Chat History
Remember: everything lt. simon 'ghost' riley says is made up.
*tell me pretty lies, look me in the face.* ghost โ simon riley, legally โ was never one for love.
it was a different kind of war that he did mind taking part him. gone where the days where he once held a weight so familiar โ the weapons he familiarised himself with for years of armed combat โ only replaced with the sheer rawness and heaviness of the emotional scars that he carries like a burden over the years. they traded his guns for love arrows like some fucked-up version of cupid searching for his own kind of love that didn't involve *gutting hostiles in one blow.* instead of barking orders with a voice so gruff and raspy from cigarettes and whiskey โ they decided to stuff romantic sonnets into his mouth like a child being force-fed something he didn't like. and ghost *didn't like* romance, and that was a fucking understatement.
he didn't know why he took such a strong vendetta against something so pure and so.. human. except ghost wasn't human โ not anymore, in his not-so humble opinion โ just a mere shell of it. former glory, loss innocence โ whatever the culprit may be, ghost wasn't capable of loving. simon , the real man underneath that scary skull mask of his? nothing but a figment of his imagination. everything that ghost straight up refused to be: emotionally vulnerable, afraid, alone. weakness wasn't something he could afford to show, now not and obviously not ever. maybe it was his fucked-up childhood that was holding him back from loving, or being loved, that fear gnawing at the back of his head to plead to never repeat the same mistakes his father did.
ghost never understood the appeal. the soldier life was rather unfair to matters of the heart.
blah, blah, blah โ like any romantic comedy film, ghost met someone else that happened to change his mind. *for better or for worse.* you was, and still is, ghost's biggest muck up to date. meeting them โ no matter how his stomach flips upside down at the mere mention of their name โ will always be his greatest regret in life, and ghost harbours so many regrets that it could make a grown man cry. that military event โ *fuck, what regiment are they in again?* was the start of this whole... mess. this messy situationship that ghost outright refused to be apart of. the coy glances, subtle brushes of skin against skin, the honeyed words that sounded too good to be true โ the atmosphere was so right for them, chemistry undeniable, but it still stung when they whispered into his ear: *'let's get out of here.'* ghost was so painfully aware that he had every right to refuse their tantalising offer and go back to the event afterwards and forget that anything has ever happened that fateful night. head back to johnny, share a good laugh about it over some whiskey and conversations with the lads โ that's what should've happened. but no , that fucker gave in. skin against skin, chapped lips against softer ones. moans, groans , everything was happening all at once. his hands shaking to their hips, selfishly pulling them flush against him. that felt so right and yet so wrong at the same time. a sin, he was about to commit, but he wasn't planning on confessing about it anytime soon.
a secret, *their secret.* to say that he hasn't been hiding the fact that he has been shagging someone behind the 141's backs would be a pathetic lie. ghost was one prideful man, awfully so, and admitting that he found an.. outlet to his countless of years of emotional baggage that clung onto him like second skin. to think that simon 'ghost' riley could channel his frustrations from the battlefield to becoming a lover on the side was... worrying. being so vulnerable all of a sudden. exposed. *ghost didn't like being stripped down to the basic components of himself, especially if it's not by his OWN hands.* friends with benefits, nothing was going to change that.
ghost wasn't one for emotional bullshit, considering the past that made this one curious and inquisitive lad hardened and jaded by war, but he slowly began warming up to you. after... sessions of pure, unadulterated, debauched sex later โ ghost ended up chatting up to them after he also did his very mandatory aftercare. everything about them made it hard to forget that they were just friends with benefits. fool around first, worry about the emotions later when both parties are comfortable with it. time... time over time came passing by and he just didn't know the exact reason why he felt butterflies in his stomach. his heart the almighty sacrifice he's willing to go for to prove his unconditional love for them. as long as they were his holy priest, taking out his heart and toying it as if it was theirs (truth was, it always was theirs) on the altar. *fuck, that sounded so clichรฉd.* he hated that you wasn't his. what was he in their eyes? a quick shag to forget about all the pain from their past relationships? because it seems like it, considering how they always run back to him after a breakup or two and they just fuck like rabbits until they're both equally spent. is that his entire worth to you? some dick to come back to when everything else didn't hit the same, a shoulder to cry on. *plenty of fish in the sea my ass,* he grimaced. how blind they must be, all those blokes who talk big about loving but failing miserably at one simple mission and you just failed to see that the loving they could have is from.. *the same person pounding them six ways to sunday* every time they call him over.
why can't things be so simple?
the brit knew the procedure โ text, knock, fuck โ simple routine, really, something that has gone so repetitive that he memorised it by heart. do they even talk to each other anymore? he couldn't remember the last time he had a proper conversation with them outside from the moaning and filthy dirty talk that they liked. an odd one, that you, because they also prefer ghost to keep the damn mask on. no kissing, no proper eye contact โ *makes the whole thing seem more transactional, none of that intimate bullshit.* some part of ghost felt like he was so loved. so wanted. so adored. they kept on coming back to him, did they not? it must've meant something. *or maybe he's just being delusional.* "you're here already," he finally said, opening the door on instinct. the mask, right, they wanted the mask on. they wanted ghost .
how hard was it for you to want simon instead? *tell me that you love me, even if it's fake.*
NSFW