Please, just tonight?

Line cook!Simon who's been sweet on you lately, always making sure to get your tables tickets out as fast as possible, and managing to sneak you a snack during your shifts.

He always brushes it off, shrugging about it when you ask, 'was tryin' somethin' new ou', luv, tell me f'its good, yeah?', knowing he would never let you eat anything less than delicious. Regardless, hes always eagerly watching for your approval, wanting to see that stupid smile on your face as you gush about his work.

Waitress!Reader whos saved plenty of money on meals, because even with your employee discount, appetisers and sides cost a fair bit of money when it adds up over the week. Not that it mattered anymore, Simon was always using his cooks discount to get you main meals, 'no' gonna le' 'is luvie, go hungry, will 'e?'

Head chef!Price who cocks a brow every time SImon does it, but never pries. Game is game, after all.

Simon who always makes sure to give you a lift home, even when you finish earlier than him, using his break to do so. He also manages to learn that your crappy studio flat is in the bad part of town...

Line cook!Simon who is quick to suggest you moving in with him. He lives close to your uni, you'd save money on rent, and be able to travel to work together most days.

You're quick to agree, it sounding like a dream to not worry about rent or transport and to live with your friend who's been so sweet to you!

Now he just has to figure out how to ask you out and address your lack of self preservation, because really luv, youd only known him a few months...

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Youve been having the absolute worst day, from losing the assignment that you were supposed to hand in today and getting reamed out by your professor, to having dropped a tray of waters at the start of your shift, a preemptive sign that the rest of your night would be tough.

You're just trying to make it through your shift, when you get a table of crude, middle aged men, who make you feel anything but pleasant.

You do your best to cater to their needs and try be as polite and neutral as possible, despite wanting to give them to another waiter, but as usual, the restaurant is overwhelmed and understaffed.

Line cook!Simon who's been watching the pretty little new hire get progressively stressed as your shift goes on. His heart aches for you a bit. A pretty little thing, doing her best to make ends meet, whilst dealing with idiot customers.

Simon who feels his jaw tighten whem you come back into the kitchen, teary eyed, explaining to another server how one of the men at your table tried to hit on you and grabbed the back of your thigh.

Simon who tells you to sit in the walk-in for a bit, whilst he goes to deal with your table, he was needing some fresh air anyway.

Simon who soon comes into the walk-in pantry with a little plate of chips and hands it to you with his now-bruised hands. He pats your head softly, before gruffly saying 'take a break, yeah luv? Go' someone on yer tables'

...Line Cook!Simon who refuses to address his soft spot for you, telling the whole kitchen to shut up when teasing him about it. They can see the faint pink on the tips of his ears though.

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Part 2, if youre interested!

Blunt!Simon, who has never once been good at keeping his mouth shut. He says this exactly as he sees them. Simon, who has the exact same mindset when he sees you enter the bases gym, clad in leggings and a standard issue sports bra.

'Can see yer nipples cuttin' through yer top, luv' he said gruffly, when you came over to say hi. You stopped dead in your tracks, blood rushing to your face, who even says that?!

You knew about his lack of filter, and youd always had a slight crush on him... but even then, you could feel your cheeks heating up

You try your best to get on with your workout, opting to do some cardio to warm up...

After a few hours, you head over to the water fountain to hydrate, where Simon had been standing, filling up his bottle. 'Been enjoyin' the outline 'f yer cunt, luvie' he says, looking down at you as you cough on your water in shock.

He bends down to get close to you 'dyin' for a taste... give yer LT a han', aye?'

Your Lieutenant who also refused to eat anything in the mess, or touch his mre's whilst on ops. Maybe he wasn't a fan of lifting his mask and eating in front of others? Regardless, you didnt press, all it meant was more apple crumble for you

Your Lieutenant who is always covered up on every single op, even on base, even during a heatwave! You understood not wanting to show skin but wasn't this too much? You were worried about him overheating, but he seemed fine.

Your Lieutenant who seems to be up all hours of the night, always in his office, always available for a debrief or a meeting, and never tired after an op, and seemed like he had endless stamina to train.

