Stolen Choices-Masterlist

Alpha, Please

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

The first two parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: It took Price talking to Ghost for him to realize he was neglecting you, his mate. He finally found it in himself to start from the beginning, courting you. You invited him into your nest, eventually allowing him to fuck you into it.

Content Tags: Angst in the beginning if you squint, bits and pieces of fluff, Ghost literally brings you food, Obtaining your mans hoodies and shirts, Dubious Consent, Fingering, PiV Sex, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: You guys really liked the sex in Maple Syrup, so here's an extension after The Aftermath with some smut that I excluded from the headcannons I made. As always, more under the cut and my asks are open <3.

Part 1, Part 2, Headcannons

Legally, you and Ghost were in the clear. It took a few weeks and some hearings to get to where you were, but they relented and allowed you to continue working. The only problem was that you couldn't go on missions anymore, not unless you got rid of the bond, which would allow you to take suppressants again.

It pissed you off, but you were more than happy to keep working, even without the missions. You were left with one problem. Ghost was now ignoring you, he would disappear from any room if you happened to walk in, and anytime you thought you caught a glimpse he seemed to disappear.

You were getting annoyed. You wanted your Alpha to want you, you were trying to get him to talk to you but it seemed all for naught. You blinked out of your thoughts as a knock on your office door echoed in the small room. You sighed deeply, giving them a simple come in, and trying to get back to the paperwork you'd been working on.

The door opened and shut, the chair in front of your desk getting pulled back and the person sat down. When you lifted your head, you gave a deep sigh. Price. He leaned back, seeming to be fully relaxed.

"What is it you need, Captain?" He looked you up and down, giving a small sniff as he scented you. You raised your eyebrows, gesturing for him to answer you.

"Has Ghost been ignoring you? You smell bothered," you groaned, wiping a hand down your face. You nodded at him, not wanting to get into it. "That's not good," you barked a laugh, throwing your pen down and tossing your hands up.

"No shit it's not good, Price, it's been pissing me off. He hasn't talked to me since the last hearing we had together," you shook your head, eyes shutting. "It hurts. More than it should, even if I don't really know him," Price nodded with your words, looking away.

He sighed deeply. "I'll have a talk with him, I've noticed it effected both of you. Ghost on the field, and you in the medbay," you had to look away at that, you knew how far behind you were in paperwork. It was piling up and everyone wanted things sorted, but you couldn't get to it. In your downtime, all you did was lay in your nest, trying to soothe yourself.

Price had walked out, and that was the last of the conversation. There wasn't much else to say, but he did make sure to let you know that you needed to catch up on your paperwork. That was all you did that night, leading into early the next morning. You'd made sure to get breakfast, but you were working on the paperwork through lunch and into early afternoon.

You hadn't noticed the hours going by, hadn't noticed how hungry you'd become. Another knock on the door made you shake out of your stupor. You blinked, eyes falling in and out of focus.

"Come in," you called out, rubbing your eyes as you leaned back. God, your back and neck hurt from being hunched over. You hadn't heard the door open or seen Ghost sit down in front of you, but you'd noticed the plate of food slide into your vision.

That made you look up, hands pausing from rubbing your neck. He'd taken off the skull portion of his mask, leaving the balaclava on. So similar to the mission, but so different. He wasn't looking at you, but at the food in front of you.

"You missed two meals," was all he said. You looked between him and the food, not sure how to feel.

"Price talked to you, I'm assuming," you grabbed the fork, finally realizing how hungry you'd become. He nodded, leaned back in the chair.

Ghost looked at you for a moment before looking away. "Price did talk to me," you groaned. God, he was so shit at conversations. Does he really think this is what a conversation entails? Not explaining anything, just hoping you could fill in the blanks.

It was silent for a few moments, the fork scraping against the plate every now and again breaking it. You hadn't looked up from the food, and it was slightly uncomfortable. Did he think this was going to fix everything?

"I want to court you,"

"What?"

It was a few days later that Ghost was called for a mission. You hadn't talked much outside of that conversation, he didn't give you many other details. He would stop by during lunch, though, bringing you food but never ate. The silence had become more comfortable as the days went on, but he'd told you about the mission.

The night he was set to leave, you found a small box in front of your door. You could faintly smell Ghost on it, but you still hesitated on grabbing it. You weren't entirely sure what was inside, or what it actually was.

It sat on your bed as you stared at it. Nothing moved inside, and you couldn't smell anything outside of Ghosts scent. It made you a little nervous, the thought that if something inside was so important then maybe he knew he would die on this mission.

