yourstrulyrani

[yourstrulyrani]

woah it's the same anon from the knight!reader and prince!simon hc!!!

ive had this idea for a while now, but i never really got around to writing it.

what if reader and simon were deployed to a mission to kill the son of a terrorist or something

so they assume that the son is an adult at least, right?

wrong! it turns out, while they were waiting to snipe him at the plane he was getting off of, it was actually a child they had to kill.

i didnt really think up an ending for this, so you can go crazy w it!

love your writing by the way.

much love,

-🌊

simon riley x soldier!reader cw: mentions of blood & violence (military inaccuracies too) // wc: 1680 a/n: omg hi i love this idea so much, and thank you for the last bit, it means a lot to know that people like you love my writing 🥲♥︎!! can i apologize for how long this took for me to write too, i truly am so sorry. i want to thank you all for 600 followers (you guys are insane i adore you every one of you) so i decided that i should spoil yall on this gorgeous fridayyy

“So you’re telling me the job isn’t done yet?” Ghost turns his head to the TV hung on the wall, glaring daggers at the projected image of Makarov’s face.

You’re alone with Lieutenant Riley himself in a debriefing room, going over the next mission. “No, LT.” You sigh as you slide your lieutenant a manilla folder across the desk. You pace back and forth in front of the large screen, hands tucked behind you. “During the last mission, Gaz and Price have found out that not only was Milena Romanova his financier, but long-time lover. They happen to have had a lovechild: Mikhail Makarov.” You press the button to the next slide, showing a blank profile picture. “We currently have limited information on Mikhail, so we don’t have a picture of him. Age is inconclusive but it is likely that he is in his late teens and that he works as a Konni Group affiliate. 

“Of course he does, Sergeant. His father was their bloody leader.” You press the button to the next slide, showing an island from a bird’s eye view. “We currently believe that Mikhail is currently residing with Milena on Plutus Island, the same private island that you and Soa—” your throat tightens up as you were about to  mention his name. 

It stings. You feel like a replacement to a priceless man.

“You and Johnny,” you continue, “had to go back in 2023 to gather Makarov’s banking information. If I can contact Laswell, I can set up something so you can go there again.”

Ghost finally grabs the file, scrolling through each page. Once finished, he tosses the file onto the conference table and settles back, crossing his arms in front of his chest and then his legs in a figure-four. “Only me?” You could see his eyes squint behind the mask in confusion.

“You’re capable enough to go in alone, sir. It’s a simple ‘neutralize the targets’ type of mission.”

“But it wouldn’t hurt to have you come with me.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You try to read the skull-faced man’s mask and eyes for any emotion, but it’s always hard with him. That mask conceals his exterior as much as it does the inside of him. You know Ghost has a personality, from his dad jokes while on missions and his clinical precision, but you always wondered when he would peel the mask off and just one day, for one moment, be Simon.

After weeks of preparation, Laswell gave you and Ghost the green light. Neutralize both Romanova and her son. It was a simple mission that both you and Ghost were both prepared for. Ghost convinced himself the only reason he asked you to come with him was so it would be easier sniping them at the same time. Or it may be because you’re a good sergeant. He hates to admit it. He wouldn’t mind Johnny back. But he thinks to himself  a lot that you’re not so bad either. You never were.

“No Konni Group in sight, huh?” Ghost lays himself down on the concrete. The island for once was empty.

“Clearly not, Bravo 0-7.” Laswell says through the comms. “As soon as you see Romanova or Mikhail, take the shots.”

A car entered the lavish driveway of the island’s residence. Luckily, Ghost and you had a clear view of the car where the driver was. It took a couple of moments before both you and Simon noticed a woman walk out of the driver’s seat of a blacked out Mercedes Maybach SUV.

“Milena Romanova is here.” Ghost says to you and Laswell. You could see through the sniper that she was dressed down in a long-sleeved black a-line dress with matching sunglasses and pumps. Her hair was enough to know that the woman you were seeing was Milena herself, as she still kept the same hairstyle that the task force saw her in the last time they visited this island.

