Okay, wait...
Imagine, right...
Ghost is angry about something but immediately is sat when his wee wife shows up...
Pairing: Ghost×Short!Wife | Comedic | He loves his wife
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Simon Riley had never believed he would fall in love.
It simply hadn't been within the realm of things he considered even remotely possible, yet along came y/n, and he was fucked.
Immediately.
Irrevocably.
They'd met at a small pub in a shitty part of Manchester, hit it off immediately, and he'd proposed weeks later.
Yes. Weeks.
They'd been married for going on five years now, and it was the happiest he could ever recall being. Y/N was also in the military—an extraordinarily talented analyst with a penchant for the dramatic and an incredibly short temper.
Ghost had never hidden his marriage, even if he didn't divulge unnecessary information about it.
His personal life was personal, and he preferred to keep it that way.
That was why Sergeant Henrietta Fray got on his nerves so bloody badly.
She knew—knew, the same way every bastard on base knew—that Ghost was married.
She simply didn't give a fuck.
It didn't matter to her that he was married. It didn't matter who his wife was. It was all irrelevant.
Because only she was good enough for Lieutenant Simon bloody Riley.
She flirted without restraint. Touched him. Made comments that just skirted the lines of propriety, and it was driving him barmy.
Weeks, this shite had been happening. Weeks, Ghost had been biting his fucking tongue, and finally his temper boiled over.
"For fucks sake, get the fuck away f'me, you—" He jerked back when she pressed her palm against his bicep, jolting to his feet.
"Oh, c'mon, Riley. Don't be dramatic." She purred, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder.
"Dramatic? Dramatic?" He asked, utterly baffled.
His heart was pounding in his chest, the adrenaline dump making his hands shake just slightly.
He'd been moments away from absolutely dismantling Henrietta Fray when a small shadow shifted in the doorway.
"Simon. Sit down."
His arse met the couch cushion before he'd even fully processed her words, and Henny just stared, mouth agape.
Y/N stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, one brow quirked.
"Don't be doin' that. Ain't worth the trouble." Y/N murmured, walking over to him. She didn't even glance at Henny. She just plopped down on his lap, utterly unbothered.
"Good lad. See? All's good. Im 'ere. S'all that matters."
Ghost just nodded, arms wrapping around her waist, glaring at Henny as if he could make her combust with his eyes alone.
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a/n: for my wife 💙 a short queen.