You, who finds him to be admirable, so dedicated to the cause and motivated all the time.

One night, you decided to head to his office to ask him to give you tips! Hes your Lieutenant afterall.

You, who walks in on Ghost, in his office, stripped down to briefs, on the floor, mask off, fangs out as he bit into and sucked on a pre prepared blood bag, panting and heaving as he made a mess.

"S-sergeant-" Ghost growled out, his eyes glowing a faint shade of red as he spotted you. God, you looked delicious...

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You, who cant STAND the horrible heatwave engulfing the UK right now, with the heat only being a million times worse on base.

Youve finally made the decision to switch to summer uniform, opting for a tank top when able to do so, and thinner cargos. And occasionally having your hair tied higher up, rather than the standard low bun, on more casual days on base.

Weirdly enough though, your Lieutenant seems to be more evasive these days. He already was, to a degree, but he was now moreso than ever. You chalked it up to the extra layers and mask he wore, making the heat all the more unbearable for him.

Ghost who refuses to spar with you nowadays. You thought you had finally proved yourself to him, saving his ass on the last op, but apparently not!

You, who, rightfully, gets annoyed, confiding in the other sergeants to which they placate you as best they can, but it only riles you up even more!

Ghost who is entirely unused to seeing so much of you, having seen you as nothing but a capable soldier before this... only to learn that you were doing things to him. Things you had no right doing.

Ghost who cant stand the sight of the exposed nape of your neck, the very sight of it setting off something inside him, dragging his thoughts to nothing but being able to bite and ravish your soft skin. Night after night he thinks about you, you and your stupid neck that make him think impossibly dirty thoughts.

Gaz and Soap who know how much Ghost is going through it right now, and at the same time, pissing you off. They both share a wall with the Lieutenant after all, and know all about the effects you've had on him.

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You've noticed that Ghost has been staring at you more often than not lately.

Not like it was a massive deal, he was your superior officer, and you were relatively new, maybe you hadn't truly earned your stripes with him yet. The others had told you he was closed off, but he'd warm up to you!

But then, you found yourself to becoming increasingly self-conscious. He would stare at you. Not like, in your direction, but right at you, sometimes just burning his gaze into you.

Did he think your hair was done weird? Or maybe your uniform was out of place? Or maybe you had something on your face??

You began to notice that during training, he was harsher with you, telling you what you were doing wrong, correcting your form, all things a Lieutenant should do of course, except there wasn't anything wrong with your form.

Not to worry though, you were soon deployed on a solo mission the day after, giving you ample time to take your mind off things.

Only to come back, and for him to completely ignore you. I mean, it was marginally better than the constant staring but it made things so incredibly difficult.

He wouldn't even look your way during briefings! You were starting to get sick and tired. If he didnt like you, he could request to have you kicked off the team, not ignore you like some annoying little boy in primary school!

Eventually, you decided to go straight to his office, after dinner, knowing he had no meetings and only had paperwork to entertain himself.

You marched in, shutting the door behind you, making sure he had nowhere to go, and quickly tore into and berated him, something that would undoubtedly have you reprimanded but enough was enough!

"...y'done, Sergeant?" He gritted. Your chest deflated slightly at his annoyance but you nodded nonetheless.

Ghost stood up, immediately intimidating you with his build before barking at you "Jus' can't take a hint, can ye? Fucking rookie..." he muttered. "Over 'ere. Now." he said, his dead-eyed gaze on you.

It was only then that you noticed the hard on straining through his trousers.

...maybe he didnt hate you as much as you had initially thought.

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You were sat in the common room, flicking through a magazine, sipping on a coffee, whilst Ghost, on your right was reading a book in his armchair, tea in his offhand, his mask tugged up just enough above his lips to allow him to drink comfortably.

After getting bored of your magazine, your eyes began to wander over his form, watching him silently as he worked on his tea.

After about a minute or so of Ghost-watching, you quickly noticed a small glint of... something, catching the light whenever he opened his mouth. After watching him take a few more sips, it finally clicked.