“As soon as you see Mikhael, drop them both. Sergeant, take Milena. Ghost, you take Mikhail.” Laswell directed.

A young man dressed head to toe in Konni Group attire exited out of the passenger side door, and it could only be one person: Mikhail Makarov.

You and Ghost didn’t waste a moment to do what Laswell asked. With one quick pull of the trigger you took the shot for Milena, and Ghost for Mikhail. You saw Milena’s body abruptly fall lifeless to the floor after you heard the crack of your weapon. The hair that was once styled perfectly now splayed across the road and had blood soaking through it which seeped out of her locks and crept into the crevices of the cobblestone. Mikhail dropped down to the ground a split second later, his body falling on to his mother.

Ghost thought his ears were deceiving himself until he heard a screeching cry. He thought it was the birds in the area, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. He used his scope to get a closer look. Right behind the driver’s door, the passenger door, was a baby in a car seat. The same brown hair as Milena and the same hooded eyes as his dead dad. The man’s eyes widened in horror. The baby’s carseat was splattered in blood and his once white onesie was the same. You turned to look at Simon, and for the first time you saw his eyes widen in pure guilt. The man that Ghost shot wasn’t Mikhail, but the baby splattered with blood around him was. Ghost felt his hand twitch, making him drop the sniper in his hands as he left you on the building. 

Your eyes were fixed on the Lieutenant’s retreating form, but your ears were fixed on the baby’s ringing cries. It was a vulnerable and helpless little human, who now has no parents. You feel the shame pool in your stomach and come out by making your hand sweat and your heart quicken. Milena was a woman who did many wrong things, but that baby was innocent, and you murdered his mother as if she was worth nothing to him. Your misstep caused this.

You took your sniper along with the one Ghost left behind and rushed towards him, your boots hard on the concrete roof. 

Ghost muttered to himself, his voice low in self-deprecation and not enough for you to hear. “Almost murdered a child.”

You stalk behind the soldier, analyzing his hands by his side, and his feet dragging against the dirt. His head was dipped on, so all you could see was the lower end of his mask. You were conflicted whether or not to jog a little closer so you could approach him or give the space he needed. You dismissed the latter option, instead stalking closer to him.

“Sir.” You tried jogging closer, but one step of this man’s leg was the same as you taking several steps. “Ghost.” You try calling out again and this time he stops walking, but doesn’t turn around. You finally reach his side and tilt your head up to look at the man. “About back there—” “Not a word.” He turns to face your body and looks down. You both look eye to eye. Ghost could see the hesitancy in your eyes and you could see the guilt seethe in his. “Call in Price. Take the baby to a nearby village or city and put him up for adoption. That’s the end of it. We killed Milena. We killed a Konni contractor.”

“But we didn’t kill Mikhail. That baby was Mikhail.” “That baby is innocent.” He stomped closer to you, which caused a strain in the back of your neck. You lowered your neck to find some sort of ease, and all you could see with this line of vision was his chest heaving up and down. “Call in Price.” He sighed. “Please.”

His plea came out into a small whimper and you couldn't help but to oblige with a nod of your head and a “Yes sir.”

The both of you were transported back to base and this time, you couldn’t relish in the usual silence. Everyone was typically tired after missions, only sparing a couple of words during the exfil which none of you in the 141 would ever mind. But this time, the silence is suffocating with the shared guilt between you two instead of a silence that should be graced with solace after a rough mission.

You sat across Ghost, his hands resting in his lap and his head down. The window from the helicopter radiated at the perfect angle so you could see the brown of his eyes. You always thought of Ghost as a fixed individual. You could tell that his efforts as a soldier paid off. Ghost took off his gloves, setting them to the side. You stared at his hands, and saw a fine strip of his tattoo sleeve peeking out of his left sleeve. Ghost grumbled, keeping his head down only moving his eyes upwards to look past his eyelashes. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Ghost speaks up, his voice hushed in shame. Ghost moves to fiddle with his fingers, an explicit sign of his nervousness. He didn’t understand why he’s starting to open up at this moment, but he’s glad he’s doing it with a woman like you. 