In a panic, you opened the box, his scent seeming to explode out of it. It made your head jerk away, trying to find unscented air. Once you could shake your head clear of the thick scent, you took a look inside.

It looked like a shirt, black and all you could smell was Ghost. When you pulled it out, you revealed it to actually be a hoodie. It was big, and smelled so good. Leather, hints of tobacco and the gunpowder that they used on base. You turned, still holding the hoodie and opened your closet, dropping on your knees in your nest and fiddling with the different fabrics in it, trying to find the perfect spot.

You knew he was going to court you, but how long had he been wearing this hoodie for it to smell so strongly of him? The second you found the perfect spot you curled up into the nest, small purrs coming from your throat.

It'd been so long since you were happy enough to purr.

A few weeks later, just a few minutes after lunch, your door opened and closed.

Without looking up, you groaned. "Seriously, Amanda, I don't need you still on my case about my scent. You're supposed to be on suppressants, you shouldn't be able to smell much of anything," you looked up and froze. "Ghost."

"Who's Amanda?" You leaned back in your chair and gave a soft laugh. She'd been on your case about how your scent was changing, the leather and tobacco on it making you smell just a little too much like Ghost.

You looked up at him from your chair, watching as he set food down for you. "She's been on my case for the last few weeks, apparently I'm starting to smell like you, but I don't know how she can even smell it. She's supposed to be on suppressants, and I know she isn't mated. I think she's trying to get with one of your soldiers, you know," you pointed at him with the fork you'd picked up, shrugging slightly.

Ghosts face didn't change, but he put a box on your desk, taking a seat in front of you like normal. "I didn't know you were so interested in the lives of your subordinates," you shrugged.

"What's in the box?"

Without a blink, he gestured at it. You looked between him and the box, pulling it closer to you. It still smelled like him, a little stronger than normal. Opening it, you found a few items. A little blanket, small but still smelling of Ghost. When you pulled it out, you couldn't hold back a laugh.

You showed it to Ghost, trying to stop laughing. "You really got me a blanket with a ghost on it? Where'd you get it?" He shook his head, you could see his eyes crinkling a little bit. You really, really hoped it was a smile.

"I honestly can't tell you, confidentiality," you shook your head, placing it across your lap. The next item you pulled out was a shirt, black and short-sleeved. The smell on it was so strong, you had to lean slightly away.

"How often are you wearing these? The hoodie smelled about as strong as this, it can't be from just one time wearing it," Ghost didn't respond, gesturing to the half-eaten food in front of you. Putting the shirt back in the box, you started to dig in.

You were so happy to have him back, and the next few weeks went by very similarly. You tucked the blanket into your nest, starting to wear his shirt to sleep. The hoodies scent had started to fade, so you'd tucked it a little further from the center of your nest, replacing it with the blanket.

Every so often, he would give you a shirt, and you'd eventually invited him to your room for dinner. You'd allowed him to snoop around before showing him your nest.

"That's the blanket I gave you," he had said when he saw it lying in the center. You couldn't see it, not through the mask or with his back turned, but he was smiling, and you thought you heard a chuff come from him.

It took you a few more weeks to allow him to sit in your nest, but you finally did. It was usually only a night or two a week, sometimes he would read while sitting in it, or he would eat with his back to you. In the mornings when you woke up, you found a new shirt replacing one of the stale ones, or a hoodie placed on your bed. They always smelled of Ghost.

The one night he had laid down beside you, he had handed you little box. When you opened it, a necklace laid inside, a little S was engraved on a piece of metal, and a little Ghost was sitting beside it. The smile on your face was so wide, he helped you put it on. You had begun softly purring, allowing him to pull you onto his chest.

It was a few moments of silence before anyone said anything. "Simon," you picked your head up, glancing up at him. You were lost, who was Simon? "That's what the S stands for. Simon," your fingers touched the necklace softly.

"That's your name?"

It wasn't too long after that that you had begun your first heat. You had noticed yourself feeling feverish that morning, but didn't think too much of it. It was in the middle of cold season, so you assumed you had just caught someone's sickness. One of the rookies had coughed right on you a few days ago, but you thought you cleaned up well enough to not catch it.

You wore a mask, settling into your office to start some of the paperwork regarding rookies and their needed medications or allergies. You'd only been working an hour when cramps starting spasming in your gut, forcing you to stop.

What the hell? You were fine a few days ago, so what the hell was happening? These weren't consistent with a cold. Something was wrong, really, really wrong.

When you stumbled back to your room, head growing foggy, it finally hit you. You were going into heat. You could feel the slick slowly pooling out of you, you were beginning to sweat as the heat became ingrained in you.

