The name of Kyle illuminated Johnny’s phone. The Scottish paused in whatever he was doing, currently cooking eggs in his pans, as he answered the phone.
“Yeah, bud?”
“Do you know how to do algebra?” The man on the other line sounded exhausted and tired.
“Who doesn’t, we are in the SAS, Kyle.”
“No- no- not our kind of algebra, the new kind. They keep changing maths in the school program, and I can’t even help my kid!”
“Put me in face time, it should be easy!” Johnny put his eggs on a plate.
It wasn’t easy. Johnny barely understood the assignment. He read it so many times his eyes started to hurt. He attempted to do the algebra, while Kyle attempted to do the same, and his kid was asleep on the kitchen table. They didn’t have any choice but to call Simon.
How did they get Simon’s number? Well… Johnny might have seen it once and committed it to his memory. The English man was not happy, hastily pulling a facemask over his face when he realized he was on FaceTime.
“Wut?!”
“Algebra, mate. Harder than the Siberian cold. Bitting our ass-“
“Johnny! My kid is here!” Kyle whispered angrily to his best mate. But the kid was still asleep at the kitchen table.
Simon told himself it was going to be easy. He had been in the SAS, he had passed off exams. And yet, he found himself defeated by the simple algebra homework showed by Kyle.
“What are we doing, in our school? Torturing kids with this?” He spoke, papers around him.
“How come we didn’t get the same answer?!” Johnny exclaimed.
Ultimately, they called the captain. The captain looked bedraggled, groaning and complaining of being awoken late at night. Kyle explained the situation. The captain sighed, told him to wait for a minute. Then, he appeared on the phone several moments later, holding a huge book.
“My wife is a teacher.” He explained, showing off the results and the method to do it. “We are helping this once. Teach your kid to do it alone.”
Well, the kid who pretended to be asleep smirked. Because they had wanted to have their favourite uncles talking around the table tonight.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : hybrid!reader platonic 141 implied age gap for reader : reader’s a german shepherd.
When you first arrived at the team, you noticed how they’d hover around you all the time, never leaving you alone. always dragging you into nests and taking care of you.
They’re your pack, of course, but you always felt like you were treated differently.
That’s because they consider you—their only dog in the pack, their pup.
You’re a whiny (as most German Shepherds are) tiny thing that likes biting, what else could you be?
That’s pup behaviour. They bring you random things to chew on as if you’re still on the teething phase. It’s cute, but can be infuriating at times!
And you don’t really help yourself with your obsession for play fighting with Gaz—or when you let out those whines as a form of communication.
You’re so much shorter than the rest of the men in the team, it’s better if you’d just admit that yes, you are their pup.
It started off as a sniffle. Then you threw up mere feet away from the toilet. Needless to say, your morning was off to such a terrible start.
“Remember to drink water, birdie,” Kyle called from the common area couch, sipping his tea. You trudged to the armchair, giving him a nasty look.
“‘Remember to drink water’—“ You sneered before succumbing to a coughing fit. You curled up on the chair, sipping your water like a gerbil. “Of course I will.” Kyle raised a brow.
You always got insanely snappy, and bitchy, when sick. You knew you were being mean but man, you couldn’t stop yourself. You were just tired of everyone hovering over you.
“I can fuckin’ take care of myself. I’m not a child.” You continued, glowering at Kyle with glazed over eyes. You reminded him of a petulant child. It would’ve been adorable, if not because of the circumstances.
“I never said you couldn’t take care of yourself, sweetheart,” Kyle replied calmly. He puts his mug down on the coffee table. “I just think you merely forget what your body needs at times.” You were about to protest, yet again, when he placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Hm…not as warm as you were earlier. Not the best either.”
You blinked. His warm brown eyes just looked so inviting, it made you melt like a puddle. He smiled a little before ruffling your hair. “You messed it all up.” You pout.
“It was messed up before.” Kyle countered, draping a blanket over you. You sneezed in response. “Poor thing.”
It wasn’t a huge surprise when you fell asleep shortly after, clutching onto Kyle like he was your lifeline. Kyle, as always, didn’t necessarily care. It’s not like he had better things to do.
Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Single Mom (COD MW(2/3))
Warning: Fluffy stuff, Baby Fever, MAJOR BABY FEVER
Summary: Simon Riley isn't too particular about babies, until he meets yours.
Word Count: ~1,670 words
Master List | Tag List Request (Tag List At The Bottom)
A/N: I loved writing this, it's been on my mind for a while. I didn't like the ending because I didn't know how to end it lol
Edit: Pronouns and names were all over the place but it should be fixed lmao thanks for letting me know
Imagine being chosen by someone. Someone intentionally looking at you and thinking - contemplating, deciding - and choosing to pick you. It’s as simple as picking you to ask for directions, ordering a cup of coffee, and begging to touch your skin.
But it’s something special when someone as small as a little child is looking at you and choosing you. No one knows what goes on in their mind, behind those curious eyes, those rosy and chubby cheeks, that little button nose, that babbling little mouth with teeth fighting to make way. No one knows what those cute little chubby cherubs think when they decide to reach out to grab anything and everything in sight.
The grip of a child is mightier than anyone Lieutenant Simon Riley has ever seen.
Lieutenant Simon Riley - the infamous Ghost. He’s not supposed to exist. The enigma.
Yet… out of anyone who could have found him and had a mighty grip on his gray fleece jacket was your little chunky cherub made of a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, looking at him with big curious eyes, absorbing information like a sponge. Your little infant son of nine months old, sitting comfortably in a little wrap carrier so that he can comfortably lay against your chest, he has seen Simon and reached out and grabbed a little handful of his gray fleece jacket with no intention of letting go.
It was a quick day for you so you didn’t need the baby carriage today, the wrap keeping your son against your chest would suffice, you liked having your baby against your chest anyways. In the city, it was easy to get around by walking and public transport, but you needed something in the next town over so you had to take the train. The platform for the train was nearly empty, you were early, so you had some time to yourself and your little boy giggling and babbling away, occasionally wiping his nose and talking to him about the plans for the day.
Slowly but surely, people started to pile in as the time went on, the train would be arriving soon.
Even a ghost needs a place to stay, right. On the occasion that he is home, he tends to stay out of his home, usually to replace food that had spoiled while he was gone. Simon arrived at the train station and waited on the platform. It wasn’t too cold, but chilly enough to wear his gray fleece jacket.
It was nice and quiet until more people started to pile up onto the train station. Usually he didn’t mind until people started to get into his personal space, which rarely happened anyways. Even in more civilian clothes, in a place where people barely recognize him, despite him living there, people tend to stay away from people who look mysterious.
As more people pile into the station, he slowly moves towards the center of the station. Huffing slightly to himself, he glances slightly at the giant clock. The train would be arriving soon. As he waited, he’d hear bits and pieces of conversations from people about their lives.
He didn’t mind it, he felt more human.
After a while, he heard something he didn’t hear often.
An animal?
No.
A baby.
The baby seemed to continue to babble, getting louder as he moved again. For some reason it made him curious. It’s not that he wasn’t fond of children, his childhood was pretty fucked up, but a child was an innocent being in this cruel world. Sometimes he wondered what he’d be like if he’d spent more time around children - or what things would be like if he had children.
But that’s just a random thought in his mind. A man like Lieutenant Simon Riley - with the sins and atrocities he’s been through and committed, he has no business having children. He is the one mothers tell their children to stay away from. He is the boogeyman underneath a child’s bed.
Hearing the babbling again, he instinctively turns his head and looks around for a moment, then looks down, seeing the source of this little creature.
An infant child, probably no more than 9 months old, a drool covered fist in his mouth, the other arm flailing in every direction. And you, holding your child wrapped in a long cloth and tied around your waist, Simon couldn’t figure out how you held the chunky child on your chest with just a scarf.
You were on the phone with someone talking about baby related things. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and your baby. Such a mundane sight. A mother and her child. He glanced at your hand caressing your child’s chubby and rosy cheeks.
No ring. Single mom? No wait, that’s rude.
