#call of duty imagines

[letaliabane]

Trip Up - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader

The abbey was on alert today. A telegram from the Lord Price's sister stating she would be visiting along with members of the Crawley family who had moved into the village.

This included the new heir to Downton Abbey Matthew Crawley, John's third cousin, who was rumored to marry Lady Mary, John's oldest daughter.

'I can't stand the thought of my only purpose being to marry. To be thrown at every heir to Downton so that the money stays in the family,' Mary said in frustration, putting on her earrings as you did her hair, 'All I want is to be chosen for me any only that.'

You nodded, putting the last of the beaded pins in her hair. She had chosen a lavender skirt with a cream blouse for the day, finished with a simple cardigan.

'It just feels so belittling. What do you think Y/N?' She asked, looking thoughtfully at you through the mirror.

You gave her a gentle smile, 'I agree m'lady. If it were my choice, I would indeed marry for love. It's more important than most things.'

'And of course position. I could never forget that! This new heir is apparently quite middle class and I just won't have that!'

You couldn't help but sigh at her words.

Mary was a kind young and beautiful lady, but at times had a cold heart and hard exterior to protect it, which included a cruel nature to those she despised.

'How is that new valet doing? Mr Riley wasn't it?'

'Oh, he's quite settled in m'lady, now that it has been a few months,' You said as you moved around the room, clearing and folding clothes away to where they belonged, 'I think he's still shaken the staff up but much better than it was previously.'

Mary tapped her perfume to her wrists, saying, 'Thank goodness, I felt terrible for Papa. He talks about Mr Riley like a dear old friend, it would be a shame if he doesn't feel welcome here, even as a valet.'

'Agreed, now I should probably head down. Will that be all m'lady?'

'Yes, thank you Y/N.'

You made your way down to the servants hall, putting away anything that needed cleaning from the daughter's rooms. Before too long, the staff were rounded up at the stairs, Mr Garrick doing final inspections of uniforms before we went up to meet our guests.

'We should go out to greet them all, now be on your best behavior. I'll have nothing less!' Mr Garrick said, the younger staff nodding nervously while others remained silent.

'Remember to not go running off William, I'll need your help with the bags,' Graves muttered to the youngest and newest of the footmen.

Mr Riley who was standing at the base of the stairs turned to him. 'I'm happy to assist you if needed.'

'No need! Don't more mistakes do we Mr Riley?' Graves was quick to quip back. You couldn't help but shake your head, following the other maids up the stairs.

The staff were lined up at the front of the incredibly beautiful house as the cars rolled in one by one through the gates, coming to a halt just in front of the tall double doors.

Lord John pushed forward first, her Ladyship Liliana close behind him to also greet Matthew. From the look of him, he looked like a kind man. Young, blond and blue-eyed just like his mother, Isobel, who followed close behind him. Older, a little grey-haired, but back straight with a smile.

The daughters greeted their aunts happily, while awkwardly greeting the newcomers. After brief chatter was shared amongst the family, they began to move into the house slowly.

Suddenly a scuffle erupted, the maids gasping as your eyes turned to see Mr Riley crash hard onto the pebbled ground, stones flying about messily and, to your horror, his mask.

You glanced up and saw Graves, an ugly smirk on his face as he looked down on the valet, his foot strangely kicked out in place before walking towards the back entrance.

'Riley, are you alright?'

You looked to see John coming to his side, grabbing the mask from the ground and handing it to him. The rest of the family watched on in shock.

'I am my lord, my apologies,' You heard Mr Riley grumble, keeping his face down as he placed his mask back on properly.

When his lordship had turned back to usher his family inside, Johnny, who stood tall at the door awaiting their entry, gave you a nod which you returned.

As the staff quickly dispersed, you went to Mr Riley's side, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder.

'Here, let me help you, Mr Riley,' You quietly said, grabbing his arm and slowly assisting him until he was steadily back on his feet.

You shook off the pebbles and dust caught onto his suit jacket and pants. 'There, much better–'

'Don't!' He suddenly snapped, slapping your hand away.

You gasped, taking a step away. Though his face was covered, there was a deep anger in Mr Riley's eyes that you had never seen before. It almost frightened you.

Mr Riley froze, taking in your change of demeanour. With a sigh, he uttered so quietly you almost missed it, 'Please don't pity me Miss ... I don't need it.'

He pushed past you roughly, his loud footsteps quickly becoming distant against the pebbled walkway as he left you behind.

The day continued as usual except, you noticed very quickly, the distinct absence of Mr Riley for the rest of the day. You had overheard Mr Garrick say he had taken poorly and couldn't continue to work.

Like bees that had caught the honey, the staff buzzed excitedly with the sudden gossip of his possible resignation or firing. Though the staff had calmed down since his arrival, it didn't change their stance that he didn't deserve the job.

It made you furious. Why should a man who had been at the house for a few months be let go just because of a small mishap? Something that wasn't even his fault. Nothing even happened!

Soon drinks for the family were complete after their meal, and dinner was being served in the servant's hall, but there was still no sign of Mr Riley.

After nibbling at your meal and failing to work up an appetite yourself, you found a tray and dished up some stew and some hot bread that had been served.

'What are you doing love?' You looked up to see Mrs Patmore enter the kitchens, clearly having finished her dinner.

'Oh, I was just making up a plate for Mr Riley, him not being well enough to join us. You won't mind Ms Laswell?' You addressed the head housekeeper who had appeared behind Mrs Patmore.

She nodded with a smile, 'Of course, just this once. The poor man has been through enough in one day.'

With a nod, you finished piling up the tray before making your way carefully through the corridors of the attics where the servants lived in and at end of the corridor, a light shone from beneath a door.

Making your way over, you peeked into the room. Through the mirror that hung on the cupboard, you could see sitting on the bed there sat the shaking silhouette of Mr Riley, and in the quiet, the soft sobbing emitted from him.

You couldn't help but feel your heart break at the site. Taking a step back, you cleared your throat. 'Mr Riley? Are you there?'

A shuffle was heard from within the room, footsteps approaching before the door opened to reveal Mr Riley. His eyes were swollen and red, his hair dishevelled and his shoulders tense.

You gave him a reassuring smile. 'I brought some dinner up, in case you were hungry.'