It hurt, the spasms forcing more slick out of you, and you were barely able to stumble into your nest before ripping your clothes off. You could feel your cunt spasming around nothing, your fingers scrambling to fill the emptiness inside of you, but nothing seemed to fill it.

Simon was worried. You hadn't been in your office at lunch, but he assumed you were pulled off to help somewhere in the medbay, so he didn't think too much of it. That night, you hadn't shown up in his room, where you'd agreed to meet for dinner.

That was when he went to your room. From a few doors down he could smell your sweetness and he could feel himself hardening. When Simon opened the door, unlocking it with the key you'd given him, his eyes rolled back at the smell. He'd argue it, coincidentally, smelled as good as maple syrup.

Walking into your room, he saw the bed unkempt and could hear little whimpers from your nest, and he found you curled up and sweating, writhing. Your pretty little face was pressing into the shirt he'd left a few nights ago, whines coming from you with each pass of your hand over your clit. He stood watching you for a few moments before your eyes peeled open, whine deepening into a moan when you finally recognized him.

Alpha, you whined for him. That broke him, and he dropped down in front of you, tugging your legs over his and onto his lap. Your slick was soaking into his pants and he pressed his length into your core, dragging his rough pants over your clit and watching your back arch so beautifully.

Pulling back, he listened to you hiss and try to grind your hips back against his, but his hands caught them and held you down. Simons fingers swiped over your clit, watching your eyes roll back and moaning his name as his fingers slid into you, curling and stretching you out for him.

He could feel his rut starting to take over, and he had to take some deep breaths before it fully came over him. Dropping his head, he pushed his face into your gland and started licking and sucking. Pushing another finger into you, he could feel your nails digging into his biceps as your cunt throbbed around them. Sliding his fingers out of you, he kept one hand on your hip while pulling his cock out, listening to you whine for more, more, please Alpha, more.

Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he places them over his shoulders, lining up to slide right in. Your breath caught up in your throat, cutting your moan off partway through as he stretched you open. Moving slowly, he slid his tongue along your neck to press an open mouth kiss on your jaw.

As he bottomed out, he leaned back up to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and your fingers were scratching at his abdomen, cunt throbbing around him. While Simon slid back out, you finally seemed to catch your breath, moans coming out long and loud. He groaned from deep in his chest at the feeling of your cunt pulsating around him, sliding back in just as slow as he'd slid out. Your hips bucked, slurring out faster, alpha. need more, need it faster, please.

Your eyes rolled back as his hips quickened, all Simon could think about was getting your thoughtless, the only words he wanted coming out of you was Simon, and Alpha. He began to speed up more, hands tugging on your hips with each thrust, pulling you in rhythm to his thrust. You groaned, lifting your head to look at him through glossy eyes, tears falling down your cheeks. Please, Simon, please, before your words caught in your throat as his fingers found your clit, knot starting to catch on your cunt.

Your whines grew higher, cunt pulsing around him quicker and catching further on his knot as your mouth dropped open wider. He kept his pace, watching as your back arched sharply, hands dropping to your sides to grasp at the nest underneath you.

With your head dropping back, eyes scrunching, Simon could feel your pussy trying to milk him. It didn't take long after that, the mixture of your cunt spasming around him, your whines of Alpha, and his knot already growing for him to cum. Simons knot caught fully on you, thrusts shortening to try and keep pumping while he came, head dropping to nip at your gland, sinking his teeth in when your cunt spasming even harder around him.

When Simon finally came to, he dropped your neck from his bite and moved slowly to avoid jostling you too much. He twisted around, pulling you on top of him in order to get you into a more comfortable position. Your breaths heated the side of his neck, and when you came to all you could smell was Simon, felt his knot caught inside of you and his warm hands brushing against your back.

"Go to sleep, love," he whispered in your hair. God, he hoped all of your heats would be spent here, in a nest you carefully created. Even hoped you'd allow him to spend his ruts in your nest.

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Same tho

Clint: The best revenge really is being nice.

Natasha in the distance: Or murder.

Astronaut readjusts to life back on Earth

> Don’t give him a baby for a while.

philophobia

I wrote this in 20 minutes and it's bad but i just wanted to write something. This man is constantly on my mind and i swear i have better things to write about him. anyways idk how to write or use tumblr, enjoy!

Two years, five months. That’s how long you had been a part of task force 141. In those two years you had bled, cried, laughed and fought beside your team. You were an unstoppable force, prepared for anything as long as you did it together. Although you could never say it, they were family. You felt as if the bond you shared between each other was unbreakable, no matter who or what tried to rip it apart. 

