Simon 'Ghost' Riley Oneshots

fizzling - angst ✓

Angst: ghost x reader

Includes: your relationship with ghost slowed, and the romance died down, the functionality of it sizzled, leaving u grasping strings to pull it together. (Spoiler, you don't.)

sort of a blurb

gender neutral

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you never imagined yourself becoming official with the man you met during your service, but despite all odds you did. secret feelings blossomed, gaining personal numbers after a particular long and indulgent mission together. you two couldn't help but talk more, finding excuses to see eachother on base and greet eachother in the briefing room. eventually- something more than a secret grew.

it was casual, a date here and there and you two swore it couldn't lead to more. but after you got assigned different posts- separate squadrons- you decided maybe it was something to explore. he worried it was inappropriate to indulge in something together while working so closely, but now maybe it wasn't quite. so you explored.

you let things get more personal, physical. you saw him naked, bare of his mask, and he saw the same. you started to spent nights together, which turned into late mornings and grabbing a quick coffee. you became something, and that was okay. you knew how he was, and as you got to know him you began to feel comfortable in his reserved nature. you understood what you were diving into. you didn't think anything would ever come from this, but here you were now an official couple. even recognized on base for it, earning remarks from your comrades and commander himself. you let it happen, and so did he.

it went on for a while, things were just so good. you understood eachother, the shared military experience forging a special bond between you two. and you eventually moved in together. it just made it easier- didn't it?

it was passionate, seeing eachother nightly on the days you were back home- having conveniently shifted your schedules to almost perfectly line up. it all felt so right- so good- up until it didn't.

your nights spent together dwindled, sleeping in the shared bed by yourself more often than you would have liked. it was slow, something you never even noticed at first. he started to decline intimacy, neglecting to initiate more and the feelings of skin lingering less and less as the weeks went on. you assumed he was stressed and it would go away soon, but it didn't. he started to spend more nights on the couch, staying up late until you couldn't hold your eyes open as you waited for him in bed, finding him asleep in the living room by morning. it was strange, and even when you tried joining him by the couch, the behavior never wavered.

he hugged you less, kissing were given sparingly. the day your anniversary came, he was late to your planned dinner. he had cheap flowers, and seemed to rush through eating. forgetting his usual line about how he loved you, and wanting to order his favorite dessert. that was when you truly started to notice something was- wrong.

it worried you, scared you. was the relationship finally failing?

it had been so good for so long, it made no sense. what had happened? was it something i did, had he lost interest-? it plagued you for days.

as you now kept an eye on him more closely, you noticed just how intensely he changed. beer was a more frequent beverage in the fridge, and he started to lock the bathroom door when he would shower. no longer leaving it open teasingly and inviting you in to join. he didn't compliment you, even when you would step out in just a towel after your own shower. nothing. he even ignored it when you made an effort to buy new lacey lingerie, grunting when you were perched on the bed practically begging for him to touch you. and for the first time in days he did, but it wasn't the same.

it was no longer filled with passion, like it was just the two of you in the entire world. he didn't kiss you, or coo at you while you made love. it was a means to an end now, like you were just a body to get on top of.

it was painful. and all you could do was watch and wait, letting out silent sobs after it was over and he left the room. how was this happening?

you knew it would dwindle down farther, until there was nothing left. like you were mere roommates. and even by the end of it, it felt more like strangers.

the night you decided you finally had enough, you sat on the rarely shared bed and waited. he said he would be home at 10, seeming to go out to the bar with a few comrades of 141, but then that bled into 12. then 1. it took another half hour for him to stumble home, not drunk but not exactly sober. it wasn't like him to do that, his tolerance was high, and he never liked letting alcohol truly get far enough in his system like this.

you called out his name a few times. simon. simon. before he met you in the bedroom. he was confused to see you there, sitting so straight at the edge of the bed and staring up at him. you went to pat the spot next to you, but upon seeing the reserve in his body to come fully into the room, you stopped. can we talk? you croaked. he struggled to reply. it's serious, si. we really need to talk. he again, could barely reply. but he atleast listened, standing in the doorway as you threw out words at him trying to explain your position and concern. telling him about every worry and change you've seen. you begged him to work it out, to help fix it. but all he could do was deny. nothing was different.

it blew into a fight, a big one. probably the biggest you had ever had. there was yelling, his voice raising for the first time at you. you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to further explain yourself, wondering why he was so upset. and when he didn't flinch at the sight, you knew.

i cant continue us like this, si.

more tears would hit your cheeks.

then don't.

his words shocked you. but was it really a surprise? you knew it would lead to this, you just couldn't accept it. but now, months later, you were understanding it. you couldn't fix it. he didn't want to, for whatever reason. something you probably wouldn't ever find out.

so you left.

you spent a final night in the apartment you had rented together, in separate room, before packing your bags in the morning. he has nothing to say when he saw you walking to the door. instead watching with a clench jaw and fidgeting eyes. you didn't spare a bye, rushing out the door before you started to cry again. you left, heading to a friends and crashing on their couch until you managed to find a new living situation. you tried to text him, asking for some compliance in figuring out to sever ties without fucking eachother over. he did it, but managed to not spare much but an ok after a long paragraph from you.

you ignored him at work, never being in the same room anymore. but you asked around, trying to see if anyone knew anything. you asked his best friend, the goofy man named soap. a good friend of your own. and he had nothing to say than what you had already heard. he said you weren't together, and to not ask.

there was a reason you knew, and you hoped maybe you would find it, but the day your transport papers came to your desk you knew,

you would never understand it, and would never get your closure.

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little bit of sad stuff for ur horny minds

god i kinda love writing a dickhead ghost