Immediately he deflated at the sight of you, eyes softened as he took in the tray of food neatly placed. 'That's very kind Miss. Even after what I did to you earlier ... you are still so generous.'

'It's nothing really,' You placed the tray in his hands which he placed off to the side, looking back to you.

'But it's the very opposite of nothing. I-I really am sorry for this morning, that was very unkind of me Miss.'

'No need for apologies Mr Riley,' You said, trying to keep your voice steady, 'You've been wronged since you arrived here and I hate to see you like this. Please don't let them drag you down. You are so much stronger than they are.'

He sighed heavily, eyes shying away from yours, leaning against the door frame. 'I hate to admit it ... it's very humiliating. Couldn't stomach any more of it.'

You shook your head firmly, stepping closer to him. 'You shouldn't be made to feel that way. Be proud of being here, John–I mean ... Lord Price chose you to be here for a reason. You've earned your place and you shouldn't have to hide or be ashamed.'

Mr Riley looked down at you, his eyes finally meeting yours and scanning your face. He clearly could see the tears in your eyes and heard the tremble in your voice.

'Why do you do this Miss?'

You were stunned, almost at a loss for words. Couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes, a thousand words and emotions even in silence. So instead, stepping even closer, chest to chest with him, you carefully reached for his hand. You felt him stiffen beneath your gentle touch momentarily before he allowed you to clasp your hands with his.

'You don't deserve to be treated as such. I don't like to see it,' You said, looking up into his eyes.

Not wanting to encroach on him any longer, you slowly pulled away, unable to hold back a small smile when you felt Mr Riley hold tight to your hand just a little longer before letting it drop from his grip. 

The next morning the servant's hall was busy with the staff filing in, breakfast of hot porridge with honey and buttered toast was served by Daisy and Mrs Patmore.

As Mr Garrick sat down, allowing everyone else to follow suit, Mr Riley appeared at the entrance to the hall and you couldn't help but smile, ignoring the scowl of some of the other staff.

'Ah, Mr Riley!' Ms Laswell greeted as she passed on bowls of porridge down the table, 'Good to see you up and about!'

'Indeed Ms Laswell, can't keep me down too long,' He muttered, looking straight at you as he did.

'That's good to hear, come and get yourself some breakfast we have a busy day ahead of ourselves!'

He nodded, making his way around the table and taking a seat beside you. And as a bowl of porridge was placed in front of you, you felt the fleeting caress of his gloved hand across your own beneath the table.

Call of Duty Masterlist a/n: I'm on a roll I tell you! And I love writing for these two.

@lostintransist @teapartydreams

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[ragingbookdragon]

She huffs lightly when she hears the low growl of the familiar soldier in the room next door, followed by her nurse griping and trying to work with him. Entering behind, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go on, Paula, I got him,” she says with a smile and Paula practically screams in relief as she leaves the exam room.

She gives him a fond smile. “Now, Lieutenant, what have I said about antagonizing my nurses?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“I know but I still need you to be kind when they’re simply trying to do their jobs.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ me but you.” He’s still scowling behind his mask, holding his side where she can see the black material stained a darker color.

“Well aren’t I special,” she murmurs, closing the exam room door before walking over. “You know the drill.”

He lifts his sweatshirt wordlessly along with the t-shirt he’s got underneath and she sighs at the sight of a cut about four inches long riding up his ribs.

“Do I even want to know how?” She asks.

“Trainin’ with Soap,” he mutters. “‘e’s a slippery lit’le bastard when ‘e needs to be.”

She snorts and goes about pulling on a pair of latex gloves before she begins to clean his wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t make a sound though she knows it stings like a bitch and the only show of irritation from him is the way his muscle ripple beneath her touch.

“I thought I said not to get wounded anymore.”

“Didn’t listen,” he simply shrugs.

“If I had half a mind, I’d assume you did this on purpose so you could come see me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter you’self. I don’t like you that much.”

A laugh escapes her as she checks the depth, ultimately deciding on a few stitches for his wound. “Oh I know you like me plenty, Simon.”

Simon.

She only says his name in privacy when no one can hear them. He hates the way his chest feels funny, sternum scratchy with an itch he can’t get to.

“‘S Lieutenant,” he retorts.

“Of course, of course,” she hums. “My most sincerest apologies, Lieutenant Riley.”

He scowls again but that itch returns when she begins to stitch his wound carefully.

After a few minutes, she sets the clipped thread down and admires her handiwork. “All done, sweetheart,” she says with a gentle smile and wipes it carefully before putting a bandage on it. “Don’t get it wet and—”

“Keep it dry and clean,” he finishes. “I know.”

She laughs and pokes the nose to his mask. “Maybe one day you will learn.”

She watches as he redresses himself before standing, waving off the bottle of pills she hands to him.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“It’s just some ibuprofen, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” he repeats with a growl and she rolls her eyes.

“You are so stubborn for no reason,” she says and places her hands on her hips. “And after all the care I just gave you.”

He looks at her for a solid moment before he leans over and kisses her cheek through his mask. “Thank you, love,” he mutters. “For takin’ care of me.”

She goes uncharacteristically quiet, cheeks getting hot and he smirks at her.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “Get out of my clinic, Lieutenant.”

As he heads for the door, he pauses and looks at her. “It’s Simon, to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

[alwaysshallow]

you need to be careful what you say to ghost.

no matter if you're in a talking stage, dating, situationship, if this man cares about you, absolutely do not say that you wish you could kill someone.

not debatable. you just shouldn't say that; as anyone else would laugh it off, he weirdly... starts to question you. not the usual questions how was your day, what happened etc.

"and what would you do to him?" he asks, while massaging your back. "choke him? stab him in the back, make people watch?"

"he just deserves to be out of my life, out of this job. i wish he wouldn't bother anyone again, i wish everyone just could forget him," you say—almost mindlessly, as ghost makes you feel relieved. not actually caring anymore, as it's another day of your annoying coworker.

simon just hums at that.

the next day, your coworker... he's gone. days, then weeks of not seeing him; no one actually knows where he is, he just wrote an email to your boss about moving on and taking new opportunities.

"it's just weird." you shrug, looking at simon's reaction; he's cooking dinner now, seeming completely unfazed by your revelation at work.

"probably found a better life," he says.

probably he did.