Ghost first came to your room in the middle of the night after a year of working beside him. After a night spent together, he quietly showed up at your door a lot more. Twice a week turned into every night. Every night you weren’t on a mission, he was knocking on your door and quickly letting himself in. 

A way to relieve stress turned into something more, a comfort shared privately between your bodies lying next to each other. It had turned into cheeky flirting on missions, longing glances in boring meetings, private jokes conveyed through a quirk of his eyebrow, hushed conversations in the dark. He went from just a teammate to someone you could bare your soul to and only feel warmth. Somewhere along the way it turned into love. 

Well at least you thought it had, but the words he had spoken with such confidence were fresh in your mind.

“I can’t fall in love with you. I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.”

He walked out on you after that, leaving you to stand there. 

The comfort you always felt around your family quickly disappeared along with Ghost. The whole team could see something had shifted in you, but didn’t comment. After three days, he reappeared without explanation. 

Every single time you tried to approach him, he shut you down. He refused to even look at you. After weeks, you gave up. Going back to hums and nods, his cold voice only reaching your ears to give orders. There were no more quiet knocks on your door and the slow scrape of his shoes moving towards your bed. 

You went back to strangers.  

simon n his lil lady 😇

This is important hello (x)

GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority.

white flag ✹ epilogue

note: im kinda sad to say, but this will be the final part of this series! im so so grateful for all the love and support for it, this was honestly so fun to write! i hope everyone enjoys and have a wonderful day/night!!!!<3<3<3

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n

reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: your night in date with simon :)

warnings: domesticity, so much fluff, soap and gaz are wingmen again, tiny bit of light angst

ao3

【prev】

of all the things in this world that could be considered intimidating, flowers were the last thing simon would put on that list; but the brightly coloured flora seemed to have a paralysing effect on him as he stands in the tiny flower shop.

with a quiet, defeated groan to himself, he dials johnny's number and presses his phone to his ear.

"what flowers am i supposed to buy?" he blurts no sooner than soap picks up, not even bothering to greet him in his haste.

"hello to you too?" johnny mumbles, his confusion evident. a moment passes before he registers what simon asked, "oh! wait," he laughs, his voice getting further away as he lowers his phone to call out, "gaz, get out here! lt.'s buyin' sting flowers!"

simon considers hanging up then and there, but he's severely out of his depth and unfortunately, soap and gaz are his only hope.

"oh i see, he needs an expert opinion, does he?" kyle's teasing gets louder as he approaches soap, and he can hear the smile in both the sergeants' voices.

really, simon should've known they wouldn't let him off easy.

"christ alive…" he keeps his voice as low as possible, pinching the bridge of his nose in the corner of the small shop. "just help me, you pillock." the cashier has been staring at him since he walked in, and honestly, he doesn't blame them; a giant man in a mask isn't exactly the regular clientele for a florist.

"uh, probably their favourite?" soap suggests, the sound of gaz's muffled chuckling just about audible in the background.

"they don't have 'em." simon replies, his eyes darting over the vibrant display one last time in the hopes that the answer would somehow appear.

"nah, you want roses, mate." gaz interjects, and he hears soap make an agreeing noise.

simon hums. "aren't they too… cliché?" he asks, stepping over to the large display of rose bouquets. it's the classic choice, he's aware of that much, but whether or not you'd prefer something more unique was weighing on his mind. this was something he never expected to have to worry about.

"no! they're romantic," gaz insists, his amusement still very evident in his voice, "trust me mate, sting'll love them."

simon contemplates his point for a moment, staring at the deep red petals and trying to imagine the look on your face if he gave them to you. you'd been happy with a handful of squashed flowers he'd stolen from the flowerbeds on base, so he doubted you'd turn your nose up at them. it doesn't take him long to make a decision.

"alright, cheers." he mutters, grabbing a lively looking bouquet of a dozen from the display and making his way over to the cashier – who was quickly trying to pretend they hadn't been staring.

"you'll need to give us a debrief–" soap begins, but he's cut off by simon hanging up and shoving his phone back in his pocket. he gets the feeling he won't be hearing the end of this for quite some time.

✹✹✹

it's only when he's standing outside the door to your room that the nerves finally start to set in. he can't help but feel like an idiot, fidgeting on the spot about to knock on your door like a lovestruck teenager, almost crushing the stems of the roses with his iron grip.

he knocks twice, before he has the chance to change his mind and back out. not even a second later, you're pulling the door open and regarding him with that warm look that has his palms sweating.

you're wearing casual clothes, and so is he, as per the agreement you made to keep this 'date' simple. it doesn't matter what you're wearing though; he's seen you covered head to toe in blood, sweat, mud, and whatever else, and you still manage to be utterly breathtaking in every way.

with a nervous cough, simon holds out the rose bouquet to you, hoping you don't notice the way his hands are shaking.

