The team has been trying to help Simon get better at flirting.
It started off with Johnny noticing how Simon’s gaze often lingered on you, the newest truck loader.
Then he blabbered it off to the entire team. So yeah— Simon may have banged his head against the wall in his quarters and slept that night thinking about choking Johnny.
But here he was, after a long day of being convinced to talk to you.
You had just finished unloading the last truck of the day and what better time to talk to you than now?
“You gotta be confident and bold with your words, L.T.” Kyle’s words.
“No, you have t’ be funny. Make ‘em laugh.” Johnny’s words.
“If all things fail, just ask ‘em for coffee.” John’s words.
Simon took in a deep breath and smiled (the best he could. He doesn’t smile often). You didn’t even catch it either; he was wearing his damn balaclava. “You just started working, yeah?” he asks, stuffing his hands into his vest. Confident, check.
You took off your gloves and patted your sweaty forehead with your arm, “mhm! About two-ish months ago,” you tell the older man, giving him a polite smile.
A quiet hum fell from Simon’s lips as he rocks on his heels a bit, “Once saw y’ trippin’ over a box,” Simon says bluntly. Funny, check.
You stared at him, blinking twice and half expecting him to finish his sentence.
He didn’t.
Instead, the two of you had a staring contest while Simon’s face burned behind the balaclava.
“You can trip on me,” Simon suddenly adds. Funny and bold… check?
Your brows knitted a bit, “what…?” you ask with an awkward laugh.
Fuck.
This wasn’t going how he imagined it to go. He imagined him coolly leaning against a wall or something while complimenting you.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Do you have coffee?” Simon changes the topic, his entire face blowing up with steam.
Off to the side, John stared at his teammate with a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple. “Bloody idiot asked for coffee,” he mumbles.
Kyle shrugs a bit, “T’ be fair, you did say to ask for coffee,” he says, defending his lieutenant.
“Implying to ask for a coffee date,” John replies bluntly. “Fuckin’ disaster of a man.”
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Thinking about ghost's baby who always wants a bite of other peoples food.
Without fail, whenever anyone decides to eat around baby regardless of what the food actually is, tiny hands are waving in the air asking for some. Without fail, ghost has to gently try and redirect baby in a way that won't induce tears because
Because baby cries over clouds going away and random rocks...this always leads to fat tears and ghost glaring at the perpetrators.
He's about ready to bite you when you, in the middle of chatting with him in the porch, pull out your lunchbox. Sure, you always eat lunch with him on the porch, but baby's had a rough day and you know how baby gets.
Various fruits, some granola, a sandwich. Nothing special, but baby uncurls from his chest to blink curiously at the meal.
"...ahhh. ahb. Ahhh." Baby huffs, tiny fingers spread out and making grabby-hands, nearly toppling out of ghosts arms when he leans further.
"Aw, want a bite?" You ask baby, already pulling out a second container from you lunch, "here, have some. Yeah?"
Baby squeals in delight when you give him a slice of banana, round cheeks red and eyes squinted at his victory.
You...you packed food, just in case baby wanted some.
From there it's like a game. Making a big show of grabbing something "random" from your plate for baby to eat. Every single time baby loves it.
No once does baby cry when you eat around him, always armed with a smaller baby-safe version.
...yet the guys wonder why you're the only one with babysitting privileges.
cw: 18+ mdni, heavy fauxcest, heavy intoxication, use of daddy/dad
Brat!Reader who accidentally called Simon, you have no recollection of if even happening but all he hears is yelling, the laugher, the woozy slur of your muffled voices and then it hangs up.
It’s a Saturday night, nothing surprising, all girls wanna have fun, no? But it’s when he check a that location, the way you’re location is moving down the highway fast- too fast for your own good. Simon lets John knows, maybe he can get a connection to you. Which leads to you declining both of their calls while you’re still in someone’s car speeding down the streets and highways without a car. Drunk texts in reply, ‘in busty rnnn, fuck off’ and ‘witgh friedns k?, call later.’
You turned your phone off after that, just as they were gonna go search every inch of the damned city for you, theres a loud booming from a car radio as they inch closer toward the Price and Riley residence. The person driving hops out the car first, jogging to the other side to open the passenger door where you’re half sprawled out. He says something they can’t hear over the music that’s got you sitting up and giggling. Taking his hand to help you out the expensive McLaren, curls in a side part and stabbing down your back, the tight and short yellow party dress hugging every part of you so perfectly it’d make anyone’s head turn. You stumble onto the side walk, babbling to the guy and nodding to the words that has you fucking grinning.
You point towards the house but the guy only takes a glance at the two men guarding the property, making it known he’s not wanted— not by them, definitely not by you, that whatever was happening was a one time thing. And shakes his head, watching the way your hips switch unconsciously as you approach the two older men men.
You squint your eyes at the two figures, laughing, you push at Simons broad shoulder, “Duuuude, what are you guys doin at my folks houssee!?”
Is that where you think this is? Maybe you just have be them the first address that popped up in your phone. It’s better this way though, deciding it’d be better to leave the issues of tonight for tomorrow. Let them take care of you.