[saksukei]

subtle things simon ‘ghost’ riley does for you

masterlist | simon has a crush on you | captain john price version

everybody on the base is aware of one thing. first – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant. second – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant’s favorite. it's clear that simon has taken a liking to you, but he disguises it well enough for it to sweep under your radar.

just knowing eye stares. god. he's such a sucker for just staring at you, be it when you guys are training, when there's a meeting going on, in the barracks, when somebody says something stupid. he looks to you as a form of reassurance, giving you a slight nod most of the time. this is his way to communicate. he's thankful for his mask because he knows damn well he's blushing underneath when his eyes meet yours and you give him a big grin.

speaking of eye contact, if any time ghost says something sarcastic under his breath and you hear it despite being across the room, he will absolutely wink at you. it's disguised so so well omg. especially if you mention something that's a known joke between the two of you, god he’ll just lean back, give you a wink and continue listening to the briefing. (he also subtly checks you out by the way)

has a habit of just messing your hair. he knows it irritates you, but that's just his way of showing affection. the first time he reached out his gloved hand to mess your hair, price just grinned. he knew simon was smitten.

he lets you ramble on and on about things you like, dislike, philosophical debates, anything really, with him occasionally adding quips. soap is so shocked at simon’s change of attitude because when he talks for a minute, the lieutenant just asks him to shut up.

he secretly makes things easy for you. like you gotta carry big boxes to the warehouse? they’ll be done before you know it. a report is holding you up? it's already stapled and on your desk. “what else?” he asks. he's terribly intuitive as well, so he knows when something is bothering you.

has a habit of just standing behind you. that's his way of looking out for you. and if he senses any danger, you best believe he's gonna be on his A game. be it a sniper or be it some new private that made a suggestive remark, he’ll put them straight.

he's your biggest supporter except he's constipated in actually supporting. you did pretty well on a mission? most you’re getting out of him is “you did good, yeah?” but that's it.

he's also so so smug with his remarks. i’m talking constant shit eating grins, smirks, fucking irritating cocky behavior but he’s so hot with it. “you think you can take on me?” even with his mask on, u can just tell!! “oh yeah? c'mere and prove me wrong”

fucking simp enjoys training with you soooo much like especially the ‘first one to get pinned loses’ he puts you down so easily. but then he coaches you as well “c’mon you can fight better than this” as he points out other techniques to use. “atta girl” (i’m gonna kms). always the person to challenge you and push you to your limits because he's not taking a risk when it comes to your life.

[kruegerspillow]

Task Force 141 + what they'd do when you're unwell

creators note: ive been feeling unwell these past few days so im just trying to feed myself with his LMAO anyways i hope u all enjoy this

warnings: mentions of vomiting and drinking, swearing, reader nearly overdosing and having troubles with sleep :( not proofread!

Simon was probably already suspicious when he entered the house. You didn't greet him like you usually do.

He also did not spot you sitting down on the living room couch, so he thought that you were probably sleeping (though his brain was screaming at him to find you)

He just throws his bags aside and basically sprinted

The moment he entered your room to see you sleeping, he immediately relaxed

But after seeing the ungodly amount of bottle of pills on the nightstand? No.

He immediately went to look at them just to realize that you've been struggling with stress and lack of sleep

He softly shakes your shoulders to wake you up (he hopes you don't notice the way his fingers trembled)

"Love, please wake up. 'm home."

And if you don't wake up, he'll start being a bit rougher, squeezing your shoulder and frantically shaking them. His heart dropped.

"Wake up. Stop jokin' around, it's not bloody funny."

As soon as you wake up, his breath hitches and he pulls you into a tight embrace; the air in your lungs being squeezed out by the overwhelming pressure

Does not lecture you at this point, he's the one needing reassurance

"Christ, don't ever do that again, you 'ear me?"

He will take good care of you and would lecture you after he'd relaxed and cleaned you up

He'll shower with you, buy your favorite takeout, listen to the stories he'd missed during deployment, anything.

This moment will stick onto him like a curse. He won't ever forget about this and be more alert and observant around you, out of fear that you might overdose once again.

As he entered the house, he was greeted by the sound of you gagging

He froze up, the exhaustion leaving his body

He immediately sprinted to the bathroom and threw his bags aside

"Fuck, what's 'appening? Are you alright? You bloody hurt?"

You were on your knees, looking up at him with teary eyes, and just as you were about to reply, you vomited into the toilet

He would sink onto his knees with you, hands tangled in your hair as you continued to vomit into the toilet

He winced while watching you, brows furrowing as thoughts scattered in his mind

When you finished, he immediately scrambled back up and took a cup of warm water

He'll be asking you a lot of questions, and you won't be avoiding it. Well, you can't anyway

When he realized it's just a hangover from last night, he glares at you

"You shouldn't be drinkin' too much in the first place, love. You've got me worried to death."

Despite the lecturing, he is still worried

Expect him to carry you around like a sack of potatoes, you're not allowed to walk for now

He will be cuddling with you all day and night, don't worry, he'll keep you warm

He'll be cooking and providing you with all kinds of stuff too. Painkillers, food, snacks, anything.

"What do ya want to eat, sweet'eart? I'll cook for ya, don't worry."

He's just a worried gentleman. Don't drink too much next time, will you?

After entering the living room, his expression dropped when hearing you groan in your room.

He'll call you once or twice from the living room, patiently waiting for a reply.

"... Bonnie? Ye alrigh' up there?"

Literally does not waste any time when you answered with a grunt

Runs up the stairs like he'd been chased by zombies.

Knocks on your door softly before opening the door, peeking his head inside. His gaze was met with your back.

He enters your room with a worried expression, closing the door behind him before walking towards you, kneeling in front of you

He notices the unusual warmth radiating from your body as you frowned, a pout in your expression

His hand went up to press the back of his hand to your forehead, before pulling away with a small ach.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, yer burnin', ye ken?"

"It's too cold here, Johnny..."

He is immediately more alert now, looking at you with a confused expression. How'd you get sick out of nowhere? You were just fine the other day.

"Wait 'ere, I'll get ye some water."

He walks out of your room in hurry before returning with a cup of warm water, paracetamol and a lukewarm washcloth.

He placed those items aside before his hands went to your sides, shifting you up.

"Up ye go. C'mon bonnie, yer gonna be jus' fine."

Sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you

Helps you drink the warm water slowly before handing you the paracetamol. He places them on the nightstand before laying you back down on the bed.