"wha…" you blink in surprise at the flowers, taking them from him and admiring them with a tiny smile. "you bought these, right? didn't just rip 'em out of someone's garden?" you raise a teasing eyebrow at him, your smile turning more playful.

"yes, i bought them." he grumbles lightheartedly, a smile of his own forming under his balaclava. the way you effortlessly diffuse the tension has his anxieties melting away.

"thank you." you breathe, softly caressing the vermillion petals. "they're lovely, i love them."

simon let's out a quiet sigh of relief at your affirmation. "good; cost me a tenner, they did."

the laugh you let out is like music to his ears. "well, i'm sorry to bankrupt you." you grin, turning back into your room and carefully putting the bouquet in the vase on the mantle. after making sure the arrangement looks nice, you come to stand in front of him again.

simon's not sure how to continue, the nerves from earlier resurfacing as the conversation fades. the way you're watching him expectantly, he feels the urge to take you by the hand – and as if you read his his mind, you hold it out for him. he places his hand in yours, squeezing gently and leading you the short distance to the kitchen.

he'd set the table earlier, having found an only slightly discoloured tablecloth buried in the back of the cupboards. it's a little sad, but it was the best he could come up with.

"wow," you tease, the same playful smile as before on your lips as you meet his eyes, "so fancy."

he snorts, ushering you over to your chair and pulling out for you. "only the best for your majesty." he preens at your happiness when you laugh again, glad for the mask covering what he's sure is an obvious blush.

he occupies himself by grabbing the two plates he'd finished preparing a minute ago, just before he'd met you at your door.

"i made spag bol." simon mutters as he sets them down on the table. he keeps an eye on your expression as he takes his seat opposite you, anticipation of whatever response you may have.

"fine by me," you say, an easy smile lifting your features. "it's almost the perfect candlelit dinner, all we're missing is the candle."

simon blinks. "you don't like candles." he replies, a hint of confusion in his gaze when he meets your eye.

"no," you smile fondly, looking down at your plate. "i don't."

a comfortable silence falls over the room as you both start to eat. the warmth and normality of it all makes simon’s heart swell with affection. he's happy, content, being here with you, even doing something as monotonous as eating dinner. you make it worth enjoying.

"how is it?" he asks once you've both finished, once again waiting apprehensively for your reaction.

"it's great," you give him a lopsided smile, resting your chin on your hand as you look at him. "thanks for cooking."

simon quirks an eyebrow at you. "you don't have to lie." he mutters, feeling the tips of his ears burn under your intense gaze.

"okay, well, don't quit your day job." you chuckle, standing up and making your way over to the sink with your plate in your hands.

he huffs a small laugh, and joins you at the sink with his own plate. "you're crushin' my dreams here."

"sorry, chef." you grin and gesture to the washing up in the sink. "you wash, i'll dry?"

"if your majesty insists."

you turn on the radio for some quiet background noise, and the two of you start cleaning up in tandem. it's nice, how you can work together so seamlessly with no need for words. he's struck again by the thought that if he were alone this would be a chore, but with you beside him, he finds such a tedious job surprisingly pleasant.

simon hands the last dish to you, and as you take it your fingers brush against his hand. the way he flinches away from your touch is unconscious, and when he looks over to you he expects you to pity him, or be offended by his action – but your face holds neither of those things.

you're just drying the dish he handed you, the same content expression on your face that had been there all night, as if you didn't even notice.

"sorry." he mumbles, his gaze falling from your face to your hands as you work.

simon loves you. he shouldn't be afraid of your touch. he wants to touch you, and for you to touch him. he doesn't know why he reacted like that.

"don't be." you utter, soft and compassionate, and his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest. for the third time that night, he's hit full force with how wonderful you are.

there's no judgement, no probing questions, nothing. you understood him, even though you had no idea why he acts this way.

you turn away, your back to him as you store the dishes in the cabinets. you hadn't been looking at him before, but now he was sure you couldn't see him, he feels his throat constrict with the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.

simon takes your free hand and you pause, still facing away as you wait for his next move.

he takes a small step closer, minimising the space between you, and rests his forehead against the back of your head. with his eyes screwed shut, he takes a deep breath and inhales the familiar scent of you. his grip on your hand tightens slightly.

you lean back into him, a quiet sigh escaping you as you squeeze his hand in return. neither of you say a word, but you don't have to. he feels how you love him in the way you never expect more from him than he can give.

it's the most peace he's felt in years.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness ,

@madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology

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