the self indulgent chest-tight simon comfort piece you wrote
first of all, absolutely stunning, been loving your writing for ages now 🫶
second of all,, you mentioned Kyle with strong hugs, would that be a continuation piece you'd be comfortable writing?
no worries or pressure if not :)
have an amazing day!!
- 🪛
thanks so much for the ask anon, and i forgot i threw that mention in there. Its a little rushed because i have a volunteer event tmr, but i did it!! Also, flirty/cheeky kyle will always be my favourit
pt1
Ever since Ghost put the idea in your head, you couldn't stop thinking about experiencing one of Kyle’s tight hugs. But you couldn’t just go and ask him to hug you. No, that was practically unprofessional and borderline inappropriate. So, you had a better idea instead.
“Kyle.. have you seen that thing online, where you crack your back? It looks like it feels so good.” You hum, walking up to him as he leans against the counter and pulling your phone out to show him.
“Cracking your back?” He watches the video you show him, interested as he sees the person hold the other up until the crack echoes. “Huh.. that does look like it feels good. You want me to try it on you?”
You’re positive your face was shining when he actually asked without any more prompting and you nod almost immediately. He chuckles as he moves behind you, watching as you fold your arms like the video showed. “Ready?”
“Yep.” His arms close around yours, chest pressed to your back and you immediately feel how tightly he holds you, like he’s trying to compress you down. He starts lifting you, higher and then suddenly tightens his arms, making a pop sound out in the empty room.
“What the bloody ‘ell was that?!” Soap pipes up from the couch, both of you not realising he was there, making you all chuckle as Gaz lets you down again.
“That was heaven mate.” You chide, stretching your arms out with a sigh of relief, only neither of them knew it wasnt because of that.
—
Everyday that follows you fight the urge, mind drifting back to how tight he held you as you sit infront of him in the humvee, or at breakfast, or even in the middle of the debrief. It’s tempting all the time, so much so that you end up infront of him again. “Kyle can you crack my back again?”
However, it doesnt satiate it much more, instead making you more curious about what his actual hugs would be life. You’d ask more often, the gaps lowering to days, until even two days arent enough.
“I’m starting to think you dont need your back cracked anymore.” Kyle laughs as you ask him practically the day after he did it for you.
“W-what?! It just feels good, that’s all.” Could he actually tell what you were trying to get at? Were you really that obvious?
“Mhm, really.” He eyes you, a smirk starting to rise, just watching your expression. “So, why don’t you ask Soap to do it?”
“Well— i dont trust him not to break my back for starters.” You made it way too obvious didn’t you?! This was a disaster, he would totally make fun of you and then tell HR! Worst of all that meant Price would find out too.
“So you dont want me to just hug you?”
“What?! How- how did you know?!”
He bursts out laughing at your horrified reaction, especially since he’s never seen you crack his badly in years. “Ghost told me you idiot. He said you could use some help, yknow you told him your chest kept feeling tight.”
“I-“ You fall silent, completely embarrassed and almost about to turn on your heel and dash out. Maybe switch teams, switch jobs too— hell even countries.
“You know you could’ve just asked. Instead of making excuses..” He hums, stepping forward with his face inches away from yours when he leans in. “So? Do you want it?”
It takes a shy struggle for him to eventually get you on the same couch you sat with Ghost in last week, the tv playing softly in the background. His arms are wrapped around your middle, more towards your chest, and he holds you tight against him as he leans on the arm rest. With one leg also trapping yours, his body surrounds you, pressuring your chest in all the best ways.
It takes you seconds to let out a relaxed sigh, your chest falling in content as you lean against him properly now.
“Ghost was right, you really do melt like putty.” He chuckles as you get embarrassed, and only squeezes you tighter. “Don’t worry, i dont plan to let you go even if the Cap’ finds us.”
I saw your cute shifter confused reader and was very much expecting one of the men wanting kitty time and get barreled into by a lion and not a very small and lap sized kitty cat.
YESYES I LOVE LOVE THIS (gn!reader)
I’m imagining Soap being extra annoying since Price first made the official announcement that you’re a shifter, specifically with the species of cats. It only got worse when he saw you go into the tiniest form to slip through some cracks on a mission. It’s safe to say he’s been begging you ever since.
“Kitty?”
“That’s not my name, Johnny.” You’d scowl at him, forcing a hiss but he doesnt even bat an eye. He comes over, a grin slowly forming on his face.
“If i get your favourite fish, will you sleep beside me tonight?”
“No.”
“Tuna?”
“No.”
“Salmon?”
You fall silent, contemplating it until he leans in, giving you a cheeky smirk. “Ye want some sea bass kitty?”
You should be annoyed, really should be fed up with his antics, but it’s only one night you have to endure this for. So after he promises to buy you the best fish for the next three days, you trot into his room, tail perked high.
“Yer so damn cute.” He coos, picking you up and snuggling you onto his chest, his thick arms locking you in. “Go to sleep kitty, tha’s it.” He pets your ears, making a low purr rumble through your chest. It soothes him to sleep too, the both of you snoozing quietly.
But it’s almost 1am when his chest feels like it’ll implode. It feels like two hands have grabbed his lungs, squeezing it tight to flatten out any air left behind. His eyes snap open, wincing at the harsh feeling until he comes face to face with your giant canines peeking through your lip. Two large paws trap him beneath you, the slight dig of the claws making him panic as you slumber on him.
“Ay— kitty!” He wheezes, trying his best to even move his arms and failing miserably, you dont even wake, just growling softly.
“I- i can’t breathe—“ With all the strength he can muster, he pushes against you and you jolt, sleepily glaring at him.
He watches in horror as you bare your teeth, so large and practically centimetres away from his face. He didnt know you coud shift in your sleep! You hiss, annoyed he woke you before you see the sheer panic on his face, promptly realising the situation you’re in.
In seconds you’ve shifted back to a human, just the blanket covering you as you scramble off of him, looking panicked. “Oh my—Johnny are you okay?!”
“Yeah- i just—“ He wheezes again, and you’re terrified you might’ve actually broken something in him. Wrapping the blanket tight, you quickly make your way to Ghost’s door next door.
He opens it after a moment, mask hastily shoved on and eyes narrowed. “This better not be because you got fed up of Johnny—“
“Simon! I think i broke his ribs!”