John sighs, taking your hand so you can slip off the pumps on your feet, “Gotta get you t’bed love-“
You gasp, gripping Johns shirt, “You- hck- you know whooo was blowin my shit up tonight? I-I thought I’d go crazyyy for second.” You gasp again, pointing at Simon who’s right behind you, smiling up at him, “You both were, I said, fuck two guys blowin up my phone when I’m supposed- ‘posed t’ be havin- hck- ‘posed t’ be young ‘nd turnt.” You let out a frustrated huff, stomping your foot.
“You were doin somethin dangerous swee’art, bein in a car that drunk, flyin down the bloody highway,” and high, you’ve got the smell of weed on you, John and Simon shared another look you were completely oblivious too. Watching the way your hands rubbing up and down your thighs, eyes low and red.
You shrug, “No, ‘s fine. Me ‘nd that guy-“
“You and him?” John tighter are sharper than intended, a tone that’s got your eyes wide and meeting his but you’re waving it off, “He always knows how to get me t’ relaaax. Youuuu- You’re overthinkin it.” You slur.
Your hands go up your dress, to your back, trying to reach the zipper, “Bof- both you probably spent alllll night overthinkin while I had a fuckin blast! Hmck- help.” Your pretty eyes look towards Simon, a pout on your lips. He doesn’t have to be told twice, unzipping the dress and letting it strung to the floor.
Leaving you in matching black thong and lace bra, both men looking elsewhere to hold in some restraint.
Your eyes are basically closed but you’re walking forward absentmindedly, throwing your arms up, “So overprotective. Don’t get it at allll!”
A cool and calloused hand reaches the small of your back, turning you toward the both of them, John rubs your back, “To bed honey.”
You shake your head, “Don’t need bed,”
“Honey-“
“-I wanna listen t’ more music! It’s only like 3!”
4 am actually. But you’re pushing yourself further than needed. A routine while this faded you must be overly to.
Not anymore.
Simon brushes your hair back, back of his finger caressing your face, “Daddies know what’s best for you baby, listen well ‘nd John’ll make you breakfast in the mornin.”
You soften at that, a small smile on your lips, “That’d be reallllly nice.”
“Right? Only ‘f you go to bed though luv,” and John scoops you up in his arms princess style, your arms wrapping around his neck subconsciously. Loving the way he feels against you, how warm he is, hairy arms prickling your skin. And then you feel his soft kiss against your neck, “Gonna sleep right between me and Dad baby. First time for you.”
“My dad,” you repeat, eyes slowly blinking, watching Simon who’s following John carrying you to the bedroom. “And Price too?”
Simon nods, giving your free hand that was dangling a little squeeze, “Daddy’ll be right there too baby.”
Daddy and Dad, Dad and Daddy, how interesting, how peculiar, had your mind swirling every more, how it gave your stomach a warm, tingly feeling.
“How nice.” You hum, eyes fully closing, nodding off before you even get to the bed.
It’s all a blur, getting you to drink water, cleaning you up enough to get you some proper sleep without getting your makeup on the sheets.
But you sleep really well that night, tucked in between two men, wrapped in their arms.
a/n: congratulations! You’ve made it to the end. I was gonna put inspo pics but no one is reading this anyway! I’m building plot here guys. Like I need reader to have reason to call them that, I thinks
when remus is shit faced drunk he goes up to all his friends and boops their nose with a really high pitched voice and the biggest cheesiest smile and then cries because sirius is too pretty
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so apparently some people feel like it’s annoying when someone engages with a lot of stuff from the same person, like going through their ship tag and liking all the content there.
hearing about this, i was immediately paranoid about reblogging literally anything from anyone i don’t talk to on a regular basis.
so to save others from the same paranoia, i’m gonna say that if you like every single post on my goddamn blog it is okay. i might be kind of concerned about your level of time management, going through 23,000 posts, but it wouldn’t bother me.
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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, drgging 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.
You giggled, cheeks flushed, eyes dizzy, and trying to stay up while grabbing a bottle of expensive wine, leaking against Simon's chest.
"y'know, uhm, you're cute as hell, let's get married"
You slurred, Simon chuckled, putting a gentle hand on your waist and keeping you close to him in the middle of the lively bar.
"We're married sweetheart"
The way your eyes widened when he showed you the stunning wedding ring that was on your wedding finger, plus the one he shared with you was seared into his brain.
And the high pitched, loud as hell overjoyed squeal you let out after that.
He swore his ears still buzzed.
The squeal you let out was the reason why you two were banned from that bar and it was a story 5 years later your little blonde daughter and with his eyes and your smile would always giggle about when Simon told her on the nights he called "Bed stories with dada".
With you leaning on the door, scoffing playfully, crossing your arms and saying you didn't remember that night clearly.
Maybe you didn't.
But Simon did, how would he forget the night he knew he wanted to stay the rest of his life next to you?
Disclaimer: This could be a series if you guys want it to be. Read it and let me know if you would potentially like a part two. There are signs of kidnapping and blood in this so if you don't like that, Scroll!! enjoyyyyyyyyyyyy!
You went missing.
It'd been days.