Cracking a small smile at the sight, he looked at the child for a moment, finding amusement in how you tried to sooth your child as you talked on the phone, swaying your hips slightly. You kept your eyes on your little cherub the entire time, playing with your son’s cheeks, making him giggle and smile, occasionally acknowledging him, calling him your honey bun.
Then you got caught up with your conversation and looked away. Your child looked around for a moment, content and happy. Simon didn’t know what he found so amusing and intriguing about this child. When he thought about children, he thought of crying little messes, unruly children, little rascals who were nothing but trouble.
This little dough-boy? He had an urge to just poke his little rosy cheeks. You were holding your son, Simon practically stood right next to you but he couldn’t tell you what you were talking about. Your little cherub had dampened his senses.
More people started to fill the train station. The train would soon arrive. Simon was practically next to you. At this point, he didn’t mind being next to you and your baby. As more people surrounded the three of you, you glanced up at Simon and smiled sheepishly and mouthed ‘Sorry’ in an attempt to apologize in case she’d bumped into him. Simon saw as you wrapped your free arm tighter around your baby that was tightly wrapped against your chest.
It’s ok. You’re fine. He didn’t even know you, but he didn’t want anything to happen to you or your baby.
He knew the train would be arriving soon so he looked up at the time and looked to see if the train would be coming soon. Staring was rude. He had manners.
Not even a moment passed after he looked away did he feel a slight tug on his arm. Suddenly aware of his surroundings he looked down again. Your little munchkin demanded attention from the behemoth of a man named Simon. You were still on the phone, looking away.
Simon smiled at the sight and sighed in relief. You little rascal. Their eyes met, for such a cute little thing, your son looked at Simon intently, studying him. Simon was wondering what he was thinking. The little hand that had such a strong grip on his fleece jacket tugged at him to come closer.
“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” Simon said, using his other hand to wave at your child, making him smile slightly and let out a gleeful sound.
You turned your head at the sound and laughed at the sound of your son laughing, then blushed when you realized he was pulling on Simon’s sleeve. She quickly said her good-bye on the phone and hung up, then looked up at Simon, smiling sheepishly.
“I-I’m sorry, sir-” You gently pulled on your baby’s arm to try and get him to let go of his arm.
Simon let out a small chuckle as he waited patiently, smiling at the sight, “It’s fine. He’s got a mighty grip, alright.”
You chuckled as your child started babbling at Simon, as if he could be understood, refusing to let go despite your attempt to make him unhand Simon, “Once they got you, they don’t want to let go.”
You glanced up at Simon, seeing a small smile on the man. He reached up also with his free hand and gently held the child’s wrist, “I ain’t going anywhere, you can let go of me now. I think we’re going on the same train.”
Your child finally let go but continued to try and reach out for Simon, instantly taking a liking to him. You sighed as you looked up at Simon, the train finally approaching, “I’m sorry again, sir-”
“It’s fine, really. You’ve got a cute one.” Simon smiled at you and your child, who was still mesmerized by him.
You smiled up at him in return, glancing down at your son, then back up at Simon, “Haha yeah, he is something.”
Once the train doors opened, people quickly exited the train as quickly as people entered.
“This is my train-” You looked up at him and then toward the train, then attempted to walk forward. But people rushed around them. You kept your arms around your child and Simon felt the need to stay close, this way people would actually walk around you as you and Simon stepped into the train.
Once inside, you found a seat and sighed as you sat down. The seats filled up quickly and Simon ended up sitting opposite of you and your baby.
Smiling awkwardly at each other, you apologized again for your son grabbing onto him.
“It’s fine, really. I like his determination.” Simon looked at him as you turned slightly so Simon could see her son’s face, who smiled when he saw Simon again. “What’s his name?”
“Joseph. But I think he likes being called Joey.” You said as she caressed little Joey’s cheek as he cooed at Simon.
Simon gave her and Joey a genuine smile this time. Joseph… Tommy’s son…
“I’m Simon, what’s your name?” He looked up at her.
By popular demand, following of this little one shot.
Okay. So you move your entire life to the USA. You’re eating with Shadow Company, you’re doing missions together. The pay? Good, even better than you were earning in the British military. Surprisingly, you even get better health benefits. You wonder if you truly made a deal with the devil. You get a nice little one bedroom home, tends to your garden. You’re genuinely happy.