His eyes widen in alarm and he slips past you, dragging you with him into Johnny’s room where he’s laying on the bed , face scrunched.
It’s safe to say you’re not really allowed to sleep beside any of them anymore, especially if both of you are asleep. It’s for both of your safety anyway; if you managed to turn into a small desert cat, and he rolled onto you, you’d be in a very similar situation.
Despite your insistence, he still buys you the fish he promised, although his chest is a bit bruised from the whole ordeal.
cat hybrid reader who enjoys playing with Simon's mask bc it feels nice and accidentally makes the mask slip off one day during an important meeting. next time, Soap and Simon wrap her in a blanket to cut her nails just so it doesn't happen again (she's kicking and biting), and she's SULKING for days until they grow back
I had this written up like.. wednesday? And i just forgot to post it so my bad
Anyway this is more shifter than hybrid but here u gooooo
You had an… interesting hobby to say the least; it was one that no one else in the world had, and you were very confident in that fact. The hobby in question was something you eagerly sought out to do all day, following the man who was the only one who could provide it to you, but unfortunately he didn’t indulge in you very often so you had to snatch the advantage when it came.
It started off when Ghost decided to spend his evening on the team room’s couch, opting to indulge in a book for once. It was quiet, a storm brewing up outside as the winds began to howl and you.. may have been caught outside when it started up. Exhaustion was an understatement; you had little to no energy to even consider being a human and having to drag your entire weight back around base again.
So what better to do than take advantage of your abilities?
Your tail flicked from side to side, long and raised as you pattered into the room. You were one of the few who regularly lounged around here, and you loved every second of it. It was much better than navigating the crowded hallways, especially when you have to crane your whole head up to see someone properly. Though today, you didnt expect to walk smack into a leg, your furry face bumping straight into the muscle and forcing you to stumble in your tracks. A meow slips out, fluffy ears twitching as you shake your head and look around. Vision was always a little weird when you switched between cat and human, but your sense of smell always persevered when figuring out who someone was. You sniff the clothed leg curiously but you didn't expect what you’d find.
Since when did Ghost come in here?
You look up properly to see the skull painted balaclava move, the man now looking down at where you sit by his legs. “You need to be more aware of your surroundings, yknow.” He says, and you growl in response, though it’s nothing more than a show of annoyance since you cant give him a sharp glare in this state. You walk through his legs, soft paws silent against the hard flooring before you look over at him again. Now you understand why you hadnt anticipated for someone to be right there— that was supposed to be your napping spot, not his! Of course you thought everyone knew that fact— plus that pillow practically had your fur all over it too. You wouldn’t let this slide.
You steady yourself before jumping onto the couch beside him and pawing at the pillow behind his back, tapping his arm as you meow incessantly. “Hm? There’s many pillows, just get another.” He rolls his eyes when you carry on pawing at him, not giving up for a second. That is until you decide to take action, your claws reaching up to graze the fabric of his mask. It’s light and definitely not as far as your claws can go but instead of a reaction, he just turns back to his book again.
Naturally, as any sane person does, you resorted to climbing up onto his shoulder as you’d repeatedly kneaded your claws in and out of his mask, feeling the fabric give and pull. Over and over until the motion began to unintentionally ease you, claws digging in and out until a soft purr settles in your chest. The sound reverberates around the area, his shoulders feeling the soft vibrations as you lean against him. He continues to read, nor does he pay much attention to your antics, only pulling you off of him when you fall asleep with your kitty head hanging off his neck, letting you curl up comfortably in his lap instead.
Ever since you found that out, you’ve been roaming more and more in your cat form, searching for him in your down time to sink your claws into the thick fabric whilst purring to your heart's content. It’s a stress reliever to say the least, turns your brain to total mush too. It’s also why it was your first instinct straight after a tough mission, walking straight through the base doors and into a bathroom stall to shift. Ghost was pleasantly startled to say the very least when he looked down to see your big eyes and perked ears staring up at him. Surely it wouldnt hurt to indulge you a little, even if he was in the middle of an important briefing? ..Right?
Wrong.
You had been kneading away at his mask as usual, but the stress of the day had you more agitated than usual, getting lost in your head. Before you know it, your claws are latched deep into the back of his balaclava, grazing his skin as you unintentionally pull too hard to the point it starts to rise up, exposing his chin and lips before he catches himself.. and you, dangling from the scruff of your neck as you look up at him with widened eyes.
“It was an accident i swear!”
Both Soap and Ghost stand before you, the latter doing nothing to hide the glare written in his eyes whilst Soap tried to ease you. You were dressed hastily in a shirt and jeans, hair messy and a frown deep on your lips but a clear fear of Ghost’s glare. “We know, we know. We’re just saying it cant happen again.” Soap sighs, half tempted to run his hands over your fluffy ears from the beginning of an unintentional shift.
“It wont! I wont do it again!” You say, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.
“Like i’d believe that. Your nails are getting cut, kitty.” Ghost scoffs, reaching forward to grab you but you’re too quick, eyes widened with alert as you shift right them and there, already scurrying towards the door as you yelp. Soap is just as fast though, blocking the door handle that you cant even reach. So you shift again, trying to push past him while Ghost grabs you by back of your shoulders, Soap on your front. “Hey! Let go!”
You yowl loudly as you shift into a cat for the last time, both of the men coddling you in a large blanket before pulling each paw out to trim each individual claw. To say you were not happy about that was a severe understatement, you were fuming, biting their fingers at any chance possible. When they finally let you go, you ran, dashing out the door and down the corridors.
The next two days were the weekend, and it’s safe to say you were still very much annoyed. For starters, you refused to shift back at all, avoiding communication whatsoever. Secondly? You’d hiss at every turn, not giving them a second to try and make up for it with pets or the like, occasionally curling up on Price’s lap just to stare daggers directly at the pair of them. Just to prove you were mad, if they let their guard down too long, you’d climb up on the couch behind them and smack your tail right against their head before scurrying off again; definitely a menace to say the least.
But even they couldn't deny the sight was quite pitiful. At first, you could barely knead anything due to your blunt claws, giving up on the pillow almost immediately. Then when they started to grow back, the pillow was too thin, causing fluff to spill out and when you curled up on Price’s lap, he had told you off immediately for scratching his legs in your attempt to knead again.
