Here Me Out (mentions Of Pregnancy) From The Moment Simon Put A Ring On Your Finger, You’ve Been Bent

The Years - Ghost x Reader

Ghost who met you well into your military career, an expert strategist and even better with guns, Price had added you to the team after a year of working on various missions with you.

You weren’t simple though. After joining the military to help pay for med school, you had found out that you were better at killing people than you were saving them. They’d offered to transfer you and just have you work as a medic, but you continued on and eventually found your place in the American special forces.

Price had seen your cunning, your tactical brilliance, and your speed in the field and claimed you for the 141. For the past four years you had worked with them, never not by their sides unless you were on leave.

It was in these time periods, away from you, that Ghost sat in his flat and did nothing but think of you. The way you keep your hair braided and the breath you take before firing your rifle. The fact you hate the color yellow and love Chinese takeout. Think about when a year into your time with them, right before Price had asked you to join, that your husband had cheated on you.

You had told him this story in the dark confines of a bar as Gaz, Soap, and Price had a vicious game of billiards. He hadn’t spoke the whole time, watching you with a focus not on your face but on the rage he had to keep in check

They had finished a mission early and were allowed to go on leave for the holidays, or until you were needed again. The car in your driveway had been the first sign. Upon opening the door, the moans trailing down the hallway and the clothes strewn on the floor told the story. You hadn’t bothered to go in crying, simply grabbed your handgun and kicked open the door. The bitch looked just like you.

“Did you kill ‘em?” was all Simon asked as you had trailed off, fist clenched around a heavily nursed glass of bourbon.

“No. I think back and I wish I had, but no. I could have got away with that back in Texas, but here, you brits don’t have justified murder.”

So you had joined the team, growing reckless in the field. It took a bullet to the thigh and a knife wound to the abdomen, along with four ripped stitches, for Ghost to wrestle you to the ground and demand. Demand for you to care enough about yourself to not die. To not leave him.

You came back from that final leave of absence stronger. Smiling even, as Gaz had pulled you into a hug so tight it made Ghost twitch thinking about the jagged wound in your stomach.

For those next years you had grown closer to your team, learning to rely on them and they you. Things become simple. But you aren’t simple. And so things get complicated when Soap mentions bringing in some girls after a particularly successful mission.

You tolerate the strippers for all of thirty minutes before you storm out, the sight of one of them eyeing Ghost like he’s not Simon Riley but instead a way to get an extra fat tip.

The boys are too drunk to notice him immediately follow, except Price, whole smiles to himself before turning back to the girl prettily sitting on his lap. It takes Ghost a few moments to catch up to you as you walk out of the barracks.

“Ghost leave me alone.” you shout before he can speak.

“Why did you leave?” he calls out after you, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him.

“Because I’m not in the mood to watch you all oogle women in four inch heels and minimal clothing all night.”

He curses below his breath.

“You’ve never ‘ad a problem until now. So what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

You can feel the way he searches your face, mask doing little to conceal the desperation in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder tightens imperceptibly, every inch of his body wired to the way your expression shifts.

“Ghost.”

He chases the centimeter you back away from him, sensing the way you recoil from the honesty he’s asking of you.

“Tell me.”

You sigh.

“That girl wanted to fuck you.”

“She did.”

Your lip curls and you turn once again and stalk to your room, fully intending on slamming the door in his face. Except he doesn’t grant you that pleasure and shoves himself through after you.

“Ghost what the hell do you want from me?” you practically snarl at him.

“I didn’t want to fuck her.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“You do.”

This makes you pause, looking him up and down. Standing in your room, chest heaving from chasing after you and eyes practically blazing. He breaks the silence first, taking a step forward as his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what.” you ask, more confused than before.

“For not being good at this. Not…not good at any of this. I didn’t think it was worth trying to learn. I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” you cry, closing the distance between you two.

“You feel the same.”

He says it as a question, not a statement the way it should be. The way he intends it. He’s not brave enough to say that like he knows what’s right and wrong. Not after he’d spent years in love with you and hadn’t said a damn thing.

“I do.” you let the anger out in your response to hide the tears in your eyes.

Ghost pulls you into his arms. The tears fall. Your body trembles in his grip. He hushes against the hair of your scalp.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Your arms lift to wrap around him, burrowing your face into his chest and breathing him in to calm the shaking that racks your body. When you finally calm, he lifts you gently and places you softly on the bed. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable, but he soon has you curled into him as he strokes long lines down your back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers.

“Me too, Simon.”

I’m finally brave enough to start reading Ghoap fanfics and I am actually scared

i hate people who know highways. “i’m heading south on I-65” okay man. i’m moving my rook to c2

I’m fine, girl……

Cowboy!Simon who rides a big old Belgian Draft horse with a palomino coat. He knows a smaller horse couldn’t handle his weight and all of his hunting gear, so the sweet gelding he found tied up and abandoned to a tree was perfect for him.

Cowboy!Simon who has no interest in a wife or the word of God, only the small cabin he built for himself in the woods and the pitiful garden in his backyard.

Cowboy!Simon who comes home from a several day long hunting trip to find a small thing like yourself cursing silently under your breath as you rip at weeds and meticulously pick mites off leaves. Behind you, a small red Appaloosa eyes him warily as you fail to notice him on his massive horse.

Cowboy!Simon who decides at that very moment that he doesn’t need a wife or the word of God, just you to angrily tend to his garden. He’ll cook you dinner too; he killed a massive buck while he was gone.