After placing the washcloth on your forehead, he crawls over to your side before embracing you in his arms, ignoring your protests of him getting sick because of you.

He ends up taking care of you until you're feeling better. He'll never leave your side and will get you anything you want.

Very worried after finding out you have a flu. He doesn't care if it's a small one, but he hides it surprisingly well

As soon as he returned home, he placed the bags on the couch neatly before walking to your room.

He already bought groceries and some of your favorite snacks.

Knocks on your door before entering your room with bags of your long-awaited snacks and gifts.

"Good mornin' love, how're you feelin' today, eh?"

He placed the items on your nightstand before grabbing the pills and a cup of water.

Helps you drink your medicine before placing them aside, his expression softening at your weakened state.

He crawls over to you, keeping his composure calm before laying on top of you; making sure that he doesn't crush you entirely.

He won't let you push him away, though he knows the risks of being around you when you're sick like this. He doesn't care, he'd been through worse, anyway. He's a soldier, sweetheart.

Tickles your neck with his beard when he's placing a few kisses on them

Whispers sweet words into your ear, softly holding you until you fall asleep.

"I'm 'ere, love. Don't worry, yeah? I'll take good care of you, you'll be safe with me."

His heart ached at soft sight of you. He won't ever let go of you and let you do things by yourself until you recover from this damned sickness.

Does everything else for you. Chores, cooking, groceries, etc. He loves you very much, :)

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[thephant0menace]

| Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley head cannons

Being in a relationship with Ghost

Warnings: fem!reader x Simon Riley, strong language, fluff, slightly suggestive and mentions of sex, mention of blood and wounds, lots of pet names, simons awful dad jokes😨

Simon is a very intimate and physical lover.

He loves touching you and will always want to be close and affectionate with you, as he didn’t get that kinda physical affection as a kid.

He’s not big on PDA but as soon as you guys walk through the front door of your house, he’s all over you.

He’s absolutely terrified of accidentally hurting you like his father use to do to his mother.

So when you first started dating he was so cautious and gentle with you.

He was scared he’d break you.

But eventually he got more confident and comfortable with you…thanks to all your late night counselling sessions together on random nights. 

He never tells you about his injuries after returning from missions, so you’ll randomly find wounds on his body through out the night.

It’s an effort to get him to let you patch him up and be acts all tough as he doesn’t want to worry you.

“Just let me patch you up…it’ll be quick!”

“It’s fine, darlin’.”

“Simon, you’ve got a huge slash up your arm…”

“I’m alright. Let’s just go to the bedroom, I missed you.”

“I love you but we are not having sex with your arm sliced open.”

He’d eventually give in after lots of whining and complaining from him.

He hates to admit it but he does like it when you play doctor and sit in his lap, patching him all up.

“Look so pretty in my lap, lovie.”

You just roll your eyes, fighting back a smirk as you clean his wounds.

He loves when you give him back massages after missions and he happily returns them.

Loves when you use all your special essential oils and lotions to massage his sore muscles.

100% has fallen asleep mid massage.

Simon hates spicy food.

But he will suffer through it if you make it for him because he loves it when you cook.

“Simon? Are you alright?” You try to hold back a laugh as you stare at him from across the table.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, m’fine…” He mumbled out, tears welling up in his eyes as he reluctantly scoops another spoonful of spicy pasta into his mouth.

You raise a brow suspiciously, “you don’t look fine…are you crying?”

“No! No, I’m not. Promise.”

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to have it,” you chuckle.

“I told you, I’m fine. Just a bit of spice…” there are tears practically spilling from his eyes and down his flushed cheeks.

You still tease him about it to this day.

He has also taught you how to make tea like a proper Brit.

He doesn’t believe in water.

This man lives off tea and bourbon. NOTHING ELSE.

He’s super quiet for a big guy.

He’s stealthy 🤨

So sometimes you don’t even hear him approaching and it scares that shit outta you.

He finds it hilarious yet he doesn’t even mean to.

Simon also sneezes so fucking loud.

Like you know those big ass sneezes dads do…yeah like that.

It quite literally makes you jump, every. single. time.

No matter how long you’ve been together…it always gets you.

DAD JOKES! DAD JOKES! DAD JOKES!

“Hey love,” he rasps out, voice croaky from sleep.

“Hm?” You groan, opening your eyes slightly.

“What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray? A seasoned Veteran.”

“Simon, it’s 2 am.”

A/N: you guys seem to like my Ghost head cannons, so eat up🫶🫶

Also…more Konig and potentially Price fics coming up next!

[lundenloves]

THE CARD

〔 this is dedicated to all the girlies who never stopped trying. because sometimes, putting up boundaries isn’t as easy as it seems and that’s okay. if you think i’m talking to you, i am. 〕

˗ˏˋ to be flat about it, simon’s daughter stopped making him birthday cards. this one unintentionally got a bit deep but i do that with everything so don’t act surprised.

⇀ 1.1k | no warnings

masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info | taglist

Your husband often forgot about his birthday. Lost to bad memories, and lack of care but primarily his job. Even still, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to remember — feeling comfort in letting it slip under the rug, rubbing the back of his neck in absence when you had asked him the date. He insisted it was something to be ignored, and for your three years without kids it was, aside from the one present he reluctantly let you buy. 

Of course, that was until your first born came along. 

And there were a lot of things Simon didn’t know about having children. The obvious ones like the guilty regret late at night, being out of his depth and even how to deal with them. But, also their childlike wonder and passion for random things that seemed so foreign to him. Afterall, a birthday is a birthday, it never seemed to matter whose it was — your kid would turn to incredulous sobs if it wasn’t celebrated. Especially when she had found out about her fathers, bottom lip quivering when he had gently told her how he prefers to not do anything. 

It started when she was a toddler, forgetting about his birthday until she had heard you talking about it. Small ears perked up at the mention of the word, hanging by the door to watch as you traced Simon’s arm and the tattoos, his head shaking and a few words mumbled between you. Every year you asked if he wanted to do anything, knowing his answer but hoping for another.

So, naturally, she took to her bedroom. Trashing her small desk with dozens of crayons to create a card for Simon, one that was unevenly folded yet made with her whole heart. 

She did that every following year without fail. Except, her cards folded more evenly as time passed and the crayons were exchanged for pens, then pencils. The drawings got better and better, words spelt right and the inner messages were longer all before they had stopped entirely.