Now you roamed the halls miserably, nothing to relieve you of your pent up stress from missions, kicked off the last person’s lap you could sit on—Gaz never sat still for long when Soap was around—and you couldn’t find the energy to shift back into a human. “Oh? Look who it is.” Ghost notices the miserable look, even if felines rarely show their moods so visibly, but then again your ears were practically flat against your furry head. You just look at him for a second before eventually beginning to walk past him once more.
He’s not having it though, scooping you up until he has you cradled in his arms. “Come on, lets get you some proper rest now.” He carries you over to the couch, dims the lights and rubs his fingers over your head and chin until you ease, your body flat out over his legs. He even lets you dig your claws into his jeans, figuring you’re trying to pay him back for his ‘mean’ behaviour. In the end, you cant stay truthful to your anger much longer, your tail curled up around your body as your head sinks down against his thigh and his abdomen, body warmth enough to have you sound for the whole night.
Any member of TF141 and a weapons designer that just wants to make cool things (silly little guy energy) purely platonic
apologies for the wait although i think i did fairly well making it faster than i’ve done with most requests
Also if you’re gonna ask so nicely i shall give you all of the tf141 because why the hell not dawg (remembered i have free will)
—-
Gaz was actually the first to approach you, having been told to collect some gear from the mechanics and tech department. It was your first time on base too, as they had recently built the labs and facilities for you to work there rather than constantly driving hours to deliver.
He knocks on the door, knuckles rapping gently on the metal, as he peers in. “Excuse me? Anyone here?” It looked deserted, not a sound nor sign of anything human other than the soft whir of machines.
“One moment!”
He’s genuinely surprised when he hears a voice, followed by a loud clatter of equipment and then you, who stumbles into view, beckoning him in. “Can I help you with anything.. S-sir?” He watches as you push up the welding guard, finally revealing your face to him, and he can tell you’re slightly panicked that he’s some sort of higher up come to scold you.
“Actually, Capt. Price sent me to pick up some gear for the next mission?”
“Gear?” You look at him like your brain is empty, which it may as well be with the way you stand there frozen for a few moments before finally tapping your chin. Fumbling with your pockets in your protective gear, you pluck out a small notebook, flicking through the pages until you finally stop on one. “Gear… Oh! Right! Gear!”
You move quickly to the large cardboard boxes placed in the corner, easily scaling the tower of them until you find the one you’re looking for. Then you dig your hand in, rummaging until you find a slightly smaller box, and carefully bring that down with you before plopping it on the table with a soft thud.
“Silencers..” You hold the notebook open in one hand, going through the items listed in the captain's email one by one. “Size optimised flash bangs, pepper spray, tasers..”
Gaz raises a brow as you go through each item, with the next becoming even weirder than the last. When you’re checking them off with the pen in your chest pocket, he peers into the box, wondering why the hell there’s a Nintendo DSi inside. “What the hell is this for?”
You blink, and then cough harshly, trying not to get too excited at the prospect of explaining the latest invention. “Oh- um.. Well the Captain mentioned it was undercover, and you would be trying to blend in as a college student or something.”
“Pretty sure technology is a bit more modern than this now? I could’ve just used a phone.”
“No! It’s not that simple.” You take the device from his hands, and pull out the bag of cartridges from the box. Inside there’s one with a little blue icon, designed to look like nothing more than a troubleshooter if anything. “This sets off an emergency GPS to your location when clicked in and out twice.” You explain, grabbing another one with a red icon, similar to Mario party. “And this will make it so that it self-destruct in a minute.”
His eyes widen as you explain, shocked that anyone could engineer such a device let alone for missions like these. It’s oddly akin to the gadgets in the spy movies he’d watch as a kid. Naturally, he brags all about it on the way to the next operation, voice smug as Soap easily grows intrigued by the mention of explosives. That’s why he’s the second one to visit you.
“Anyone ‘ere?”
“Probably in the back, Soap. I would know.” Gaz smirks, leading him through the now furnished labs, looking in a much better state than he had seen it just last week. As expected, you’re there again, carefully putting the parts together to another gadget, even if it is technically your lunch break.
“Oh— can I do anything for you two?”
Gaz shakes his head, Soap already stepping forward in intrigue at chemicals he already knows well, mechanisms that he reads into on the daily. “Heard ye made Kyle a bomb— I want one too.”
Your eyes widen, flickering to Gaz as if confirming that he had actually found your gadget useful before going on a long tangent explaining each and every detail to Soap. It ends with him getting your next weapon in his hands, more specifically an ear-stud that contains the explosive he was dying to learn more about. Ghost looks at him in horror when he casually takes it off his ear and holds it against a tough bolt, the explosion small but enough to break it and send it clattering to the ground. Then he stares again when he pulls out his personalised gun for said mission, one that blends in all too well in his belt, like a hammer on a tools man.
All your work has gone towards making their missions even more successful than before, allowing Price to gain intel faster and deal with these issues as soon as possible. The effects are clear as day, and he doesn't intend to waste your shining potential, inviting you to the next briefing to decide on what gear and weapons they should bring for it. The opportunity is one of the other mechanics dream of, usually hidden in the back and not heard of until something’s broken, but clearly your accidental charm had done wonders.
Only problem now was that.. you couldn't seem to make it in. Anxious, you stood outside the briefing room, or well, a corridor down just in case someone saw you pacing. Talking to the sergeants was a breeze, explaining all the curves and twists in the thought trains in your head all while they’d nod along whilst watching your hands demonstrate in awe. Though this was different, far different; you’d be presenting it in front of other lieutenants, only one captain yes, but too many soldiers it made you dizzy.
Only when you finally forced yourself to step inside and take in the sight of them waiting for the meeting to begin did you shove your flashcards into your pocket. There was no way you could do this. Absolutely no way.
—
Price grows more confused by the second, brows narrowing as you adamantly avoid his gaze the entire meeting and then just robotically mumble about the most basic weapon loadout ever with a mediocre reason. The other soldiers, having never witnessed your gadgets, don't see it as anything different, nodding along at your basic observations and don't even bat an eye when you sit down way too early. Maybe that’s what Price really wanted though, you convince yourself, a finger looped into the side of your trousers as your breath stays hitched for the remainder of the evening.
“You’re all dismissed.” The soldiers begin to stand, but Price directs his gaze to you, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re staying.”
