Something something the Task Force meets the captain’s wife.
Cw // suggestive content at the very end, inaccurate timelines, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader describe as having curves, hmmmmm not proofread :p blep
COD MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
She’s a pretty little thing, but the way she carries herself isn’t meek or shy. She’s self assured. There’s something domineering about the way she walks into the room, body clad in a hot pantsuit, heels clicking across the floors of the military base. Her manicured hands are holding onto something tightly.
She walks into the lounge, poking her head in. “Excuse me?” She says, voice smooth. “I’m looking for Captain Price. I’m a bit lost looking for his office.”
“Aye,” Soap answers, standing up. He puffs out his chest, looking the woman up and down. She looks good. She looks amazing. Fit. Fuck, those curves? The way the vest of her pantsuit hugs her waist? It makes the man just wanna take a bite out of her hips. “Got a meetin’ with ‘im?”
Her eyes don’t miss the way the Scott’s rake over her body. They squint at him for a bit before she looks at the other two soldiers with him. Of course, Simon, she recognizes. The other man with dark skin and dark eyes, youthful and charming, she does not. “Just got some files to drop off,” she tells, as if that was all that needed to be told.
Simon can see the way Soap keeps looking at her, like she’s a piece of meat. Part of him wants to stop him, tell him that he’s playing with fire. The other part tells him to leave it; let the Captain see. He could use a good laugh.
Ultimately, he stands from where he’s sitting. Price would have Simon’s head if he let Soap continue to eye up his wife. “Can show ya, Missus Price,” he quietly grunts.
She smiles fondly at him. “Thank you, Si,” she says sweetly, far too casually for Soap and Gaz to fathom.
If this were a cartoon, their jaws would drop to the floor, and their eyeballs would fall straight into their open mouths.
“Missus Price?!”
“Si? As in Simon?”
Gaz and Soap exclaim at the same time.
“The Captain has a wife?”
“You’re on a nickname basis with the Captain’s wife?!”
They speak in unison again. It makes her chuckle, her demeanor still cool and calm. “Well, we’ve only been married for fifteen years,” she says. “Known Simon since he first started working with John. Used to work with them myself, in fact.”
Gaz swore that the room was spinning. How have they gone this long without knowing this about their own Captain? Sure, everyone was pretty private about their personal lives, but only Simon was usually this private.
She ends up getting pulled further into the lounge, sat at the table with a cup of tea in front of her. The delivery of the files are now an after thought as Soap and Gaz bombard her with question about her and her relationship with John. All of her answers make their heads spin faster and faster as Simon nonchalantly listens, standing behind her with his arms crossed.
We met at basic training. He always had my back from day one.
We continued to work together after that. That’s how I met Simon, eventually.
We married only a couple of years after meeting. We didn’t want to miss our chance with each other.
I retired two years after getting married. I got pregnant with our first kid.
Two boys. Riley and Lucas. 13 and 10. Lights of my life. They love the brute standin’ behind me. Their favorite uncle.
Simon rolls his eyes at that one. “Their only uncle,” he grunts.
“And you’d be their favorite nonetheless, Si,” she says with a teasing smirk.
Ahem.
The sound fills the room, and everyone looks to the door. There stands John Price, his arms crossed. “Was wondering where those files were,” he says gruffly. “You said you’d arrived half an hour ago.”
She smiles up at her husband. There’s a look in her eyes. It was as if the entire universe had come to a halt. “Sorry,” she says, standing up from her seat. She grabs the files and walks them over to him. “Got distracted.”
A protective arm reaches up to wrap around her waist as his hand takes the files. “I can see that,” he says.
“Cap, ye dinny tell us ye were married!” Soap exclaims. “Ye hiding her from us? She’s a catch!”
John sneers at him. “That’s the problem. You lot can’t keep your paws to yourselves.” He sighs. “Let’s go, love. Enough of these muppets.”
She begins to walk with her husband, but not before she turns around to say goodbye to the soldiers. “It was nice meeting you guys. I’ll see you later, Si.”
Her heels click against the floor once more as John walks her to his office, quickly shutting the door behind them. He sighs as he tosses the folders onto his desk, leaning against it, his head hanging between his shoulders. He only calms down as he feels her hands begin to massage at his shoulders.
“They were sweet,” she muses. “Very… energetic?”
“Like children,” he grumbles, lifting his head to look at her. He can’t help but to smile when he sees the way she’s looking at him. Finally, he stands up straight, and he faces her. His hands grab onto her waist as he pulls her into him.
“Reminds us of our kids,” she admits, arms coming out to rest on his shoulders. “A billion questions, no patience, hungry to know anything and everything.” A giggle slips past her lips as she adds, “Nosey.”