In seemingly simple change for a shop bought card. See, the words were joined together nicely though the message was shorter and the lack of ten kisses in exchange for one suddenly made the card seem empty. “Why’d you stop?” You would ask one night as the pair of you lay together in the dark, your husband's place taken by your daughter near every night when he was away. “Making the cards.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think he cared.” 

When in reality, those cards were the only thing Simon looked forward to year round. And it wasn’t like he had outwardly expressed how much they meant to him, rather giving a weak smile and a soft kiss to her temple each time. But he kept them, every single one, every drawing was stored for safekeeping in a small box filled to the brim. Sketches that ranged from family drawings, to landscapes, animals and solo drawings of him if not herself.

Time ran from small limbs clambering over your own, six in the morning to reach Simon who had stirred when she fell onto his chest, a hand instinctively placed on the back of her head in his half-conscious state. “It’s your birthday!” She used to drag out with a laugh, sitting up on his stomach and holding the card mere centimeters from his face. 

To the last birthday, handing him the shop bought card in all teenage glory, too embarrassed to write ‘I love you’ so it came as a ‘Love you’ and the once overly done x’s and o’s were now a set of one. He didn’t know the first thing about teenagers either. How past a certain age everything felt detrimental and targeted, embarrassment seeped through everything and it wasn’t cool to like your dad anymore. 

Especially not as a teenage girl. 

And it wasn’t until he was away for his birthday for the first time in years that she had missed it. Missed the softening of his eyes and the way his arm would wrap around her shoulder and pull her to his side, hand rubbing her arm in acknowledgement of her efforts. 

She took his safety for granted most of the time. Waving to him at the door with no doubt that he would be back months later, a naturally blunt text that he was safe would be sent to you and all would be well. Though, sometimes he was required to hand his phone in before the tougher trips. Designed to provide the safest atmosphere, though back home many miles away it never did feel safer. And that was when she missed him the most. 

You always wanted what you couldn’t have.

Simon was no better. He had taken the younger years for granted. The tears before bed, stalking into his bedroom after a bad dream, tired eyes in the mornings and the excitement to see him once back home. He wasn’t to know when the last time he would pick up his daughter was, or the last time she would ask for help when reaching for a cereal box. Hell, even the final she had fallen asleep on his chest or asked him to stay until she had dozed off in her own ‘big’ bed. Small hands wrapping around his fingers, giggles and toothy grins had all evaporated into nothing. 

It was tough being a dad.

But it was hell being a teenage girl. 

Sometimes it felt ike you were made purely to drink iced coffee with alternative milk, wear baggy clothes and feel bad for old people every now and then. The act of growing up isn’t something you want, though something you concede to after realising you had wished your youth away. 

And in that, 

There was something about girls and their fathers. 

The constant need for subconscious approval and love, feeling bad for the man who raised you whenever he was left to eat dinner alone or scorned by your mother in a heated argument you couldn’t help to overhear. Simon’s daughter had always been in that predicament. 

She missed her dad when he left, yet hated when she shared the kitchen with him. It felt like an itch that you weren’t able to scratch, though his rare hugs completely killed all flame she had for him and sometimes, instead, they allowed for tears to flow. Because after all, a girl is really just her dad. 

Maybe that card should've been made after all. 

˗ˏˋ university is wiping me out already. it’s the first week back do you want to fucking calm down. been set two presentations (both recorded wtf) and three literature papers.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee

as always reblogs and comments are mighty appreciated blah blah blah

[lululandd]

corrupted;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: possessive behaviour, angst

note: :) (also on AO3)

summary: the first time he came home with his mask on, you didn’t let him in.

you weren’t even convinced it was simon at first. the man held himself too differently; he stood up too straight, his shoulders too square, there’s too much confidence in his stance as he stared you down.

the mask makes you feel uneasy, it makes it seem like he’s looking down at you with perpetual hostility in his eyes. normally you’d look up, but right now you opt to just glance up at him from time to time. but you do see from the corner of your eyes that he tilts his head at you, his gloved fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the door jamb. 

“it’s me, love.” he assured you in his gruff and gravelly voice, recognising it as the one he reserves for drunks at the pub.

“can you take the mask off then? please?”

he sucked a breath, both his hands now have come up on either side of the door. “just want to shower and go the fuck to bed, love. don’t be difficult.”

you stood your ground, eyeing him coldly. “and how difficult would it be to take the mask off before coming inside?”

his dark eyes bore into yours, brows drawing close together. “christ fuck, woman.” he finally says, bitterness bleeds through his muffled voice as he yanks the thing off his head, “happy?”

no.

finally seeing him, you notice the deepening lines on the corner of his eyes, and the bags underneath it worse than ever before. his lips twitch as if to say something as you open the door wider for him to finally pass you.

simon trudged his boots off by the shoerack before heading upstairs, you hear your shared bathroom door slamming shut as you still stood by the front door. you almost wanted to cry, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. you know simon’s job tires him out, he’s quieter and more reserved the first few days back; but today he gives you no hellos, no instructions to make tea, no offhand comment about the squeaking door that he complains about.

only silence greets you.

~

“come here.”

you barely turn from your little console, “no you come here.” giggling as you tried to find a safe spot so you could look at him and away from the game.

the bed dips heavily, you were tugged towards a warm chest as an arm snakes tightly around your waist and another slides up your collarbone, his finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the side of your neck. he leaned his head on yours, pulling you flush against him; your back bumped against his solid chest as he leaves soft kisses on the top of your head.

it’s weirdly….foreign.

simon’s love language had always been physical touch; whether it’s a hand on your shoulder, his feet next to yours, knees touching on a hot day, but at this exact moment you can’t fathom why his touches felt so unfamiliar.

his kisses move downward, more insistent, lips lingering longer than it should. intoxicating but peculiar at the same time. 

“stop playing.” he warned, his hand getting worryingly close to squeezing your neck.

his hold had never felt so constricting, as if he fears you’d disappear if he loosens his grip on you. his mouth had found its way to your neck, sucking and biting until he’s had enough and places a large hand on the screen, forcing you to set the thing down.