“It was a baby. That’s okay.” You shake your head gently in a dismissal of his shame. “You have a heart, Simon. That proved it.”

Simon felt his hands twitch at the use of his real name, the first time you ever used it, “A cold one.” He retorts and chuckles lightly, a selfish attempt to lighten up the situation he was in.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” Your voice was filled with genuine honesty and your eyes showed the pride you held for your superior. 

“That means a lot coming from you, Sarge.” Ghost may be a clinical soldier with ruthless technique, but today you understood that under the army gear, the weaponry, and the skull-face mask, there’s Simon.

^ mind u this is when i started writing this bro like LMAO WHY DID I STALL SO LONG

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

btw the "spread the message" anon ask you got is spam; they're funneling money and shit; everyone gets the copy and paste shit don't feel obligated to give them attention

omg what i thought they were genuinely in need and in palestine :( i’ve deleted the reblog for now but can someone else tell me if that these accounts being spam is true? thanks a lot 🥲👍🏼

[yourstrulyrani]

i saw a really hot cop today who had a tattoo sleeve and i couldn't help but to think about ex-military commander graves who becomes a cop after retirement and gets one of his arms fully tatted

[yourstrulyrani]

haii! would you be open to writing more of biker!simon? i absolutely love the au but almost all of the writing i can find for it is nsfw ໒ ◞ ‸ ◟ ১

omg hii, of course i'm open!! i'm more than down to write more of biker!simon, especially since the weather is getting warmer & i'm seeing more bikers on the road. & i get it about a lot of works being nsfw, so i'll make sure my next work about him is more modest ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

Omgg imagine a reader who is obsessed with simons arms. Like veins and biceps and everything. I feel like he would try to be humble but loves teasing her with flexing them

husband!simon x wife!reader ~ you love simon's biceps, and simon loves the way you love them. a/n: as someone who has an unhealthy obsession with biceps this is so me HAHA (also to 🌊, i saw ur request too and am working on it!! ♥︎)

You are obsessed with Simon's body.

Being in the army, you know your husband's body is built for it. You were astonished at how much muscle he gained over the time you've been with him. Currently, he stands at 6'4 and weighs in at a mean 250 pounds. He trains well and you make sure you feed him even better whenever he gets off deployment because you know he has a habit of missing meals when he's away for work. His legs are strong, every muscle prominent and his thighs are thick. His torso is so wide it covers you up whenever he's lying on top of you or hugging you. You make sure to compliment his body whenever you can. You love complimenting your man just as much as he loves to act humble about his build.

Sometimes it's like...

"Simon, you're so huge. I love it." You say as you massage your husband's sore shoulders, straddling the back of his legs while he lies on his stomach on the couch. "It's nothing, lovie. Just comes with the job." He dismisses your praise, but hides his blush by looking away from you and hiding his face into the crease of his inner elbow.

Or sometimes it's...

"Baby, did you get more buff over deployment?" Your hands move up and down his torso, and you can most definitely feel the change in the definition of his abs because you can feel them through his shirt. "I guess so, doll?" He gives you a shy smile, "It's nothing, though, really. Probably some extra muscle because of the missions." He takes the hands that were roaming around his torso and places them up to his lips, kissing your wrists. "I missed you, sweet girl."

Albeit, your most favorite part about your man is his arms.

Specifically his biceps. You catch yourself staring at the way his veins start from his hands and end up at his biceps. When he's away for deployment, you manage doing the heavy lifting like moving the coffee table while cleaning or carrying multiple grocery bags in each hand. But when Simon is off deployment, you make sure to put those arms to use every single time you can. Simon doesn't mind either. If anything, he loves it and wants to be of help for you. He vacuums with one hand and lifts the coffee table with the other, he takes in all the grocery bags in one trip, and chops the wood for the fireplace without you ever asking to do it.

