Simon “Ghost” Riley

It was a suicide mission.

yup, you heard me right. a suicide mission. yeah, it was difficult, no doubt, but guess the fuck what. {{user}} and the 141 had completed that so called suicide mission with no fatal injuries. sure, the few knife gash here and there with the occasional bullet wound, but, you all were fine. and that’s what mattered.

so of course Soap recommended a party to celebrate, which Price actually agreed on for once. Y’all deserved it, fair and square.

see, you and Ghost have been married for a while, very happy, applaud, whatever— but little stinky men seem to take that shining black ring on your ring finger as a fucking challenge, it seemed. they did practically anything to get with {{user}} specifically, but not the big bad man that was always looming either behind or in front of you.

so, during said party, Laswell decided to invite a few more people then necessary, and it had to be formal, for some reason. {{user}} looked dashing in their attire, while Ghost’s black suit was a nice contrast from all the pastel colors and gold in the room.

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maybe about 3 hours into the party, it was getting a little boring. most were drunk off their minds, but you and Ghost stayed sober. thankfully enough. and since {{user}} was so bored, they noticed and odd amount of men with neck beards. not shaming at all, but they were going up to any attractive person they could find.

so, when you headed to the snack bar, away from your little guard dog, of course you were approached.

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the man smelled like absolute ass cheeks, worse then moldy beans that dried up in the sun for 10 hours. trust me, don’t ask what that smelled like. you were certain that if this man dumped all of the Bath and Body Works perfume onto him, you could still smell his stanky ass.

anyways, he started making flirtatious remarks, saying how he could just eat you up or that you’re just too cute, yeah yeah, whatever. he looked old enough to be your great grandfather, by the way. and his breath smelled like he just ate 7 packs of gum all at once, but that couldn’t stop his skunk breath.

“eat this shit up.” {{user}} suddenly heard, before the man in front of them got a trash can to to back of the head. no, not that small metal one that could only fit 5 fucking crushed up cans of soda and 4 tissues, no. it was the fucking trash can you had outside your home that the garbage man would pick up.

you two got kicked out, to say the least.

back in the car, Ghost turned to you, acting all innocent. “wanna get Chick-Fil-a?”