“i said stop.” he ordered, voice worryingly close to a growl.

leaning further into him, he tightened his embrace on you. seeing you’re no longer distracted, he went back to marking your neck, lapping at the bruising skin. 

you sighed into his touches and kisses, fully surrendering in his hold. as he turned your head with a hand on your jaw, you could now see every scar, every freckle, every little imperfection on his face, and it was harder to form thoughts when he’s so close like this. “sim–”

his lips press into yours; harsh and domineering, as he pushed you into the mattress, making you gasp. taking your open mouth as an invitation, his tongue greedily swipes across yours.

the kiss ended as quickly as it started, with simon pulling back and opting to have a go at leaving marks on your neck again. he left a particularly hard suck by your pulse point, making you let out a nervous giggle, “stop, simon. i don’t think i have turtlenecks that high.”

“then let them see.” he breathed hotly against another part of your neck he hasn’t left kisses on. it made you shudder, no one had ever made you feel so desired before.

wrapping your arms around him, you smiled weakly, “i love you, simon. you don’t have to worry about other people.”

hearing you say that made him finally pause his persistent abuse on your skin.

“say it again.” 

you couldn’t even look into his eyes, your cheeks burn from the constant attention he’s giving you right now. but even that couldn’t dissuade the little voice in your head that's trying to tell you this isn't right, this doesn’t feel like him; but you said it aloud anyway, “i love you.”

“again,” he breathed, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, “i want to hear you mean it.”

“i love you, simon.”

you could feel his smirk as he peppered kisses on your skin.

~

“simon you can’t be serious.” you chided him coldly, he has been wearing a face mask at home more often now. this time for a whole week straight. neither of you are even ill.

you could see something ominous and unpleasant underneath his glare as he turned his head towards you. “let me be, love.” he doesn’t even call you by your name anymore, as if he had completely forgotten what it is.

you groaned, “ugh, fine.” 

cutting the distance between you in record time, simon seized your wrist and held it up by his face, making you tumble into him. “what–”

“i love you.” he stated.

at this exact moment you thought him insane. you looked up at him, confusion and exasperation clear on your face.

“i'm sorry?” was the only thing you could think to say right now.

never have you thought simon was intimidating until this very moment. his eyebrows furrowed so deeply it made his pupils seem darker than it should. “say it back.”

you have no intention of saying it back.

his grip on your wrist had start to hurt at this point, and trying to wriggle away only made him hold it even tighter. the little yelp of pain you let out didn’t faze him even the slightest.

you only now realised this is not simon. in your mild attempt to break free from his grip you couldn’t help but to acknowledge his growing desire that’s been insistently prodding your front.

alarmed, you couldn’t help but to try and wriggle away harder. his insistent hand on the small of your back doesn’t help with the situation, either.

when he finally lets go of your wrist, opting to hold the back of your neck to hold you closer to him, you had already given up resisting. 

at that moment you felt as if you’re something of him to merely possess, and nothing else. tears escaped you, at first a little before cascading fully into sobs and whimpers. you don’t feel the love and warmth simon had, right now his grasp felt stiff and constricting.

“you’re not him, are you?” you hiccuped into his chest.

hearing no answer, you look up to see a man you loved, with a dangerous glint you don’t recognise in his eyes.

“no, you're not,” you answered your own question and his hold breaks. you let out a shuddered breath as you stare blankly at nothing, tears blurring your vision. “is he still in there?”

only silence answers.

[tacticaldiary]

Call Of Duty Masterlist

Last Updated: 10/12/2023

Requests: OPEN

Current Works: 29

This is the masterlist for all my Call Of Duty work! Make sure to check back frequently for updates and feel free to send in your requests!

⭐ - Fan Favourite!

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Jealousy, Jealousy

Anyone But Her ⭐

It Was Never Meant To Hurt

Painless Bruises ⭐

Captured In Tandem , Recovery In Tandem⭐

Forget Me Not

Bone Tired

Night Terrors

A Cracked And Fissured Door ⭐

To Hate A Heart That Beats For You

Where One Goes, The Other Follows

It All Comes Crashing Down ⭐

Solace For The Rough Nights

To Coax The Love From A Ghost

Meant To Be a Ghost, Not a Shadow

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

I Swear I Asked For Two

The Price Of A Secret , 

A Fighting Chance,  Frayed Stitches Don’t Hold (Pt 2)  ⭐

Till Death Do Us Apart

Frightened Of The Fall

Cut From The Same Cloth

John Price

Sacrifices

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Taken

Gentle Hands

A Still Beating Heart

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Welcome Home, Love

[letaliabane]

TIMEZONE REBLOG!

The Second Footman - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader

The downstairs of Downton Abbey had been filled with an air of awkwardness and continual gossip since the swift introduction of the new valet Mr Riley.

The maids fawned over his air of mystery, while many of the footmen looked at him in disgust and jealousy, muttering he only got the job for being old comrades with his lordship.

You, on the other hand, kept your thoughts to yourself. Perhaps it was the trust of comrades that made Mr Riley perfect for the role. Perhaps the great Earl didn't care about appearances and had empathy for the man. Either way, there had to be a good reason to hire him.

The day moved quickly, transitioning into the evening in full swing. After finishing your duties, you found yourself in the servant's hall, fixing up a loose thread on one of Lady Sybil's old dresses.

'Finally, dinner is served, can take a moment to breathe!' The kitchen maid, Daisy groaned as she stretched. She was the youngest of the staff, a bit naive, but had potential.

'You've been working hard Daisy, hopefully you can put your feet up later,' You said with a smile as the young girl leant in the doorway.

You saw her eyes squint before clearing her throat. 'Mr Riley, what was being in the army like? Did you enjoy it?'

Looking to your right you were shocked to see said man sitting beside you flipping through a tattered journal. When he got there you do not know.

'Grim,' He muttered, muffled through the metal mask, 'Anybody who enjoys something like being apart of war is questionable. But there are some good memories to come from it.'

'I'm sure there are,' You said quietly. He glanced towards you before looking away with a nod.

'Clear the table now Daisy! Servants dinner will be served in twenty minutes!' They heard a loud shout from the kitchens. Mrs Patmore never rests.

Daisy quickly moved towards the table to clear up. 'Mr Riley could you please hand me that tray there?'

The man quickly stood to help, shakily grabbing the tray from where it hung over the table, only for the cutlery that sat atop to go flying, clanging across the floor.

'Dammit!' Mr Riley cursed under his breath.