Then, one of the guys, Lewis Anderson, gives you a little enveloppe. Inside, there is a card, inviting you to his baby shower. You feel at peace, dressed up, you even brought a little gift. You get invited to barbecues and to parties and to recitals- your life is good for a while.
Until you have to go on a joint mission with Task Force 141- for some reasons.
You don’t understand why you’re even on board for this one. Graves knew, he recruited you because he saw how miserable you were with the 141. Was he using you to get back at them? Maybe. Did you care? A little but as long as they didn’t talk to you, you were fine.
Unfortunately for you, you’re with them and two other Shadows. The ride in the armed vehicle is tense. Too tense. You don’t look at them, just at the point of your rifle and your shoes. But you can feel their stares, their disappointed and disapproving stares. And you want to tell them that it’s their fault. That you tried to be friendly. To be on good terms with them but they didn’t let you in their tight little boy club. That the Shadows are nice despite their oblivious flaws, that you get invited to barbecues and to baby showers. That Commander Graves is always handing out compliments to his men and that you feel valued.
But nothing gets out of your mouth. None of it.
You believe they don’t care anyway. They never showed their friendliness toward your person. Why should you lay out your heart to them?
And yet, when in the middle of the operation, the building you are in crumble and explode, that you feel yourself falling through hard concrete ceilings, you hear them in your earpiece. The Shadows obviously. But not only.
Captain Price yells at you, demanding your status. Soap and Gaz tries to pinpoint your exact location under the rubbles. Ghost tries to insist on the mission. That you’ll be fine. But you hear it, the slight panic in his tone.
As you lay there, your fate uncertain, the Shadows in one ear continuing the mission and one detachment trying to find your buried form, and at the other ear, the 141 attempting to find you without the help of the shadows, despite the pain you feel and the dread of your own death… you feel like a child of divorce, being tugged by one parent and the other.
You’re Simon’s long lost little sibling, the offspring of many cheatings his father had done. You are basically in kindergarten while he is in 30’s.
And your father, to spite his eldest son, decided to put him as your legal guardian, convincing your mother to do it by some means.
Simon’s father leaves. Your mother die. You’re left alone until they contact Simon, who learnt his father had a child and two, that he is now your legal guardian.
He, a 34 year old behemoth, is now guarding his sibling who is 4 year old.
How did you come to this position? A man named John Price posted an announcement on a website, and you, being an international student, asked to be taken in.
From what you understood, the flat was big. Five bedrooms, a big kitchen… and your room has a private bathroom. When you flew up to England, John Price welcomed you. As he drove you to his place, he explained to you why he was looking for a roommate. Working in the army, he was often away with his team. Team that shared the flat, it seemed.
You were a bit scared at first. Why? Because there were four strong men eating steroids for breakfast living with you. They were nice though. Very welcoming, very friendly as well, they tried to put you at ease.
You always got food too. A nice breakfast prepared for you by one of the guys, a coffee or tea here and there when you were studying late. And indeed, they were often leaving for a long time.
The most annoying thing?
You understood quickly they were all kind of together. Like a four way marriage. And well… it came with… sounds at night that woke you up. You were very embarrassed, and you explained to John you needed to sleep and sometimes the sounds… bothered you.
So he bought you expensive sound blocking headphones.
“Can’t believe this shit-“ Simon mumbled as he pulled the zipper of the bunny suit. “Can’t believe this shit-“
“It’s for the kids Simon.” Price said softly, because the event was for the children who had lost a parent in the British military.
And Mrs MacTavish would be here with Soap’s kid, you.
But when Simon stepped in the park- all children screamed and scram, frightened by the sudden appearance of the Easter Bunny. All, except you. Who stares. Who smiles brightly with a missing tooth. You don’t speak, you stopped when your mommy told you your daddy will not come home.
You hugged his leg and rubbed your face in the soft fur. Simon’s too hot in the suit, but his breath hitches. He can’t believe that he was about to do this. In a higher pitch tone, he began to tell jokes, which made you laugh. And he gave you chocolate. He saw your mother staring. He did not look.