Hi! I hope this does not come off strange, but I am a huge supporter of yours and I have read all of your writings. Are there longer fics you are reading right now that you like? Books or audiobooks? I want to expand my reading and I thought I would ask my favorite for recommendations.

Ooh, not strange at all!

Not going to lie I have been heavily slacking in reading lately due to a mix of things, but some fanfics I've been reading/finished lately have been:

meet your match (price x reader) by @syoddeye let loss reveal it (price x reader) also by sy (I need to catch up) cygnet, plucked (price x reader) also by sy this abo universe by @ceilidho (so far soap and kyle are out and kyle's made me go insane actually) THIS by @bi-writes Raspberry Girl by @peachesofteal and through me the flood also by peach This western Ghost fic by @yeyinde and this mafia ghost au also by lev

uuuuuh there's probably more but i just worked a jank ass shift and my mind is shot. also sorry a lot of these aren't super long, and are mostly fanfic, BUT i did just finish reading "Tender is the Flesh" by Agustina Bazterrica and i highly highly recommend it. i bought and read it after an anon on my old account said that As Your Skin Gives reminded them of that work, so if you're able to stomach splatterpunk then it's super good!!

Ravens mate for life.

Simon Riley had not been a raven, not until Roba and his experiments on top of his branwashing, anyways. A dark, vicious cycle until he was something more than just man- until he could bend and break his body into a new form, and unwind himself back into humanity as if he wasn’t long past the point of being just human.

It had been the same for you, another victim. Another soul, another body warped being what will ever be normal.

And within Roba’s darkness, the two of you found a hint of solace in each other.

Ravens, thus, mate for life.

Simon “Ghost” Riley returns to the military, and no one suspects a thing- no one except John, perhaps. John, who looks at Simon and sees that deep, encroaching darkness to him. John, who swears Simon’s eyes were never quite so… beady before even if his stare had always been chilling.

John, who swears he hears the distant cawing of ravens sometimes when there had been no such thing before. On base, and on the battlefield- John hears it all same. On base, sometimes it’s one raven. Sometimes, it’s two, but he can never quite see where they are. On battlefields, it’s always one.

(He has not yet made the connection that Simon always- always- ducks or turns when he hears the raven call during battles.)

Ravens mate for life; that is their nature.

You perch yourself on Simon’s open palm, beak quickly opening to swallow down the food he’s offering. You wish you could shift, but you are far too close to other people in this base- people and cameras. Ao you content yourself with resting on his open palm, tilting your head with a soft caw, and accepting the faint brush of his lips over your head through his mask.

Ravens mate for life; Simon would lay down his for yours, no hesitation. But such actions are unneeded when you are there to cover his back.

Blah blah blah Gaz eats pussy unlike any other man you’ve ever been with. It’s not to get it over with, not to make you orgasm, not to taste you, or even to say he does it.

Gaz gets off on it.

He comes back from deployment and eats your home cooked meal, lets you settle him into the bath and wash the small amount of hair he has. But the second he’s out his one track mind takes over.

Pushing you down on the bed and lapping at you through your panties, depraved and sniffing at you like an animal. He’s got class, we all know this, but when eating you out his control slips.

Rutting against the bed as gets absolutely lost in you, panting and groaning like it’s him receiving the mind-numbing pleasure. He takes his time too. Sometimes he goes for hours, unable to satiate his need for you.

Happy Valentine’s Day you freaks!

Anyway

Simon Riley who is finally back from deployment after 8 months out in God only knows where. Fresh blood still under his nails when he arrived at the shitty flat he called home. It was made incredibly worse when he realized there wasn’t any food in his fridge and his pantry laid bare. The two cans of beans did not count. So he dragged himself to the closest grocery store and picked out necessities, half dazed as people gave him second glances. Finally headed toward the exit and passing by the coffee shop inside the store, he was stopped by a rowdy laugh.

Simon couldn’t remember the last time he heard a laugh like that.

Upon turning he saw you.

It took every bit of his willpower to remember how to even speak when he trudged up to the counter, grocery bags heavy in his hands. He didn’t register the soft greeting you gave him. What he did notice was the way you looked him up and down. Disgust or interest, it didn’t matter. You were his now, and he would do anything to hear that laugh again.

Cw: depression

Soap comes home one day expecting his wife to greet him at the door with his favorite meal and a kiss on the cheek. He hadn’t been gone long, only a few weeks, and you knew when he was coming home.

The house is dark when he opens the door despite it being evening. It smells faintly of unwashed clothing. Shades drawn tightly over the windows, the residing plants wilted and dying. Not dead yet, he notes.

“Honey?”

Johnny hates the way his voice cracks slightly when he calls out to you.

Making his way through the house, he eventually reaches your room. He knows then, from the clothing all over the floor and the pile of books on the bed where you are. He knows from the forgotten glasses of water on the dresser and the empty wrappers of miniature candy where you’ve been. In your head.

He finds you in the bathroom, sleeping in the bathroom tub. You wake when he lifts you, silently leaning into him. Despite his exhaustion and his hunger, he strips you of your clothes and runs the water warm. Kisses upon your shoulders as you remain silent, dark imprints under your eyes showing your own fatigue. It’s only when he has you lathered in bubbles and running his hands through your hair to make sure it gets clean that he dares to ask what happened.

“It got bad again, Johnny.”

His hands don’t pause their work through your hair, simply moving down to massage the muscles in your neck.

“I got you now.”