I know, luv." He said, quietly, firmly. "This will all be handled. I promise."
And you really thought Simon would be a little mean during sex. He had to be a sadist after everything he’s been through.
So, when he’s between your parted thighs, you’re shocked when he speaks to you so softly. Quietly begging in your ear, cock pressed to the hilt, for you to be good for him.
And everytime you let out a whine, fingers tightening at his shoulders because he’s massive and you feel like you’re splitting in two with every thrust; he shushes you. ‘You can take it. Yes—yes you can.’
And when you clench tighter around him because the cadence of his voice licks warmth in your core, he smiles. ‘There you go, baby. Just like that.’
Simon was a gentle lover. You might not have guessed that by looking at him, and most of the other women were too scared to serve him. The madame made sure his needs were met by throwing him you, the finest piece of meat he could get for the gold he was paid.
When he laid you down in the bed, he took his time with you, training his calloused fingers over your quivering tummy. "You tremble... in fear or arousal, love?" He rumbles, lips pressed to the curve of your ear. He hadn't given you a chance to respond before his hand bullied it's way between your legs.
Simon came often, and he came for you only. If you were busy, he would wait, turning down any of the girls who did muster the courage to approach him. You started to look forward to his visits, to feel his mouth against yours, and his thick cock dragging through your cunt... He would whisper the sweetest things to you, promises to take you all for himself.
"Dress you in the finest silks, love... You'll have a garden to spend your days in, you would like that, yeah?" Simon rumbles as he thrusts into you, nibbling your collar bone. "I'll take you away from all of this, love, I promise. I'll make sure you're only mine."
The weekly visits came to a halt when spring started early one year. He told you he would be leaving, at least. Wrapped in his arms as he held you on his chest. "I'll come back for you, love. You will wait for me, yes? Wait for me to return, be good, and I will take you away."
"Please don't be gone long." You whisper as you press your ear to his chest. You drank in his warmth, the sound of his heart gently thumping in your ear. The two of you lay tangled for as long as you can, reluctantly pulling yourself away from him when the morning finally came. "I'll see you soon."
"I'll return for you." He vowed, and then he was gone.
He was gone for years.
You didn't want to lose hope, but after the first year of no letters, no sign from him, your heart began to break. Year two is when you make peace with him being gone. When the men who pay for a night with you leave, you clutch your pillow tight and cry. If you try, you imagine you can still smell him. That you could still feel his heartbeat underneath your ear and his lips softly trailing between your legs.
"Ladies!! Line up!" You lurch into position, arms locked behind your back as you watch the doorway. Madame glares down her nose at her woman, tapping her riding crop roughly against the thighs of those who won't stand still. "Come in, sir. Take your pick of the litter."
When he steps inside, you can feel the air get thick. His mask was skull patterned. It looked almost adhered to his face as he thumps into the room. His boots echo on the wooden floor, sword swinging slightly as he turns to face the line. "Which of our ladies would you -"
The satchel of gold lands with a heavy thump, shillings tumbling over the top onto the desk. "Her." Your heart leaps nervously, eyes flickering from the masked man to your Madame. "Want her to keep."
"Sir, I cannot -"
"You want my money?" He turns his intimating body towards her, which makes her instinctively step back.
"Yes, sir." He grunts, turning back to you and carefully taking your hand
"With me, love." He whispers, eyes settling over your face with relief. "I told you I'd come back."
Mmmmmm….. knight!Simon who fell in love with whore!reader and promised he’d return when he had earned enough to buy her freedom and take her as his wife. He disappears, and you hear rumors of his capture, that he has almost certainly died. You weep for him— of course those romantic dreams were too good to be true.
Only for a knight in dark armor to approach your brothel on horseback, a skull plate welded to his helm, a sword with blood still flaking from its pommel at his hip. The madame has you all lined up, smacking those who dare to tremble in front of an honored guest with her riding crop. A bag of gold, far more than the price for a single night, gets tossed on the counter as a hand gauntleted in black steel points at you.
“Sir, this is more tha—“
“Not ‘ere to stay the night. Oi’m takin’ that one with me.”
