Tonight is one of those nights.

"Simon, you fucking crossed a line! That is unacceptable!" You had told him two days ago after finding out he's put a tracker on you and has been sharing your location with his work buddies. That was your first big fight since the wedding.

Which leads you to now, fluffy comforter and favorite pillow in hand while you glare at the couch.

You didn't want it to come to this. You had hoped refusing cuddles and referring to him solely as "simon." Instead of your usual pet names would get the point across how serious this is. But ghost refused to budge.

So, you're sleeping on the couch. Because as pissed off as you are at simon and as much as you want to tear his face off, some silly part of you aches at the thought of him hurting his back sleeping on the couch.

So, you go tuck in and try to ignore how weird it feels not to have a warm body next to you.

When you wake up, you nearly trip over your husband sleeping on the floor by the couch.

"What— simon! What the hell—" all anger you'd initially feel is destroyed when you look closer at the wet lines down the scars on his face, the red tint around his eyes.

Oh. You've....You've never actually seen ghost cry.... not since the wedding.

"Please don't leave me love–" are the first choked words out of his mouth, not even awake for a minute and already shifting closer to you "ahm' sorry. I'm sorry, I just— i can't lose you. If— if something happens to me I—"

"Woah. Woah, hey, slow down si" You attempt to soothe, because pulling him up onto the bed. "I'm pissed off. You know that. But I'm not leaving you. What's going on?"

Ghost breathes for a second, looks at the window instead of you. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and raw "if I get captured. If I'm— compromised. The team needs to be able to find you. Keep you safe. I can't always be here."

Oh....oh.

The conversation that followed was long, painstaking, but necessary. You and simon struck a tentatively compromise, both mentally exhausted from it all. You could tell he was struggling not to shut down.

"....come to bed with me? I missed your cuddles last night." You smile, only to gasp and laugh when simon bodily hauled you over his shoulder to drag you to bed.

"You broke a lot of rules, Price."

"No more rules."

---

18+ MDNI

cw: fem!reader, no smut but nudity & suggestive, mentions & discussions of body hair & shaving, that's all i think ?

Sure, ghost hangs around him, everyone knows this. Though, it's less obvious than it would be with simon tailing after johnny on good days. But on bad days, ghost follows like a shadow on gazs heels from room to room.

Gaz has a way of inviting it, maybe that's why you practically glue yourself to him.

You, the lieutenant that joined up with the 141 after a few missions with ghost. Gaz doesn't think he's ever heard you speak more than a few words, never socializing with anyone. Gaz doesn't mind.

When you decide the lunch table is a perfect place to clean your rifle, gaz simply offers to move his drink out of you way. If he finds you standing outside his room at 3am, he asks if you want to go for a jog.

Once, you spent the entire day picking up anything gaz reached for before he could, though he's sure that was just to fuck with him by the glimmer in you eye. Nothing phases him, not even the weird telepathic connection you have with ghost.

Yeah, you and ghost seem to get along perfectly, if gaz ignores the fights you get into seemingly at random. He thinks those are some sort of bonding experience. Nowadays it seems you two flock to him, always lingering around gaz silently. Watching or doing your own thing.

Sometimes, you decide gaz would actually be much better as a pillow and just...fall asleep on him. He really doesn't mind so long as he gets his fag and a drink without interrupting.

if there's a food that isn't on any list then i'm dishing it out. packs of custard, angel delight, cup of soups, anything nearing a use by date is getting tossed into a bag for someone.

Taking you gently by the chin and telling you that you need to let go of what people you don't respect think of you. If you wouldn't take their advice, then don't accept their criticism. And I really hope you wouldn't take the advice of a random person shouting through a paper tube at you from behind a wall (because that is what Anonymous Messages are). This will become easier as you get older.

If you are firm in your convictions, then people being mean to you about them is a reflection of them, not you. Ngl, my inbox regularly has an influx of anonymous messages trying to "well, actually" me out of my opinion, but this is the "well, actually" website where people see their sexuality as a moral grading and they like to play identity politics about making the Politically Correct Characters Get Shagged, rather than fight the class war. Nothing, and I mean nothing, on here should be taken to heart.

The flip side of this is that you might make someone feel seen. The first time I saw someone say something along the lines of "hey, you don't have to conform to a US-centric of what it is to be LGBT and a lot of what they spend their time on comes from a place of privilege", I was liberated. Like, holy shit, I don't have to perform in a way that makes me feel completely and utterly alien. That guy was so important on my healing journey. You could be That Guy for someone else.

Also, well done for deleting the bitching. Cowards deserve precisely zero air time on your timeline.

Pipedreams 😴

Some pre-relationship pining c:

You've just gotten home, uncharacteristically quiet as you pad about the house. Ghost idly listens, wondering if your day was rough, when you call out from the living room "simon? Uh...how do you feel about being a dad?"

A loud bang from upstairs, followed by a crash and thumping feet as ghost no doubt runs into a wall in his dash to get down the stairs.

"Love, what the fuck–" he's in the middle of yelling, face one of pure horror.

Instead of a pregnancy test in your hands, you hold a tiny kitten, drenched in mud and shivering in your arms. You look at simon, your dear husband in everything but law, and beg "please, si? It doesn't have a family! We could raise it!"

Ghost, who momentarily cycled through every stage of panic known to man, clutches a hand over his chest and leans against the wall as though he ran a marathon. Finally, weakly, he forced out "...yeah. yeah, dove, we can do that. Just...lead with the cat next time."

"Thank you!!" You crowd him into a hug, little kitten meowing between you so you can pepper ghosts face with kisses.

You end up naming the wee thing Casper, and ghost pointedly tries not to mention the weird hopeful feeling he had for a moment when he first heard the word 'dad'.