"Oh my god, you have a tongue piercing, Lt?!" You exclaimed, smiling in pure disbelief.

"...yeah? Wot about it?" Simon said, eventually looking up from his book, his dead, brown eyes looking straight at you.

"How come you never said anything? I didnt know you had any piercings!" You said, still amazed. He didnt strike you as the kind to have piercings, having thought he was interested solely in ink.

"Ya never asked" he shrugged, finished off his tea, leaning forward and opening his mouth to show you. You stared in awe. "Like it?" He asked with a slight tug of his lips, finding your reaction somewhat amusing.

"I mean yeah, its so cool!" you said, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth.

"Too predictable fer yer own good, Sergeant" Ghost sighed with a tut. You were confused but he quickly elaborated. "Birds love tongue piercings. Feels heavenly when I eat cunt" he said nonchalantly with a barely-there smirk.

"Th-thats not why I love it!" You responded, your cheeks burning at the mental image of your Lieutenant between your legs.

"Yeah? But it could be. Wanna find out?" Simon smirked, leaning back and crossing his burly arms over his chest.

Simon Riley who finds himself going out of his way to make sure he gets to at least have a glance of you, once a day, waiting around after handing in paperwork, knowing you'll walk by, heading on your lunch break.

Simon Riley who stares sharply out of his office at 6pm, watching as you get to your car in the car park and drive off.

Simon Riley who convinces himself that it's a protective thing. Like seeing something to weak that it can't fend for itself, and keeping an eye on it, whenever possible.

Simon Riley who ends up mentioning it to the therapist when coming back from an open and having to get cleared by medical. Explaining that the entire time he was on that mission, he thought of you, and your stupid face, and your stupid personality and your even stupider smile.

Simon Riley who only receives a shocked look from the therapist, which pisses him off, causing him to leave. But the therapist can't be blamed, I mean, come on, the Ghost? Having feelings for someone? Completely unheard of. Not that he had managed to even tell Ghost.

Simon Riley who keeps to himself over the next week or so (more so than usual), only to go out with his team to the pub at the end of the week and has to watch Soap painfully chat up some poor lass, trying to get her attention.

Simon Riley who has to hold back a scoff as he watches Soap vy for the lass, wanting her to at least glance in his direction so he could amp up the charm.

Simon Riley who damn near cracks his glass from sheer strength when he realises what's been happening to him

You had finally decide to get your janky car fixed for the sixth or seventh time this year, deciding to take it to a new mechanic, not wanting to face any more embarrassment of having to go to the same place, for the same rust piece of crap every month.

You park your car outside, in the crowded lot, walking into the somewhat grimy garage, looking for any member of staff, only to find a man, hunched over an open engine, cranking at something. 'Excuse me!' You called out, attempting to get his attention, despite the loud whirring noises.

To your dismay, he didn't hear you, so you got closer, 'Excuse me!' You repeated, louder this time, only for the background noises to stop mid-yell.

'Trynna make me go deaf?!' The man responded gruffly, turning around with a groan, pausing, seeing you. He gave you a quick once over.

'...what ya lookin' for, love?' He asked, his irritated tone having faded slightly. You explained your problems, pointing out your car in the lot. 'Not sure even if the big man himself could save that piece of scrap, love.' Simon, you learned after reading the tag on his suit, said after sparing it a brief glance.

He was handsome. In a rugged sort of way. Short blonde hair, a slightly crooked nose that looked as if it has never set right after being broken one too many times, defined muscles, covered in grease and grime, all barely held together but the exposed (barely) white wife-beater beneath his black, lazily-buttoned coveralls.

'Tell you what, s'hot out, come inside, cool down, and I'll have ye sorted, yeah? Could maybe tell me why yer boyfriend didn't fix i' fer ya.' Simon said, standing up, a somewhat dirty hand on your lower back.

You promptly informed him that your boyfriend couldn't have fixed it for you, considering you don't have a boyfriend!

'You don't say... looks like yer cars no' the only thing tha' needs fixin'...'

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Part 2 of this post!

Butcher!Simon who patiently waits for you to come back into his dull life shop and lighten up the dreary place. Can't force a bird into a cage after all, much easier when they fly in themselves.

