Soap💔💔💔

If this isn't their dynamic then I don't know what is @jgvfhl @cod-dump

Ah yes, swearing Ghost (♥ω♥*). And also let's not forget the times he got hurt/injured during the campaign, luckily not too severe. They better keep it that way..

Going off my headcanon that Ghost doesn't keep up with celebrities or musicians because he just doesn't care. Imagine if he was dating someone famous. Maybe not super famous because I imagine that would be difficult, but maybe famous in the right circles (thinking like Spiritbox or even Mother Mother type famous.)

Like he genuinely has no idea that you're famous. He's never heard of you or your band before. When you first meet and you say something about it, he stares at you before asking if he's supposed to know what that means, voice monotone.

When he talks about you to the others, he never uses your name. You're always just his bird, his love, maybe the missus (regardless of gender). He talks about how hectic both of your schedules are, and they just assume that maybe you work on a different base or you're in the medical field or something. It's always vague enough to keep them all wondering, and he refuses to elaborate.

Now imagine Soap's surprise when everything finally lines up and the team gets to meet Ghost's birdie, and none other than the leader singer of his favorite band saunters in.

(but also imagine if you were super famous. Like how the hell does this behemoth not know who you are? but you're also so relieved because at least you know he likes you for you.)

Me posting on tumblr:

John price is hot

I think Simon would do anything you said if you phrased it as a command rather than a question.

“Can we go see the girly pop movie?” “No”

“We are going to see the girly pop movie.” He’s waiting by the door

“Will you wear a maid outfit for me?” “Fuck no”

“Go put the maid outfit on.” “Alright”

Simon never heard his father say sorry, or please, or thank-you, or I love you.

In their house, when his mama would put down hot, heavy casseroles, her skin damp with sweat, eyes darting for some sweet words, his father never said one word of thanks, let alone 'some'. Only waved his thick, impatient hand.

His father never took the plates to the sink. Never noticed when she stayed up at night to sort the screws by size and purpose—organizing the chaos he left behind just to find one damn hammer.

His father never said ‘please can you—’ only grunted with that bitter mouth, glared with those unkind eyes when he needed something.

Simon never heard him say I love you. And he couldn’t believe his eyes the day his father plucked out his baby brother from his mama's arm, and didn’t spare one glance for his Ma. She didn't deserved that, did she? Her weak frail body, cracked murmuring lips — she should be celebrated with adoration, comfort, love.

Love, and an infinite of it.

His father never sat beside her just to drink tea. Never told her about his day. Never asked about hers — what she did, or liked, or wanted. Never reached out his thumb, however calloused it was, to wipe away the sprout on her chin. That he was grateful she's next to him, that he loved her.

So when life happened, and Simon was left to pick up his pieces and place them in a way he wanted to be—he thought whomever he will be, anything, but his father.

Anything but him.

And then life happened again but this time it arranged itself in beautiful ways. Because you came with it this time. You and all your silly lovely ways, you who kissed your knee before resting your chin, you who cheered up catching up with fridge' light switching off, you so beautiful, so kind, made up of sundust. His sunshine — lighting up his world.

And God, he was so, so grateful. Every moment, every day !

“I love you,” he’d say the moment he wakes up next to you. Pressing his love on your lips, on your shoulder, on your neck.

“I love you,” when you spill milk in the morning daze and stare at it like it might disappear.

“I love you,” when he wipes your chin and kisses your forehead.

“I love you,” when he takes your hand in his and rubs it between his palm, why ? Because he'll spend his whole life keeping your hands warm than anything else.

“I love you.” because he loves, loves, and loves you so much that it hurts, so much that it heals, so much that it's everything sweet ever happened to him.

“I love you.” for all the ways his father failed, and Simon too, as a son, as a brother — failed to save his mama and lil' brother. I love you, because in loving you he is allowing himself to be loved.

Masterlist

For some reason I see ghost as a small dog guy. Yknow those huge dudes who wear leather and ride motorbikes then have just a cute lil dog wearing a teeny leather vest

I think Ghost would go fucking wild for a king charles spaniel. Soft, bitty dog that looks like it's made to be trussed up in ribbons and bows. Man carries it around under one arm and just sets in down whenever the dog starts wagging a little too excitedly. Enjoys watching it gallop after squirrels and scuttle under bushes. Would probably take it hunting and get side eyed hard by Price and the rest of the 141.

He definitely still has his leathers and big stomps boots, but his little dog is sitting politely by his side with little pink bows on her ears and a big smile on her wittle muzzle. This man gets so much pussy he's drowning in it.

i hate to be that girl but simon would NOT want sex after coming home from deployment. (reader x simon riley)

he would want SLEEP. i know for a fact this man doesn’t even care enough to shower most nights. so you know to hold off on changing them until the day after he comes home. he doesn’t care if the sheets are dirty. besides, your scent helps him sleep better.

he comes home and no matter the time of day, he strips off his clothes down to his boxer briefs.

side note:

price wears briefs

johnny wore briefs until he accidentally wore simon’s underwear and realized boxer briefs are far comfier

kyle wears boxer shorts, definitely has designs on them. beneath his exterior, brother is whimsical asf

he grabs you by the waist and moves you by pushing on you with his entire body weight, essentially forcing you into bed.

on typical nights, he’s a back sleeper. almost vampire like. learned habit.

on nights coming back from work? he collapses onto his stomach. face in pillow. out like a light. one arm draped over your stomach, pulling you closer. he definitely ends up with shoulder pain after. though he doesn’t really care.

in the late afternoon when he wakes up, he finally takes a shower. during his shower you change the sheets.

i imagine earlier in the day you would’ve washed his gear. out of the kindness of your heart. simon insists you don’t have to. he doesn’t need you to do it. he’s capable.

but he appreciates the gesture all the same. half the time he does it he forgets to take the chapstick out of his pocket and ends with oily gear. you always remember.

maybe after a day or two of just sleeping and eating he finds the energy. and it’s always soft. you do most of the work. his bones are tired, muscles weak. half the time he’s injured aswell.

but you like it all the same. you love this routine you have.