Simon caught on very early in your relationship that you had some sort of obsession with his arms, and he makes sure to act upon it. He may act all humble, but he loves the way you vocalize your love for his body and the way you look at him too. He loves to use his arms whenever he can, always looking for an opportunity to show himself off to his sweetheart of a wife.

One day, you ordered two bags of soil for your garden. Before you could carry them inside, Simon stopped you at the doorway, "I got you, lovie." He rolled up the sleeves to his already short-sleeved shirt, pushing them up to his shoulders. He took one bag in each of his arms. All you could do in the moment was stare at the way his arms flexed dangerously. Even with one of his arms tattooed fully, you could still see the curve of his bicep and the veins that adorned it. You were caught out of your daze when you heard him ask sweetly, "Do you want these in the backyard?" You nodded with your mouth open, still focusing on the bulge of his arms. Before heading over to the backyard, he passes you a cheeky wink. He knows as much as you do how good his biceps look, and he loves you for it. "You know, if you take a picture it'll last longer."

He walks over to you, bags still in his hold, and places a kiss to your lips before heading over to the backyard.

Tease.

The next day, when you ask him to grab your phone, he checks out your change of wallpaper: Asleep on the couch shirtless is Simon lying on his back, tattooed bicep and gorgeous torso visible in the frame with your cat on his lap.*

*i specifically thought of this gorgeous drawing by @bitterrfruit for reference. if you're seeing this arabella, i love your writing and art you are so, in the best way possible, disgustingly talented.

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

mechanic!simon riley headcanons mdni under the cut a/n: yall loved my last hc on this (thank you SO MUCH BTW) so here 🤍

mechanic!simon riley who wipes the sweat off his face by taking his palms under the hem of his shirt to drag it over his face so he can show you his gorgeous torso (you swear this man was sculpted the way his abs glisten with sweat and his v-line and happy trail compliment his body perfectly)

mechanic!simon riley who compliments the sundress you wore to the shop the second time you came around to the shop. "nice sundress on. it really suits you, love." the first time you came to him, you threw on whatever you had in your closet. but this time it was different. you put your favorite sundress on, put a little more effort your hair and makeup today, and wore your favorite heels.. all of it just for simon the mechanic.

mechanic!simon riley who loves the dress so much on you, he imagines how good you would look without it. he imagines bending you over the hood of your car, hiking that dress up, and taking his way with you in whatever way you'd let him.

mechanic!simon riley who notices that you're looming over him while he's working on your undercarriage. he's on the floor and you're standing right above him, which gives him a clear view under your sundress. because of this, he realizes that under the dress, you have no panties on.

mechanic!simon riley who feels himself grow hard. he curses at the way his pants grew tighter, causing great discomfort. his breathing grew heavier the more he thinks back to what he saw moments ago. your perfect thighs, smooth and soft and so worthy of marking. and what laid right in between between them was even better: so worthy and already so soaked. he knows you did this on purpose. he knows you came this time all dolled-up just so he could notice. and he did. and he wanted to take action

mechanic!simon riley who what he imagined doing: he did. he quickly got off the floor to grab you by the wrists, pinning them behind your back. he hiked your sundress up and bent you over your car. simon made sure that you screamed, moaned, whimpered, and groaned his name with your head against the hood. he pumps you slow and gentle at first, then heavy and rough, changing up the pace so he could tease you. he bends over to place his lips by your ear, and you could feel his chest pressed against your back. his cock settled deeper inside of you as he pants, "such a good girl, taking it all for me. you won't have to worry about paying for the repairs this time, yeah, love?"

mechanic!simon riley who makes sure you came before he did. he loved the way you moaned his name when you finally reached your high of pleasure. he relishes in the way you look after, especially. your hair was stuck to your forehead because of the sweat and you were blushing like crazy. he keeps his head by yours when he finally comes, his thick cock still inside of you. he kisses your temple gently, "so pretty for me, doll. you did so well. so so well."

happy one month to this blog btw!