Her hands reach out to caress his face. The feeling of his facial hair beneath her palms makes her hum in satisfaction. “Kinda makes me want another one,” she whispers.
John grunts, and his grip tightens. “Don’t tempt me, woman,” he tells her, moving her back until she’s right up against his desk. “Won’t be able to control myself. You know how I get around you.”
But she doesn’t listen. No, she only leans up and lets her lips brush against the shell of his ear as she whispers to him. “What’s one more?”
.
Ok I didn’t know how to end it. Here u go. Pls enjoy the struggle meal. I lowkey wanna write about the dynamic between the Prices and Simon here (it would be pure fluff), so lmk if ur interested.
Paring: Toxic FWB!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Sergeant!Reader; John “Soap” MacTavish x Fem!Sergeant!Reader
Summary: Simon apologizes. You forgive him.
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 1.8k
Categories: angst, hurt/kinda comfort, fluff
CWs*: alcohol consumption, simon literally hates himself but he kinda deserves it.
Notes: If you've sent me an ask or request, I promise you that I am working on it. I just needed to get this out of my brain and onto the page because it's xmas eve eve, and this is kinda holiday themed. As always, let me know what you think and what more you want in this lil series. Ask box is open!!
MASTERLIST
SERIES MASTERLIST
Do I think you’d ever forgive toxic fwb!ghost? Yeah, actually, in a way.
I think it would be a year or two into your relationship with Johnny. It’s kinda hard to celebrate things like anniversaries, birthdays, and whatnot while in the military. Sure, you could request leave, but having two sergeants away from 141 just wasn’t practical.
However, everyone was able to get some time off during the holidays, and after a couple of years of being together, you and Soap had found an apartment together. It’s cute and quaint. Perfect for just the two of you with just enough extra space to throw your first Christmas party together.
It’s small and intimate. The party includes 141, some close friends and family. This includes your oldest, protective sibling, glaring at Simon from across the room. It’s like they’re trying to explode him with their mind. Maybe you shouldn’t have told them about your situationship with Simon, but it’s too late now.
You’re pouring yourself a glass of red wine, dressed in your dark green sweater dress and a pair of tights. Your eyes scan across the room where you find Gaz and Soap standing in the entry of the hallway, trying to hang up some mistletoe. They’re both yelling at each other as Gaz is reaching up, trying to get the plant to stick, and Soap, tipsy as ever, is puckering his lips and leaning into the other man.
“Get off of me, will ya!” Gaz exclaims. “It ain’t even hung up yet. I can’t get it with you all over me!”
Soap laughs. “Just gimme a kiss, mate,” he says. “Just one!”
“Fuck sake, Johnny!”
You giggle as you take a sip from your glass, and then suddenly, your vision is filled with a broad chest. When you look up, you see his face.
His mask is off, full face on display. Deep brown eyes, crooked nose, and thin, pink lips. Simon. Today, while off duty, he is Simon. Ghost was left behind at the base. There's no gear. No bullet proof vest, goggles, or helmets. Just Simon in his light blue button up and black dress pants.
You’re a bit shaken by his sudden appearance. The two of you hadn’t been on proper speaking terms since you and Soap had made things official. The only time the two of you spoke was when it involved a mission or some paperwork. Still, you greet him with a small smile.
"Hey, L.T.."
Simon tries not to grimace at the awkwardness that fills the air. He can sense your reluctance to speak with him. He feels it every time he approaches you, not that he could blame you. It was clear to him that whatever he could have had with you was completely cooked. "Hey, love-" he stops himself. He remembers the conversation the two of you had just before you and Soap had decided to make things official.
Don't call me that! Those words ring loudly in his hears, which turn red and tingle with guilt and anguish. He couldn't help it. To him, that's what you were; you were love... Just not his.
"Sorry," he awkwardly coughs. "Was just..." He continues to stumble over his words. Fuck, this is so hard. "Can we chat - just the two of us? Think we've got a lot to talk about."
Your eyes flick over to where Gaz continues to struggle to hang the mistletoe. His arms are trying to push away your boyfriend, and John Price stands in the corner, just chuckling at the two as he sips on a glass of whiskey. Simon sees the way your gaze is averted, and he clears his throat.
"I won't take long," he promises. "I just... I wanna make things right."
You sigh and look back up at him before nodding, and you lead him out to the backyard. It's cold, and you start to shiver as the winter air bites at your skin. Once Simon sees this, he offers you the coat he’d grabbed off the hook on his way out. He knew you even if he wanted you to believe he never noticed the small things about you.
He knew that while you didn’t hate the winter, you ran cold easily. He remembers the nights where he left your naked body on your bed. The second he pulled his weight off of you, your skin would be covered in goosebumps, and you would begin to shiver. It feels like a punch to the gut as he pictures it; he couldn’t believe he’d left you like that. He didn’t even help you dress yourself.