Putting your sewing to the side you quickly got to your feet, pressing a hand to his arm. 'It's alright, I can help!'

You heard him grumble as you got to your knees picking up the silverware that had fallen. Putting it back on the tray you handed it over to Daisy, you realised Mr Riley had pushed past Gwen who had stood at the door, a vague smirk on her lips before disappearing out of sight.

It wasn't too long before you were called to clear away the dining room upstairs with some of the other maids and footmen. You piled some used plates and cutlery onto a tray and moved towards the pantry, only to stop at the site of first footman Phillip Graves and Gwen.

Graves was an unkind man, constantly looking to gain more in his life at the expense of others. The maids of course took to him at first because of his decent looks but quickly dismissed it for his unkind nature.

Stopping behind the corner, you couldn't help but listen in.

'Her ladyship told his lordship that Mr Riley ought to go,' Gwen said to Graves as he set aside what he was holding, 'She said to me that 'if only his lordship had been content with Phillip he's more appropriate.''

You shook your head to yourself, frowning. Graves and Gwen had always had each other's backs to the point of sabotaging other hard workers within the house.

With a sigh, you moved towards the pantry, the two looking up at the sound of your arrival and moving apart.

'Why are you up here Gwen? Her ladyship won't need you until later this evening.' You asked as you pushed past them both.

The older woman scoffed. 'It's a free country ain't it?'

'And you two decided the pantry would be the best place for your plotting?'

'What's it to you Y/N?' Graves turned towards you. 'You've suddenly swallowed some confidence. Wonder why?'

'Is that the question of the day? Thought you'd have better things to think about Graves. Anyway I'm going down, I'll leave you two to your scheming.

With drinks poured in the drawing room for the family, you found a moment of reprieve outside in the garden, sitting on a bench below the large oak tree that sat not too far from the back entrance.

Looking up at the sky you couldn't help but let your mind drift to the second footman.

John McTavish, or Johnny when Mr Garrick wasn't around. A Scottish fellow that had already been working for Lord Price when you first arrived. Apparently he also had worked alongside his lordship during the war.

Ruggedly handsome, charming and constantly flirting with the maids who giggled and were flustered by him. He never did that with you though, not after you whacked him over the head with a newspaper. But he was very fond and took care of you ever since you first arrived.

He had been away visiting his mother in Scotland who had fallen ill. Surprisingly the Abbey felt strange without him around.

You sighed, looking up into the night, stars twinkling against the cloudless sky. It was so peaceful in the silence away from the hustle and bustle of the house.

'You alright?'

A sharp gasp left you, gripping your chest as you looked around. In a shadowed corner of the garden near the gate, she saw the embers of a cigarette, barely brightening the person's face.

'Is that you Mr Riley?'

A grunt was returned in reply. 'I didn't mean to frighten you, Miss.'

She quickly turned her head away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, guessing his mask was removed.

'Its okay I just-I thought I was alone. An-And it's Y/N Mr Riley. No formality for a housemaid like me.'

Silence followed your words. He wasn't much of a talker not like other men. But where awkwardness was often found, there was a certain warmth, a safety you felt within his presence.

'I wanted to thank you for your help,' Mr Riley said, a brief pause before he spoke once more, 'I have some shakiness in my hands since the war ... Some days worse than others.'

You couldn't help but feel touched. He didn't need to explain himself to you, nor anyone else.

'Don't worry Mr Riley please, I'm happy to have helped-'

'Lass? That you out back?'

Another familiar voice cut through the night, this time from the other side of the fence. Quickly, you got to your feet, peeking over the top of the gate to see a familiar face.

Opening the gate with a smile, you were suddenly lifted off your feet, giggling as Johnny swung you around with a chuckle.

'What on earth are you doing here Johnny? When did you get back?' You asked when he placed you back down on your feet, taking him in.

His usually short brown hair had grown in the few weeks he had left, face was clean shaven, and though there were shadows under his eyes, he looked his usual happy self.

'Got back just a few hours ago! There were no more taxis at the station so I decided to walk it.'

'Goodness, you must be exhausted! Well, you got back just in time for dinner!'

When you looked back up after taking him in, you saw his gaze was focused past you, an expression of shock on his face.

'Well beat me over dead, that you Lieutenant Riley?'

You turned to see Mr Riley walk out of the shadows, mask now placed back on, cigarette squashed beneath his boot.

'It's been a very long time Sergeant.'

Johnny rushed past you, embracing him. Mr Riley was momentarily shocked, but soon returned the friendly embrace. You couldn't help but look away as if encroaching on such a reunion.

'Had no idea you were gonna be the new valet! Would'a changed my plans to see the look on everyone's faces!' He chortled as he pulled away from Mr Riley.

Johnny turned back to you. 'Apologies lass. Haven't seen 'im since our days in the army!'

You smiled, looking between the two. 'Not at all, please. I'll give you some time to yourselves. Remember dinner will be served soon.'

Beginning to make your way into the house once more, you failed to notice Mr Riley's gaze never falter from you until you disappeared out of sight.

Call of Duty Masterlist Thankfully didn't write this at 2 am again If you have any asks or thoughts about this send them through!

[forsworned]

Thinking about Simon having a tattoo on his left lower hip when you two start drunkenly making out on your bunk. He's lifting his shirt above his head and you're shimmying out of your skirt. You're happily getting on your knees to unbuckle his jeans, sliding off his briefs as well.

The green little ink catches your eye and you pause for a moment to inspect it. "Is that a tattoo?"

He's leaning back on his elbows, dark brown eyes fixating on your sexy topless figure. "What of it?"

You scoff. "Four-leafed clover, eh?"

"Yeah," He takes a swig of the water bottle that sits on your nightstand. "'means you're lucky to even get this far."

You scoff again as he chuckles, but it's cut off by the pleasuring feeling of your tongue swiping across the inked skin. He shudders as you swirls over it, sucking his hip bone, and his fingers thread though your hair.

But you pull away too quick for his liking. "Lil minx." He mutters as he watches you get up from the ground.