He made sure to clean off his array of knives, in case you want to take a look, even deciding to give that relic of a display case a much needed wipe-down, hoping it would make it all the easier to see your little face, admiring all his prime meats.

Simon who even took drastic measures, taking out the bad cuts of meat, reserved for shitty customers, in case you accidentally chose a bad piece again. Couldn't disappoint his bird now, could he?

He enduringly stands, half-heartedly serving other customers and regulars, eyes trained on the door, craving you, needing you to make even a slight appearance.

Simon who's getting ready to close up shop, cleaning off his saw, wiping down bloody counters, freezing spare meat since it's 8:25, only to pause, hearing the ding of the door bell.

You, who smiles brightly and unabashedly at him, raving about how good the ribs were, how his cooking instructions were perfect and how you were surprised that it came out so delicious!

Simon who chubs up in his jeans, listening to you blabber on so prettily about how good his meat was, making no attempt to hide his growing arousal.

You who explains that you get off work at 8, and that Simons Butcher shop was at least a 20 minute walk and apologise for being late, since it was already nearing 8:30, closing time, according to his door.

'No such thing, swee'art, signs wrong, close up at 9 anyway, been tha' way fer years' Simon gruffs out nonchalantly, now mentally writing down a note to contact a nearby media shop to get new shop signs to update his open times, all for the sake of his pretty little birdie.

He'd have to let his customers know that he was changing his hours, but it didn't matter, so long as his chatty little thing was content.

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley who's pissed that he can't get your stupid little face out of his head, day or night, awake or asleep.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who has made a valiant effort in trying to avoid and ignore you completely, but you were everywhere he went. You must have been following him, he decided. You were literally 141's secretary, what did he expect?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who watches while Kyle and Johnny treat you sweetly, thank you for helping out with their paperwork, even squeezing your hips or carrying your stuff for you, like you were some pathetic, weak, useless thing. You were in his eyes, but that didn't warrant special treatment, if anything, you should've worked harder.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who decides he's finally had enough when he watched Captain Price ruffle your hair, calling you a good girl for being so on top of things. That was his Captain. And being on top of things was your job, why were you being praised??Though Simon couldn't really decide whether he was jealous seeing you with his Captain, or whether he thought it was because you didn't deserve to even see the light of day. He would admit neither.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who finally corners you one day after a team meeting, waiting for the others to leave the room before slamming a hand on your desk, leaning over you menacingly. 'Stay in yer lane, rookie.' he barked out, getting annoyed at the fact that he found your confused face cute.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who had to reign himself in when you look up at him, touch his arm and gently ask 'Is... everything okay, sir?' God, were you trying to piss him off??

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who quickly leaves the room, feeling his ears heat up under his balaclava, muttering something about insubordination and a last chance to cooperate.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who wishes you'd held onto him a little longer, and hates himself for it.

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Simon was a sweet man. But he was king, and so alone time was scarce, to say the least. This lead to... tasteful rendezvous.

More often than not, Simon would find himself being frustrated with his work, not because it was difficult, because in his words, 's'piss easy, luv' but rather because he was becoming increasingly frustrated at the lack of cunt he was getting these last few weeks.

He had decided he'd had enough. What good was it being king if he was unable to catch even a hint of his wife's delectable pussy?

King Simon got up, leaving his paperwork haphazardously unfinished, making it a problem for his aide to deal with, Sir MacTavish was not getting any sleep that night, and decided to go see you, in your chambers, hoping to catch a glimpse of your soft and creamy body.

Simon barged into your room, sending a strike of fear into your ladies-in-waiting, before speaking lowly. 'Where's m'wife.' The ladies-in-waiting were shaking in their corsets, pointing to the bathing chambers attached to your room as they bowed, 't-taking her evening bath, my lord!' One stuttered.

King Simon paid their nervous forms no regard as he walked by, opening the bathing chambers with a gentle, out-of-the-ordinary demeanour.