Once they’re all cleared out, he walks towards the crappy coffee machine in the corner, dispensing two cups and passing one to you. It’s bland, but you take it anyway, sipping it down to try to wash away the nerves still there.
“Why didn't you say what you wanted to?”
“What?”
“You expect me to believe you think we should use the most basic weaponry? After everything you’ve given my sergeants?”
Embarrassment washes over you instantly, more so at being called out than anything, and you just fiddle with the styrofoam cup, the squeaky noises filling the tension. “I’ve never showed it to anyone else before. Sergeant Garrick wasn’t meant to take it, but he insisted..”
—
Price gave special orders that you’d make your weapons specifically for his taskforce first before you ever prioritised another group's artillery, and you’ve held that rule high ever since. It’s been two months of creating all sorts of things, the prospects only getting wilder with their specialised missions. You adore all the new materials he’s got in stock for you too, the endless bounds of your creativity finally getting filled, and you end up in your office practically all day.
It’s only when it comes to one evening, well it’s almost two am, when there’s a short rap at the labs doors. You slide your headphones off; the sudden noise at the quiet hour had startled you, especially since you were in a less populated part of base— noise complaints came plenty often anyway though.
As you walk over to the door, you realise just how tired you actually are, the time getting by without you realising and leaving you yawning into your palm. “Can I..?” You pause as you open the door to a man in a mask, well it’s only a surgical one, but you consider that you’re being robbed until you remember this is a military base and not your dodgy apartment you used to live in. Luton had its rough sides.
“It’s been a week of non-stop noise in here, do ya even bloody sleep?” He blurts out, arms crossed over his chest as he narrows his eyes at you. Despite your usual behaviour at clear superiors— given how you immediately shut up whenever Price talks— you just squint your eyes and blink wearily at him.
“Sometimes? I usually just fall asleep whenever..” Now that he's stepped into the light and your eyes have adjusted from the sparks of your tools, you recognise that he also works with the Captain.. and Soap.. and Gaz?
“Lieutenant Riley?”
“Yes.” He says firmly, arms stiff in place as he narrows his eyes over you form. “Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s two am. The noise doesn't even stop until two thirty every night.”
“Well, you know the three am rule. Can't break it.” He raises a brow at your words, not understanding what you mean. “Don't be awake at three am? I don't know, I remember it from when I was a kid.”
“Don't be stupid.” He scoffs at your exhausted rambling, clearly the adrenaline wearing off and he pulls the welding torch out of your hand, stopping you right there. “Go to bed. Now.”
“It’s too late to drive to my apartment though..”
It’s not often he finds someone who doesn't stay on base, but he supposes it makes sense given you’re not getting deployed or anything like that. Still, he can't work with that. “Well I’m sick of the noise.”
Within seconds, you’re getting dragged down the corridor by the scuff of your shirt, towards what seems to be the taskforce’s common room. He clicks the recliners on the side, making it sit up properly and then nods his head towards it.
“Sleep. Now.”
You hesitantly sit down on the couch, and he moves to leave the room, only to come back again with a thick duvet, placing it on the side of the couch.
“I don't want to hear one noise from your labs. Y’ hear me?”
With that he’s gone again, disappeared back to his barracks, and you flop back onto the couch. What was his problem anyway? Your labs were nowhere near the barracks and the Captain or the sergeants never had a concern over it before. Sure, you didn't sleep as much as you should, but power naps worked perfectly well and there was only that one time you fell asleep and only woke from the warm coffee you had dunked your head in. Okay, maybe there was the time you nodded off in the mess hall waiting to have lunch with the sergeants, and when you tripped over your own feet in the middle of the corridor.
Point was, you’ve been fumbling all week, hell all month– how has no one caught you up on it?
Oh.
Oh.
You turn your head into the soft couch cushion, cheek smushing against the fabric. Soap had mentioned once that Ghost had questioned how you managed to churn out so many prototypes so fast, and clearly he finally took matters into his own hands. With a small sigh, you let your eyes close, already daydreaming about the custom weapon you can make him tomorrow.
-----------------------
a/n: can u guys tell i grew up reading alex rider? anyway thanks for the ask anon, i hope i did it justice!
hii, how are you?? not sure if reqs are open, but started following you recently but I really love the way you write 💔
I've been thinking about Ghost with a blind! reader for a while now, Simon trusting them enough to let them touch (see) his scars and having a cute moment 🥺
how do you think that'd go??
This ask is from feb and i am so sorry. I wanted to do a small fluff drabble at first, but i realised i wanted to do a bit more with this
Everything happened too fast even if they all knew how it would end. It started when they were first briefed on the plans by Laswell. She had made it clear that someone would have to choose to go into a very dangerous situation though the risk would be worth the reward. All of you had argued over it for a while, unable to decide who would be the one to put themselves forward until finally Price had enough.
“Whoever’s closest at the time will do it. If you decide you don't want to, pass it to the next person.”
Ghost didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he was sick of all of this for a long time now, and whilst the risk wasn't death, it would definitely be a discharge. He had done so much over the years, saved countless lives, killed the same amount if not more, shedding blood all over his fingertips. But if it ended now.. What would he do? Sit at home, in his bloody little apartment, probably with some poor kid from the NHS looking after him? He didn’t like the sound of any of it; he’d rather be put in a coffin.
But you wouldn't like that. You’d argue with him the hardest when he offered himself up, giving the sharpest glare he’s ever seen on your face – even when up against the enemy.
“There’s no way we’re going to risk our main sniper, your skills are too valuable Ghost.” That’s what you said in the meeting room, adamant and arms crossed firmly over your chest. Weirdly enough the guys agreed tenfold, shaking their heads at him and refusing to even hear him out. How could he bear to watch any of you offer yourself up to the slaughter? You all had a life much more worth living than his, and you, he could never let you abandon him.
So when the mission began, he was planning a million ways in his head that no matter what— you wouldn't be the closest.
But, like a doomed fate, the responsibility fell on you. “I’m the closest.” You said through the comms, tracker beeping as you move across the screens on their communication devices.
“Do you want to do it?” Price confirms, and Simon prays you’ll say no. Please, he’s begging you. Say no, decline it, just be selfish. Just this once.
“Yes sir, moving in now.” And then you were gone, walking through the corridors until you make it until the heart of the building.