You take a look at the jacket, and you softly smile. It’s Soap’s. It’s a big puffer jacket with a fur hoodie. You’d bought it for him a while ago, telling him you’d like to see him with a little more style. He didn’t like it, but he wore it for you. He still cherished it.
After you take the jacket from Simon and put it on, you let out a sigh, and you can see the puff of air leave your lips. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about, Lieutenant?”
You hadn’t called him Simon since the night you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore. It was always Ghost. Lieutenant. L.T.. Riley. Anything but his first name, and it shattered his heart. He couldn’t believe that he dug his grave well below six fucking feet.
“I, uh,” he stammers out. His cheeks are red, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s feeling bashful or if it’s just the cold air getting to him. “Just wanted to tell ya how sorry I am,” he finally gets out. “Just - I fucked up, real bad,” he says. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way that I did. You deserve a lot better than that…”
As he speaks, he’s looking straight at you. He needs you to understand the remorse he feels. He needs you to see the pain that he’s left himself with. If you didn’t see how much he regretted it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself anymore. He just wants you to know how fucking sorry he is.
“Simon,” you breathe out. You don’t even realize you’ve said his name. “Let’s just move on, okay?” You suggest. “I shouldn’t have… gotten so attached. You were right; we made an agreement together, and I broke it. I have no one to blame but myself.”
Simon’s brows furrow. He couldn’t understand how you could say such a thing. Why are you blaming yourself? “Nah,” he argues. “Still wrong of me. You’re a person, a far better person than I’ll ever be. You’re so kind, and you’re so beautiful. You light up every bloody room you walk into.”
His large hand reaches to the back of his neck, and he nervously tugs on the soft, blonde locks at the nape. “I just see the way that Johnny treats ya, and I always ask myself why I couldn’t just do that. I love the way you look when you smile like he’s hung the moon and the stars, and I wish I could be the reason for it. I wish I’d done better.”
Your lips form into a pout and you shake your head at him. “Simon,” you begin, but you’re unsure of what to say. All you can do is let out a sigh and give him a tight lipped smile. “I’m willing to just move on from this if you are, alright? I’m happy with Johnny, so ‘s water under the bridge, yeah?”
Simon looks at you, and he’s quiet for a moment.
No. It’s not. I want you to choose me. I want you to be mine. Please forgive me. Please be mine.
“Yeah,” he finally agrees with a nod. He goes to move inside, but he stops when he suddenly feels your arms wrapped around him.
“Thanks for the apology, L.T.,” you whisper before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
You then head inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Alone with the warmth of your lips permanently pressed into his cold cheek, just right up against the stubble. Oh, how he wished he could have felt his lips against yours. He’d missed every opportunity he was given.
It takes a minute before he can walk back inside. When he does, he sees that you’ve shrugged off your coat. Gaz is no longer struggling to get a drunk Scotsman off of him, and the mistletoe is finally hung.
“Bonnie!” Soap exclaims as you come into his line of sight. You almost drop your wine glass, the red liquid sloshing a bit onto the hardwood floor, as he pulls you into his side, right under the mistletoe.
“Fuck sake, Johnny!” You chastise, but your voice is light and filled with laughter. “Let me set down my glass before our floor gets stained.”
You hold the glass out of his way, and Price comes over to take it from you, setting it down on the coffee table.
Soap’s hands travel down your body and settle around your waist. He squeezes you, pulling you in even closer to him, and he tilts his chin up. “Looks like I’ve got you in quite the compromising position, dearie,” he teases. When he’s met with a soft laugh and eye roll, he only continues. “You know, tradition says we have to kiss now.”
Your hands reach up to cup his face, pulling his face closer to yours. “Well, then, Mactavish,” you say. “Kiss me.”
And he does. It’s in an instant that he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you can feel the way he smiles as he does so. Unbeknownst to you, all of your party guests and hooping and hollering as Gaz snaps a million photos of the two of you. You’d be sure to make it your phone wallpaper later.
In the midst of everyone cheering, there’s one soldier who remains in the quiet corner of the room, silent as he watches and takes a long sip out of the bottle of beer he’d opened long ago. The dark brown eyes of Simon Riley fill with tears, and he’s careful to not let them slip out.
He knows he should be happy for you. He should be happy for Soap, his best friend, but it was hard. He curses himself every morning he wakes up and remembers that it was Soap who’d won your heart. He’d missed his chance to call you his, and though you and the Scotsman had only been together for a year now, this was the moment that Simon Riley knew that he’d lost you forever; he knew that he’d never get the opportunity to change your last name. This was the moment he’d known that you’d unofficially become a Mactavish rather than a Riley.
That would stick with him for the rest of his life.