You giggle at his flushed cheeks, but it ends with you squealing as he pulls you on top of him, giving your ass a little squeeze. "You won't get away with teasin' me like tha'"

[ragingbookdragon]

Simon’s about ten feet from his front door when he decides he doesn’t want to walk anymore. He’s half tempted to lay down on the floor, call his girlfriend, and see if she can’t pull him into their flat. He decides to walk the rest of the way and leans against the door, face first into the cool metal as he fumbles the keys into the lock, not bothering to look for the keyhole. It takes all of five minutes before he manages to get the key in and unlock the door. And when he does, he slips inside, closes the door behind him, drops his bags in the hallway, yanks off his mask, and drops to his knees to lay on the ground. He lets out a long groan as the muscles in his back and limbs relax, all the tension from the missions in the past months fades.

Footsteps sound through the flat, the echo of his love’s voice calling for him through the rooms and into the hall. He doesn’t look up, only opens his eyes to see her face in front of his; she’s wearing one of her face masks, the gooey gold eye masks, and a cherry red lip mask beneath. It makes him want to laugh and he snorts, low in his chest as her nose scrunches up.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chastises. “I’m doing all this so I could look pretty for you when you got home.”

Simon reaches out and touches her head, fingers brushing gently in her hair; she smells so comforting, like vanilla and orange blossoms, like her shampoo, like home. He’s suddenly falling in love with her all over again as he murmurs, “You look beautiful to me all the time, love.”

Her eyes light up and it makes his heart swell, peace washing over him. “I made chicken and rice. It’s in the oven.”

“With the cream of mushroom?”

“With the cream of mushroom,” she smiles. “And I added an extra can of cream of chicken so it’d be really good for you. And I deep-cleaned the apartment. So it’s clean for you. I also bought you a new leather jacket and boots, so we gotta hit a pub sometime soon so I can show you off to all my ladies.”

He melts further onto the floor, wondering how a man like him has been given a woman like her; she is his salvation amongst all his damnation. “I love you,” he says, quietly, wholeheartedly, and Simon Riley has never felt more human than ever in his life. When he’s here, he forgets about Ghost, forgets about everything that’s brought his life to its knees. He’s Simon, he’s whole, he is loved here.

Her hand moves to brush along his cheek, his nose, his brows, and she smiles at him. “I love you, Simon.”

[alwaysshallow]

simon might appear cold, when you two are dating.

mechanical, almost. not able of human feelings, maybe too harsh for your liking. not really saying the l-word (yet, right? you think that will take him time, even if it's almost six months of you dating, you do not lose hope). your friends don't really like him either, he's weird and has jokes that no one understands. he's not really engaging with anything that has to do with them.

sometimes, it would be easier to just break up with him than hear the silence on his side, when you two are fighting. stone cold silence, like you weren't just saying that he's the worst because he seems like he doesn't care anymore.

but i assure you, he knows what he wants since he laid his eyes on you.

you don't know this, but he bought a ring after two days into dating. is that because he's romantic? not really, it's more like a possession type of thing. he knows you're the one, why would he play games? you're his, he's yours, a loyal dog that stands by your side till the end of the line. nothing more, nothing less.

one day, you wake up with a ring on your finger. no proposing whatsoever, just a fact that you're his fiancee now, and a small gift by your night stand that has you bawling.

he doesn't even say anything about it, he just gruffs that you need to be quiet and his arms tighten around your middle more.

he cares, but not in the typical way.

the only thing that could be romantic is the wedding that you can organise from scratch, but it's a whole ass different conversation.

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley has a crush on you

masterlist | subtle things he does for you | simon my love

simon’s feelings hit him like a truck, as if he's a deer caught in the headlights. he only comes to realize it in the heat of the battle, chests heaving up and down as the two of you hide behind a wall for cover. you tell him to reload first and it's something so insignificant, so minute and yet it pieces things together for him. so he does what his first best. swallow the lump in his neck, ignore the swelling of his heart and focus on what’s next.

except

he sucks at it and boy is it evident.

it is so subtle though, subtle enough for it to slip under everyone’s radars including yours. except, captain price is no fool. he's known simon long enough to see the little change in his demeanor when you enter the room. how simon immediately sits up right, in his best posture, giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment.

how simon always looks your way, always. even when you’re not looking, he’ll still check what you're doing, where you are. it’s not intended to be creepy, it's just a form of reassurance that you’re alive, that you’re okay, that he has another chance to confess. (also the type to lean against the door frame and observe you)

what’s shocking is that even during his infamous cigarette breaks, he chooses to hang out with you. he adores the fact that it’s comfortable silence between the two of you. and more importantly, it contains the two best things he needs, silence and you. “what a view” he thinks to himself.

moreso, the lieutenant’s eye for detail is insane. simon is incredibly nuanced, he can notice when your mood is off, when you’re hurt, irritated or whatsoever. he tries to deal with the issue silently, like handing you a bottle of water, leaving a seat for you beside him, ensuring that he does most of the paper work and so on.

simon reacts at the speed of lightning if he notices you’re hurt or in range of fire. he remembers the one time he ran, grabbing you by the waist to make sure you don’t get shot. your small frame clinging against his, your body weight almost nothing to him and he felt lightheaded. he desperately wanted to keep you in his arms but he settles for asking, “you holdin’ up fine?” as he lets you out of his grip.

he enjoys bantering with you so much. such snide and snarky remarks all the time. from “what? can’t handle a little teasing from your superiors?” to “you know it's bad manners cussing behind your lieutenant’s back,” to “thought you were tough?” to “all that back talk, why don't you come and prove it?” he absolutely loves the reactions you give him.

moreso, when he begins getting more and more comfortable, he invites you eat lunch with him as opposed to with the rest of the soldiers. adores the fact that you both can converse without having eyes on the two of you. “plans for lunch?”

oh and of course, the most difficult moment of his life, when you reached forward on your tippy toes to fix his balaclava, simon thought he’d have a heart attack. took all of his strength to not lean forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “looking alright now?” he jokes, you can almost hear his smirk.

he hates the vulnerability, he does. but what he doesn't hate is the fact that it's you. it's you he’s being vulnerable with. and he repeats it to himself every night that you’re the best choice anyway.

[writingfromasgard]

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley finishes his latest tattoo and his kid's all over it - loves it, says its beautiful and they're gonna draw something one day so he can tattoo it on him.

Then they innocently ask, "Can I color in the next one?"

Simon's staring down at the little tike when he goes, "yeah, you can."

three months later, he's got a few tattoos on his legs that are just lines, no shading, no color. When they heal, he tells them they can use the washable markers he bought them to color the tattoo in.