And all he could do is watch that stupid dot move, as he and the others were forced to get out of the vicinity. Cowering behind the best cover they could find, and pray your blinker wouldnt disappear.
-
He was the first to go back in and get you after the explosion, calling out to you over comms, again and again, until he found your shoe, off to the side. It took him a few more moments, and Soap finally catching up, for them to pull out the rubble, seeing you huddled in the space they preplanned. They had the layouts of the building, so naturally they had figured out the safest place to hide after detonating. Well, as far as safe less than 50m from a bomb could be.
Blood dripped down your head, your eyes closed as you lay there, one leg definitely not in the right position.
“Sergeant, can you hear me?” Ghost speaks as he pulls you carefully out of the mess, Soap immediately coming to catch your other limp limbs.
You dont answer but the pulse thumps between where his bare fingers touch your neck. You’re okay— it’s okay.
He stays with you all the way until the plane lands, until he’s helping the doctors take you into the hospital, standing outside the door as they shove the wires and tubes into you.
“I’m afraid, her eyes were affected quite badly, we had to perform surgery on one of them already and the other one will worsen over time.” The doctor explains to the Captain who nods solemnly. There was no doubt about it now, you would be kicked from the team.
————
“Can you hear me? You’re okay, we brought you back.” Ghost hums into your ear as he sits at your bedside, the sight of you stirring from your sleep making his throat thick with guilt. How would you react? Would you be angry? Would you cry, and panic?
He couldn't bear the thought of it, any of it, and that’s why he's waited so long. He has to protect you, even if you had saved all of them with this mission. If you panic he’ll calm you down, if you cry he’ll wipe the tears, if you’re angry—-
“Simon?”
He’s snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, his name, coming from your lips. “Yeah, right here.” He mumbles, all of his previous convictions sizzling out as you blink your eyes open, and then try to rub at them, confused.
“Listen..” He starts, knowing he should call the doctor as soon as you awoke but was it really that selfish to ask for a moment with you?
“I’m blind, huh?”
He blinks, not realising you’d figure it out so fast, and the silence acts as a confirmation. Slowly, you reach out your hand, searching as best as you can, until you land on his. Your fingers grasp his glove, trying your best to figure out where his fingers are until you can hold his hand. You let out a sigh of relief when he helps you, clutching your hand in his, letting you squeeze him.
“How’s everyone else? Holding up alright?”
He tells you all about what's happened since, holding your hand gently when the doctors come in and start discussing your life after the military. The talk about the discharge process, the medication and checkups you’ll have to go through, and the supposed benefits you get.
He wants to promise he’ll be there for all of it, the physio and surgeries you’ll need to have. But he knows that mission was one of a sequence. If he wanted your sacrifice to be worth it, then he had to do the best he could in the next ones.
—
It’s been six months since, and he’s sat in the helicopter back. They did it.
Everyone is safe, the town, the city, the country even. They did exactly as told, improvised when things went wrong, supported eachother when things got rough. Now here they were, the enemy dead and likely ripped apart by now, some of their subordinates behind bars.
And yet, he didn't feel satisfied one bit.
Johnny leans on his right, and Gaz on his left. But he’d always give you the first choice of where you wanted to sit. He’s used to seeing ten pairs of shoes on the metal floor, two of them nudging his just to rile him up a little.
The sergeants have fallen asleep already, and Price’s head leans down with his eyes closed— Ghost knows well he’d never actually be resting. So he sits and he watches, playing caretaker, pretending you’re here for him to pat you down for any injuries.
It’s in that moment that he had a thought he cannot ignore, a burn that keeps eating a hole in his chest. It’s more than the trauma, harsher than guilt, even stronger than his loyalty to the team.
He knows now that it has no end to its greed— unless he does something about it.
-
He hears the sound of the barks before he realises what he’s even doing, and he looks up to realise his hand had already knocked on the door of your new flat. It takes a few moments before he hears the steps approach, a key fumbling in the lock. “I-i’m sorry, who is it?”
He swallows sharply; it’s never been easy hearing you like that. So weary, unlike yourself and weirdly.. at ease. “Simon.” He responds and the barks grow louder until the door finally opens, revealing the dog looking up at him expectantly and then you.
“Go on, you can have him.” The dog accepts your command, jumping on him immediately as Simon tries to placate her, holding his arms out.
“Missed you too, girl. You been taking care her good? Hm?” He ruffles the dog’s ears as it barks, paws reaching up on him in a desperate plea to hold him. “Okay— okay, not the mask, please.”
—
Your laughter dies down as he helps you back into the flat towards your couch, before sitting down beside you. His cargos crunch as he does, stiff compared to your soft joggers, a sweater worn as well to stop yourself from trying to itch at your burn marks.
“You doing okay?” He mumbles quietly, laying his jacket across the back of the couch as he settles, not too far, but not too close.
“I should be asking you that.” You chuckle, adjusting yourself until your back hits the couch. At your feet curls the service dog Price got for you. It’s an adorable german shepherd who you named Poppy and always takes rest whenever Simon comes over. You say it’s because she knows he’ll keep you safe. “So, how’d it go?”
But he wasn't here when you first got her, and it took regular visits to finally stop the growling at him.
“He’s dead. All of them are locked up.. and we’re done.” He huffs out and you nod, smiling gently as you reach out for his hand. Since you cant see his expressions, you repeatedly reach for his hand instead these days. Somehow you always figure out what he’s thinking too. “Came back last night, debrief was this morning..”
He lets you grasp his palm, and you graze your fingers over his gloves, trying to hide away his thoughts. “You don't have to rush here, you know. You should be resting after all this.” You frown, noticing the tightness within his joints, the way his hands slightly clench.
“I do.” He argues too suddenly, gently pulling his hand away from you and you hear the rustle as he wipes it on his jeans. “I.. I mean, it’s not like I'd actually get sleep anyway. And someone had to fill you in.”
He watches your smile thankfully quirk back up again, and you slowly nod after a moment. “Alright.. if you say so. I haven’t eaten, do you want takeaway?”
–
The rest of the evening is spent as you usually do, munching on the nearest chinese takeaway place as you watch the worst sitcom possible. Or well, you listen to it, and thank the media for audio descriptions. But he still notices, he always does.
“You’re tired, aren't you?”