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

omg knight!reader x prince!simon !?!?

His Highness

prince!simon riley x f!knight!reader wc: 1460 a/n: omg i love this idea anon?! i've been seeing art of knights and princesses everywhere so i am SO down to write this. i only write x f!reader, so this is kind of mulan-ish in a way. i hope you like it!

You had no choice. Your dad: too ill to fight. Your brother: long gone. You had dreams. Ambitions. Goals. All crushed when a letter was sent to the small cottage you lived in. A letter from the royal family, asking that a man "honor" your family's name for the kingdom. You scoffed when you read that letter a year ago. You barely had enough energy to live and here you were being expected to work for a country that wouldn't waste a second trying to fight for their people. That family wasn't even worth the honor they were asking for. You heard the rumors.

"He's a drunkard, the King. Can't even fight in his own battle even if you gave him proper whiskey as a reward." The man selling fruits said. 

"The Queen never shows her face to the public. She locks herself in that palace so she can drown herself in the jewels she so disgustingly possessed." The librarian ridiculed.

What you heard about their son was nothing better: His Royal Highness, Lieutenant Prince Simon Riley. Next in line for the throne in the Riley bloodline. Back then, you didn't have to see him or even be in his presence to realize just how disgusting of a man he was.

But here you are, guarding his life now. What a hypocrite you are.

'It's not like I had a choice', is something you say to yourself everyday in front of the mirror, right before you put on your armor. The armor was too broad for your shoulders and too long for your legs. The shoes were big enough, so it came to your advantage when you needed to stuff them so you could appear taller. Luckily, you were never expected to show your face, so you always opted to conceal it.

You were doing this because you had to, not because you wanted to.

A year has passed, everyday you continue the same routine. Your life doesn't revolve around the small cottage you once lived in and getting by with small rations of food anymore, but rather around an uncharismatic Lieutenant who lives in a palace just as big as his ego. He walks like he's the king already. His eyes were always glaring at someone and his lips were prepared to spit out harsh words at anyone. Especially you.

"What are your legs made of? Walk faster," The Prince spat at you. It was time for breakfast, marking the start of your time with His Highness.

As a woman, you had to deepen your voice during work so no one would suspect anything. Over the past year, your vocal cords have adapted to the strain, a rasp has now developed, luckily adding a gruff and masculine essence to your once feminine voice. "Your Highness, I have to be five pa—"

"Five paces behind." He interrupts you and that makes both of your hands form a fist. You could never punch His Highness, but you were sure as hell so close to doing it sometimes. His Highness speaks once again, "I'm not daft. I know the rules."

"So then why are you acting like you're daft then, you dolt?"

is what you really wanted to say. Instead you said nothing and nodded, doing what he told you to do. You walked the long hallway to the dining room, hearing your armor clank against the hardwood floor. You entered the vast dining room, the refectory table already covered in breakfast items. You never understood why royal families felt entitled to cover the table with so much food with every meal, only to eat one plate and throw the rest away. This whole table itself could feed a village in this kingdom for a whole month, and one day of food for the royal family could feed that same village for even more time. You position yourself behind His Highness on one side of the doorway while he takes a seat at the table, another knight guarding the other. 

It wasn't long until the King walked in, eyes squinted and bloodshot, hair disheveled, and walking unsteady. All you could see was the back of the Prince’s body, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed up in the presence of his own father. The father and son duo were not that close, you noticed during your time here. After all, who tolerated a father who was always drunk?

The Lieutenant Prince clears his throat, "Commander Graves had advanced forces into our—"

The sound of glass shattering followed his words, making you flinch in the slightest. You cocked your head to where the King was seated, an arm of his hung off the table. The once prepared food on the table was now on the ground along with the china it was plated on now shattered.