Laswell hadn't heard from you, not even Price.
It was seamless.
"Well, she was always depressed but I doubt she'd just go and kill herself, its not like her to do." Kate's words sounded in the quiet meeting room. Soap brought you up first, he knew, just like everyone else that the only answer was that you had been kidnapped.
You were the second CIA the Task force had, alongside Laswell. You were younger. Smarter but, easier to crack for intel. You had details like Laswell, juicy ones that were kept between the force.
The pregnant silence was broken by Captain Price speaking up, "You think she'd out us? She's new after all." He was right. You'd only been there for about 8 months. The team was still trusting you, you'd proved yourself more than once, but they could never be too sure. Especially Ghost. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, she'd be quiet if she knew what was best for her." Gaz spoke up after a beat.
Laswell typed away on her computer, trying her best to connect to your phone to get through to you. Your last location, last phone call, something. Until she got a lead.
12:03 am, you sent out an SOS. June 22nd.
Your last phone call was a failed attempt to your mom.
"Some definitely happened to her. She sent SOS and tried to make a phone call.. then nothing."
Her words made the boys sit up, Soap could barely settle. Price huffed, loosely flicking his unlit cigar. Gaz looked at Laswell like she held the answers to how the first human came about. She only earned a thoughtful hum from Ghost.
"The cameras at her house were disconnected, looks purposeful." She spoke once more, glancing up to read their grim expressions before her eyes settled back down onto the computer screen.
"We probably need to take a trip to her house then, scope the place out. See if anything was left behind." Ghost rumbled, the first thing he'd said in probably an hour. Price nodded at his suggestion, Soap and Gaz were immediately on board.
The next day, early in the morning they all loaded into one of the big SUV's, Price driving, Laswell in the passenger. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz squished up in the back, shoulder to shoulder. The tension in the car was loud, thick enough to cut with a knife. Price drove, fingers anxiously drumming against the stirring wheel despite his composed expression. Laswell led him down to your neighborhood, it was quiet, some mostly still sleep. They pulled into your driveway, your car still there. They noticed it right away.
"Blood on the car door.." Soap hummed, crouching slightly to inspect the blood, "looks like someone tried to get to the car. She was being hurt, most likely.." he finished, following everyone to the front door.
The door looked like it had been kicked in, broken in at the doorknob.
Ghost pushed the door open with a gloved hand.
Choas.
Your house had been trashed, blood on the walls, broken vases, family pictures were shattered. A knife was wedged into the kitchen wall.
"Bloody hell, they tried to kill the poor lass." Soap drawled while Price inspected the knife in the wall.
"Or she managed to fight back-" Gaz commented, his thought cut short by the sound of Price speaking up.
"Think I know who took 'er." He drawled, speaking up again.
Disclaimer: Just like I said before, tw kidnapping and blood. Maybe even a little teaser of forced proximity.
Your POV:
It was late at night, something in your chest wouldn't settle no matter how many teas you had.
You felt watched.
You couldn't shake the feeling.
Pulling into your driveway, you parked your Jeep. Locked the doors, closed the door, and finally walked up to your front door; slid off your trenchcoat and putting it on the hanger.
After a moment you finally felt like you were about to relax.
You couldn't have been more wrong.
You hadn't even heard the car pull in; a loud crack of your door showed you what you had been so uptight about. Without question you grabbed your phone and ran off deeper into your phone.
Three men. All slinking over 6'0. Dressed in all black from head to toe.
The tallest one caught on to your figure quickly.
"Get her." He spoke in the deepest, almost Russian accent. It made your heart beat, adrenaline just starting to kick in. You quickly sent off an SOS from your phone. You fumbled with your phone as you heard two pairs of feet pattering behind you. You dialed your mom before an arm slicked around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest.
"Not so fast." He spoke, grabbing your phone and handing it to the other man behind him, who hung up the phone.
He lifted you with one arm, so you flailed. You kicked, bit, hit, anything you could desperately.
Your elbow caught him in his covered nose, causing him to hit you back due to a reflex, blood gushed from your face quickly. Your left hand tried to instantly cradle your face. You got slippery. You threw vases your blood was left all over your walls, they hit and dragged you around.
"Why won't you sit nice and pretty for us," one said, pulling you back towards him by your hair with the other tying a rope around your mouth so you couldn't speak.
The bigger man started to walk towards you once they got you down and under their control. "We didn't know the Task Force had someone so pretty.. A shame you're wasting your time on them." He took out a syringe and you writhed, squirming before everything went black.
One hoisted you up over his shoulder, "She's a fighter." He growled, "got me in my mouth." He huffed.
"Should've been watching instead of trying to flirt." The second laughed. He moved to grab your trenchcoat, "She'll probably need this."
The tallest went over to the kitchen, "Leave 'em a lil note, know they're going to come looking for their girl." He took out a Knife that had his boss's name craved deep into it, he forced it deeper into the wall before looking over your figure.
They hoisted you out the house and into the car before speeding off.
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Regulus hates when people yell because he panics and breaks down and Sirius hates when people are silent because then he doesn't know if he's about to get hurt.
That's why their fights are always so catastrophic.