Every time it’s the same question, and every single time you cant even bring yourself to say otherwise. Still, it’s been months since he’s asked it and not just because of the mission. With him visiting, you had been doing better— you thought you were actually healing. But you hadnt clearly.
Slowly you nod, and you can already imagine the expression his eyes would display. The slight narrow of his eyes, almost thoughtful, and then his mask would tighten near his ear, his jaw clenching.
The couch creaks as he rises, a sign you know too well, and you begin to hear his footsteps patter towards the bedroom. The jingle of the dog’s bell follows as she joins him, the sound disappears for a few moments before it reappears with her snout nudging your hand. “Thank you, Poppy.” You smile, taking the pajamas from her jaws before lightly looping your hand on her leash so she can lead you into the bathroom.
-
“I’ll help you.” He takes your hand gently, leading you slowly with his other hand on the small of your back. Slowly you settle at the head of the bed, fluffed pillows and a thicker headboard he installed previously cushioning you in.
He pulls the covers up over your lap, the bed creaking on the other side of where you’re sat. You feel Poppy nose your hand, before heading over to her fluffy bed in the corner— content that Simon would help you tonight.
“How is it?” He whispers and you hum, licking your lips nervously as all the fears teeter on the tip of your tongue. Still, you couldn't bear to burden him somehow.
“I..” You begin, preparing to lie like you had done to Price just earlier on the phone, like you did to Soap when he asked how you were doing. “I-it’s been the same, for months. I.. barely get any rest at all.”
He doesn't need you to explain further, he already knows what eats at you. The recurring nightmares had not only brought back the mission that left you like this, but everything since the beginning of this career. That’s what he thinks the problem is, anyway.
“Did you speak to the therapist about it?” You hadnt really told any of them that you’d been seeing a therapist, but it’s likely common knowledge that you were forced to by Price. Still, Ghost had always scoffed at the on base ones, practically scowling when the doctors wouldn't prescribe him more sleep medication. You had almost been afraid to tell him, and so you just.. never did.
“I.. a little. Just mentioned it. I’m trying to get them to leave me alone—“ You begin, defending your case but you feel the air still, like he’s glaring at you.
“You need their help.”
“No way— i can take physio therapy but I dont need someone psychoanalysing me” Your throat clogs up with each word, head shaking adamantly throughout it all.
“Stubborn.” He huffs, and you feel his weight draw closer on the bed, shuffling right up beside you. “I’ll stay the night— but we’re talking about this in the morning.”
The heavy weight of his hand on your shoulder bites back any arguments you had, and he is right— you’re exhausted. You always slept better with him beside you anyway.
————-
“Whose the closest?”
“I am.” You answered immediately, even though you could see Soap was nearing it too, and Gaz. But you couldnt let them go, and so it tumbled out before you could even think about it.
“And you want to go ahead with it?”
It was silent for a moment, and you realised you had nodded instead of speaking aloud. “Yes. Moving in now sir.”
Was now the time to say goodbyes? You hadn’t really thought about the risk all that much apart from the fact you refused to let any of them get hurt.
They were stronger than you in every regard, that much was obvious and losing one of them to a discharge… no, no way.
Your feet come to a halt before the area you need to detonate the bomb at, and you glance at the hiding space they had detailed for you to take cover in. Not that it looked particularly all that safe.
So you pressed the button and ran, dashing into that corner. You could leave now, let the earth take you in the prime of your career, saving the people you love. But there was one man you couldnt bear to not see again. So when you dashed into that spot, you hid your head and prayed you’d get out of this alive— to tell him the truth at least once and not from an excerpt of your diary.
—————-
“Simon!” You choke as you jolt upright, blinking rapidly to try and find them, where were they? They had pushed you out of the way, tried to do the bomb themselves, they didn't let you take the fall. “Johnny? Kyle?”
You can't see— why can't you see? Everything is dark all around, no light and nothing— are you buried alive? Where are they? Where’s your team?
You realise you’re sobbing hard when Poppy barks, rubbing her head across your face and smearing the wet tears across your skin. She presses herself into you and thats when you feel your hands pulled from where they’re desperately scratching at your eyes.
“Breathe slowly, in and out.”
Right when he goes to the toilet that’s when you need bim the most— he’s absolutely not getting into heaven with the way he’s messing up like this. Maybe he should’ve told Price the truth about you and made him come and help. Johnny was always better with people than he was and Kyle always thought two steps ahead.
No— no, he swore he would protect you. That means caring too, no matter how hard it is to figure out.
Your breaths finally settle after a while, and he lets you go so your hands could clutch Poppy’s fur though still loose enough to harm your beloved dog.. She licks at your fingers as you start to relax again, breaths heavy and spaced.
“You’re not telling me the truth, are you?” You hate how it's not even accusing, almost pitiful if not for the fact that Riley doesn't pity anyone.
“I can't take it anymore.” You sniffle, wiping your eyes as your other hand strokes through her fur, quietly praising her help through all of the panic.
He remembers hearing you calling his name— all of their names, desperate and pleading. Not for help, but to help them. It makes his chest ache with guilt— why do you carry the burden of this care so heavy when it should be the other way around?
His hand takes your again, gentle this time like you usually would, gloves disappeared somewhere. You squeeze his bare skin, let your fingers run over the warmth of the blood running beneath, follow every vein peeking through. It’s rare he lets you touch him bare like this, but you take it greedily every time, mapping every line in his skin.
“Tell me.”
“I hate it.” You mumble out, feeling Poppy lay her head on your lap and instinctively letting out a small sigh. “Not being able to see.”
You’ve never once commented on your blindness before— he always had believed it was the visions you saw so vividly that got you worked up. After all, they all have their fair share of it too. How had he failed to realise how much it affected you this entire time? “That’s why you called out for us?”
You nod quietly to his words, feeling his hand squeeze yours harder. “I-i just hate the fact i’ll never see you all ever again.” The sniffles start up again and he comes to sit properly on the bed before you, both his hands clutching yours now. “I want to see you, I want to know if you’re okay, I cant stand waking up like this every day Simon..”
The tears start to roll again and all he could do is quietly contemplate your words. There was nothing he could do to help you— no magic fix to make you see again.
“It’s been a hard year for you, i’m sorry, Sarge.” He squeezes your palms, not knowing how else to console you. “But we’re back now, alright? You made that happen. And we’ll come by often aswell— every damn day if you want me to. Weekly team nights like we used to— and if we do play a prank on Price, i’ll make sure it’s one you can hear.”