He stepped inside, in all his, buff, 6'4 glory, and immediately spotted your small form in the bath tub, covered in bubbles, as well as rose petals. He stripped himself of his clothing as he walked over, walking up to your side before leaning down and kissing your temple before gruffly letting out a harsh 'missed you,' drawing a soft giggle from you, inviting him in with open arms.

After a bit of rearranging, and perhaps a loving grope or two, Simon was behind you in the bath, his thick, scarred, hairy arms, wrapped affectionately around your waist as he kissed and nipped at your neck.

'Your majesty!', you smiled softly, slightly ticklish. 'Simon. Ain't no one but us in 'ere, birdie' he corrected, his hands dragging up your body, cupping your pillowy, supple breasts.

He pinched at your nipples, drawing soft gasps and squirms from you, causing an involuntary arch of your back, while your head pushed back into his shoulder, giving him ample room to suck and kiss at your neck.

'S-simon! It's too much!' You whimpered gently and squirmed, the water rippling around your twisted forms and drawing a deep chuckle from him. 'Missed ya too much. Let me have at yer body, yeah? can do tha' fer yer husband, no?' He said he gave breasts a slightly harsher squeeze, ellicting a groan from him.

Butcher!Simon stands imposingly at the whirring band saw, cutting up some poor animal he had the pleasure of slaughtering earlier, making sure to keep a good portion of fat on the chucks of meat, and keeping an eye out to make a few leaner slabs too.

His everyday was monotonous. Wake up, drink a cuppa, open up the shop, sell meat, close up the shop, have a shower sometimes, a quick wank, and before letting his head hit the pillow again at night, ready to do it all again the next day.

But he never complained, no, in fact, he liked the repetition. Found comfort in the practiced moves. Even enjoyed living the same day over and over again, as if it wouldn't drive a normal person crazy.

That was, until you decided to walk into his shop. He swore that he could see the faint halo of pure light around your head. Was it already time for him to meet the big man? Surely he'd be meeting someone with two horns and a tail, no?

You, who walked in with a smile, peering into his glass, somewhat dirty, display case as if searching for a sweet treat. Something sugary to rot your delicate little teeth on. He felt his heart squeeze as you look up at him, pointing to some no-good cut of meat with little fat, that he reserved for bastards that had enough stupidity to tick him off after a long shift.

That wouldn't do.

Simon tutted and sighed 'dunno know yer meats from the shit cuts?'

Simon sliced you up a prime rack of lamb ribs, making sure to wrap it well in the tinted butcher paper, all whilst discreetly eyeing you up, his eyes travelling over the smooth expanse of the little visible skin you had on show. Handed you the package and had you pay a fraction of the true price of the meat.

Sent you on your way with a rosemary and garlic rub, as well as a meat thermometer, telling you exactly how to cook up the ribs, wanting, no, needing you to enjoy the ribs you had bought from him. From his shop.

He watched as you turned to him as you left, smiling brightly as you bid him farewell, promising to stop by soon and tell him how the lamb ribs turned out!

Until next time, little lamb, he thought to himself, cleaning off his meat cleaver.

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley who can't believe the nerve of a secretary, weren't you just a glorified typewriter? No need for someone to handle paperwork, didn't he already do enough?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who rolled his eyes when you struggled to reach your cup in the cupboard. Shouldn't have been there anyways, you're not really one of them.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who never even attempts at hiding his disdain for you, this was a military base for soldiers. Not some social area for women to distract recruits.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who couldn't help but sneer under his mask whenever you sat with the team for lunch, immediately getting up and leaving the mess hall, not even wanting to be seen with you.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who foregoes cleaning his equipment, feeling too fatigued from an op, mentally agreeing to come back and do it the next day.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who comes to the armory the next day to find his equipment cleaned out and organised, looking newer than the day it was handed to him.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who immediately knows who's touched his stuff, and prepares to tear you a new one for touching what was his, before hearing Gaz and Soap talking about you, who cleaned everyone's equipment yesterday, noticing that they were all tired.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who feels a burning pit in his stomach, annoyed that you cleaned and helped everyone, not just him

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A/n: first post! More to come for sure 😈