“You dont have to.. i just.. I'll never see your face either..” You sniffle out, tears settling again. It’s stupid, and he doesn't owe you anything but that’s one thing you always hoped to someday see. If you could be trusted enough to see his face, you’d be complete.
“I’d consider yourself better off not seeing our ugly mugs anymore.” He says it in an attempt to even try and make you laugh, because if he knows anything, it’s that every mission he makes those terrible jokes to ease the lines creasing your face.
“Still can if you want though.” His thumb rubs the tear away before you hear the soft rustle of fabric, and then a cloth placed in your hands. You recognise the texture as his mask.
Your head moves up, eyes looking towards his face desperately, hoping that for a second it wouldn’t just be a blur of darkness, and you would finally see it. Then he picks up your hand, lifting it up until your finger tips touch warm skin, rough and scarred, but so, so warm.
He lets you bring your other hand too, both of them covering the expanse of his cheeks before they trail higher, dipping in and out of scars and ragged flesh, meeting at his nose. Then up the bridge, over his forehead and to his temples. His eyelashes brush against your fingertips, and his jaw is softer, defined but round.
“Thank you, Simon.” You can't help the smile that pulls across your lips, the feeling of him beneath your hands, the picture you’ve been painting in your mind. He’s exactly how you expected, and nothing short of handsome.
It makes your cheeks burn, a playful giggle slips out as you hear his tiny groan, “I’m rolling my eyes right now, I hope you know.” because of all people, you’re pinching Simon Riley’s cheeks.
Little do you know how hard he’s smiling too— It’s still exhilarating to see you giggling this hard just because you get to touch him. And he’s damn proud he’s made you smile after all of that.
“Alright, you can have your fun in the morning, you rascal.” He pinches your cheeks and nudges you back against the cushions as you squeal, eyes bright and pulling him down with you, hands wrapping behind his neck. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Mhm.. i know. One second.. Need to message Price something..” This would’ve been the first of a hundred nights he saved you from your own spiral, and he never wants to see you wake up in such terror ever again. Not if he can help it.
“What is it?”
“You’ll find out.” He smiles wide at your clueless face, glancing down at the text one more time before hitting send. It’s about time he finally sent this through– the documents were all waiting on his desk anyway.
No more ops for me Captain, i’ll have the papers to you by tomorrow morning. Sergeant needs me more than any sniper needs a holder.
————
Two weeks later you’re trying to go about your day when Poppy suddenly leads you to the door, just as a knock goes off.
“Simon.” He says before you can even ask, and this time when you open it you hear wheels dragged inside too.
“What’s that?”
“A suitcase.” He says, confusing you even more. He takes your hand gently, handing you a small box.
You open it carefully, finger tips grazing the soft velvet until you find the metal in the middle, cold and round. There’s small ridges atop of it, ones your nail scratched against. It takes you a moment to realise what it is, to take it into your hand and give him it once more to let him slip it on.
He clutches your hand tight, and you feel him tense as he takes a deep breath.
Hiya! I love your Simon fics!!! The fluff is so goooood!!
I was wondering if you would be ok with doing one where there’s some kind of situation (where fem reader isn’t *exactly* in danger) where reader gets insulted/followed or something by someone (she doesn’t get hurt though!!!) and Simon just loses it and is overcome with the need to protect his love?
Ofc it’s up to you!!! Pls continue writing! You’re so good! 💕💕
Thank you for all your support! Sorry for the late reply, here’s the drabble you wanted :), if you want it with a bit more comfort let me know, i can make a second part
——————
Working a desk job was far simpler than any field work, that was for sure, and working in admin was far easier too. Though, that didn’t mean it was all sunshine and rainbows there, infact a lot of people used it as an excuse to treat you harsher.
The door almost slams behind you if not for your foot slightly catching it, letting it shut silently as you drop your bag by the front door. Luckily, Simon got home before you so you can walk over to the back of the couch and wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a very loud groan. “Did you just exorcise a demon?” He grunts, making you giggle and press a kiss to his temple— you like how his eyes always instinctively close when you do that. “The demons of work, yes.”
After sliding your socks off and into the laundry basket, you patter your way over to drape your body against him, his arm quickly curling around you. “Do ya know a guy called Jason?” You ask, tilting your head up at him and he hums, his fingers coming to rest on your chin, lightly rubbing your cheek now.
“Know a few. Blonde buzzcut? Sergeant?” He watches as you nod in agreement, and then you sigh, hands settling on his arm.
“Keeps asking us to do all sorts for him, and then gets mad when we have other things in priority first. It’s just annoying.”
“Is he being rude to you?” You can only shake your head and sit upright once more— there was no time to rest when dinner had to be made, and you were still in your work clothes anyway. “Nah, he’s smart enough not to act up. I mean, if he annoys us then who will do it for him?”
Simon can only smirk at your cheekiness, standing up and tugging you upright too. “Tha’s right, come on, let’s get some food in ya.”
———————————————-
The guy was not smart enough.
“I’m sorry, we can’t tell you who's in your new troop because we have to request permission for you to access their files.” You argue, still trying to finish up other requests for at least 10 other lieutenants about far more pressing matters. Not to mention how messy your desks are right now; orientation for the new rookies starts soon and it’s hell trying to organise them all.
“This is stupid! I asked you three days ago.” He lays his palm flat on your desk, staring down at you in a way that’s almost threatening. Another woman opposite peers over, narrowing her eyes at him. “Sir, they havent finalised the details. We cant give any files without confirmation.” She insists, trying to make him back off and you silently thank her when he turns.
“Can we try to get it for you tonight?” You offer, before she strangles him— you cant blame her either, he’s being so annoying. It’s common knowledge on base how secure each process is, but he just can't seem to fathom it.
“Tonight then. And i’ll be waiting.”
—-
He follows you around for nearly the entire day.
It’s creepy, suspicious even and you sometimes try to hurry up your steps only for him to conveniently walk past you like it’s a warning of what could come. To be honest, you’re a little scared, even if you know he can't really do anything. The action alone is intimidating, especially when you’re just trying to drop some files off with officers and they laugh saying you have a ‘secret admirer’. No, that’s a man with a grudge, an anger boiling inside of him.
When you make it back to the office, your body fills with relief, since he doesnt dare to come inside before he gets chewed out again. But still, with every trip across base you watch your back, swallowing every time you see a glimpse of blonde.
The end of your workshift starts to near, and you anxiously tap your foot, looking at the email declining the permission for him to have the files. It’s clear as day, but he just cant take no for an answer.
“Give it to me already.” The sergeant scoffs, walking over as soon as the clock ticks six, standing right before your desk.
“They’ve declined the offer— i cant give it to you.” You show him the email on your screen but he just spits, like some stupid dog, his broad arms crossing over his chest.
“That’s a lie. Why wouldn't I have permission? Do you know who I am?”
“Yes but—“
“No. Tell me, who am I, missy? Come on, use your words.”
You’re at a loss for them though, staring at him like he grew a tail or something.
“What? Are you scared now? I’m pretty strong you know; i dont hit women, but..” He sneers, leaning down towards you with his teeth flashing in an ugly smile. “Who am I, Miss?”
“Wanker, that’s what you are.”
His shoulder has sharp indents from where Simon’s fingers press into the skin, bypassing the muscle like it’s nothing but jelly as he grips him. You watch in shock as the man tries to struggle only for Simon to shove his knee into the back of his legs, making him buckle.
“L-lieutenant-“ He whimpers, struggling to compose himself when the hold on him is so harsh, almost akin to how they would treat an enemy soldier. “I was just- just asking for—“
“For some directions to the nearest toilet I hope, I think you just wet yourself.”
The man visibly panics and Simon just snorts when he grabs at his pants, only to find nothing there. “Made you look, idiot.” You crack a smile, though hide it behind a cough before you start bursting into laughter at the act.
“Lieutenant Riley- surely, surely we can t-talk this out..?”
Simon pushes his hand firmly against his back, pushing the man against the front of your desk before finally letting go, standing back with his arms crossed.
“An apology.”
“I’m sorry-“
“To her, idiot.” Simon grabs him by the arm and spins him around to face you, one hand on his back as if threatening to break his jaw on that table next. “Go on.”
“I- i’m so sorry Miss..”
“Say her name.”
The man falls silent, faltering as he doesnt know your name, hell he could only barely tell you apart from the girl who worked next to you. She was now snickering behind her desk, her phone out as she sneakily filmed the whole ordeal.
“Tsk. You dont even know her name?” Simon scoffs, yanking him upright by his collar before shoving him back again. “Fine. How about i take you up on your offer, since you’re ‘pretty strong’?”
Jason squirms instantly, his throat bobbing nervously as he shakes his head over and over. “No— that was a joke, i swear. I didnt mean it like that. I just— i mean she might know me- because i’m strong-“
“No.” The word is so firm he shuts up immediately, staring at Simon who could only stare down at him. “Go get yourself in the second training room now. If I don't find you there in five minutes, you’ll be taking a very nice solo trip across the world.” Before you know it, he’s scurried off, rushing down the halls with his boots stomping against the floors.
“Bit much?” You tilt your head at your lover, though your grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused by the whole ordeal. Meanwhile his eyes soften at you, walking around to place a quick kiss to your cheek.
“Never too much. I’ll be late home tonight, put in an extra fish for me will ya?” You nod, letting his hands cup your cheeks as he checks you over, before silently glancing over the other women in the office. “Didnt touch ya, did he?” You shake your head and he hums in satisfaction, reaching back for the small box he brought you. “Came by because they had your favourite cake in stock. Bought some for the girls too, share it ‘round.”
Your eyes light up in glee as he hands you it, having not had it in months now. “Really? Thank you Si!” You hug him tight, before pattering over to where the girls have conveniently decided to have a coffee chat— aka leaving you two love birds alone.
He watches you all with a smile beneath his mask, before it curves up into something a little more sly as he thinks about what’s waiting for him in that training room. Well, he has been a little rusty recently, and the training dummies just aren't realistic enough for good practice.
Neglected weapons designer still has my whole heart!! Soo much angst potential esp after reader leaves and the team realizes how good they were at their job, nobody else could compare!! Do you think they would receive disciplinary action over it?? If you ever felt up to a part three i would eat that shit up so quick ❤️ zero pressure I just love that big beautiful brain of yours :)
HELLO HI omg sorry i’ve been through hell and back in the past 4 weeks not literally just lots and lots of work and upkeeping fics for other fandoms and AH
I loved writing that fic, both chapters! Both were born because i was pissed at something and someone LOL but it also happened to be during exam szn, hence the part 3 that never came.
They wont get disciplinary action, no, but i did say to one comment that Laswell will get involved. She does NOT play abt us. They will also regret it, in their own terms…. But it doesnt mean reader will get much vengeance, at least currently i dont plan to anyway.
Can you tell i really like angst?
OKAY i do plan to do a part 3, i DO want to. I just have reallllyyyyy big exams like actually changes the course of my life like if i dont do super super well i wont get into my dream university exams and well yeah
They end in june so it’s not the longest break ever… but a pretty long one. Also I’m totally not a robot so i probably will end up writing between exams to keep myself sane. Just will take a lot longer than when I usually do! Im sorry for the wait!
oh my gosh, I am in so love with rookie reader and Simon eeeekkkk! Their dynamic is actual pure heart eyes and I’m so excited to see what else you do! It makes me entire month just ready one part 🤭
I just had the cutest thought too for them, imagine reader finds another piece of clothing from Simon, like a shirt or something with his last name on it that he was gonna throw away and she adopts it without him knowing bc it’s such a comfy shirt! And like one night while she’s getting ready for bed she puts it on bc he’s not supposed to be back bc of a mission or meeting, but he comes back to the room earlier than expected and he sees it on her and just short circuits. Bc let’s be so for real, something like would make him malfunction bc she’s wearing HIS last name. Just imagine with me for a sec UGH
omg this is actually GOLDD for the kiss chapter it was actually supposed to be a scene of where reader accidentally grabs one of his jackets in rush and walks around the entire day wearing lieutenant riley hehe and then he’d find her and pull her into his office and kiss her 🙈🙈🙈
but i love this so much too omg!! Especially with him supposed to be on a mission, imagine her wearing it beneath her uniform while he’s gone because she misses him :(((
and just like you said he sees it and totally malfunctions omg im adding this to the idea list STAT.