The King speaks now, his words slurred and lisped. "You are a Lieutenant," he chuckles sloppily, "and aren’t even acting like one.” The King stumbles over to his son, stepping on the mix of food and glass on the floor while doing so. You tensed up just as much as The Prince was now. You felt your hands grow clammy and your cheeks heat at the tension. You wondered what the King was going to do next. You always thought that the King and the Prince had a normal relationship before your life changed, but that expectation was long gone. You saw the broken bottles of alcohol across the palace all the time. You heard both of the men screaming their lungs off to each other too, so this encounter was nothing new.

♔

The Prince was ticked off the rest of the day thanks to his father. 

He kept ordering you to walk closer, to perform more mundane tasks than usual. You dusted the animal mounts on the walls, walked his German Shepherd, and now you’re in his study tidying up the place. Your arms ache trying to reach the top of the shelves, and you curse the man who started this Kingdom, who’s decisions led to this very moment where you had to clean the study of a prince who is too troubled with his own father. You have no idea at the moment where the Prince was, but you want to keep it that way, cleaning his study alone allows you to finally have some peace anyway. You move to The Prince’s desk, scattered in random files and fountain pens. Until one file caught your eye. It wasn’t beige like the others but a scarlet red. You thought about it. You’re alone. It’s right there. Would it really hurt to just open it up? 

So you did. Each paper of the file was a new operation plan for the army, but only the last page was labeled as “confirmed” and you could almost scoff. What you read was pathetic and it was signed off in red ink by none other than Lieutenant Prince Simon Riley. As this man’s knight you were fuming, you were about to fight for this and you were certain that it would result in failure. As a citizen of this kingdom, you were fearful that if it continues to run like this, it will turn into dust.

“What are you doing?” You jumped at the deep voice that rumbled behind you, quickly swapping the file in your hand for the duster to cover up what you were snooping on the moment before. You knew who was speaking before you turned your head to look.

“Dusting your desk, Your Highness.” You saw The Prince’s eyes squint at you as he adjusted the cuffs of his tunic. His appearance was more disheveled compared to when you last saw him, his brown hair stuck out in multiple directions. His eyes were a tear away from being bloodshot, and his lips were swollen and pink. You almost felt bad for the man until you remembered what you just read.

His Highness walks over to the desk, “Just dusting?” he probes. You wanted him to drop it, but you knew the Prince as a stubborn man. He snatched the red file from under you, scrolling the pages like you did moments before. You look at the royal as he scrolls with a straight face. “You read them.” Not a question, but a statement. He knew. 

Your mouth opened slightly and a nervous exhale left your lips. You knew better than to admit your wrongdoing, so you negated what he said. “Of course not, Your Highness. All I wa—”

“You read them. Don’t lie.” He repeats. His eyes peel off the files to look up at you. You saw the rage behind his eyes, the vulnerability, and the lack of loyalty that you have now created between yourselves.

(っ◔◡◔)っ 💌 thank you all for over 400 followers by the way, i adore all of you💌

[yourstrulyrani]

imma take a moment away from simon riley (as much as i love that british babe) and take a moment for....

CARLOSSSSSSS (in coryxkenshin's voice)

(i binge watched his gameplay for re3 back in like 2021 and i loved every second i highly recommend watching)

[yourstrulyrani]

mechanic!simon riley headcanons ~ part two

mechanic!simon riley who swore he fell in love with you the minute you walked in the shop, your eyes wide but your expression serious. his usual customers are on the older side and always men who are too insufficient to fix a car on their own, so you were the perfect change of pace.

mechanic!simon riley who knew as a woman you were highly likely to get ripped off by other mechanics, so he was glad you came to his shop. he makes sure to offer you water and some light snacks. he doesn't do that with his other customers, but you're an exception.

mechanic!simon riley who thought it was hot when you got straight to the point before he could even introduce himself. you already diagnosed your car before you came because like simon, you knew how you could get scammed in repair shops. you nodded when he asked if you knew a lot about cars and he replied with, "a woman after my own heart."

mechanic!simon riley who is already wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, but rolls up the sleeves to his shoulders so you could get a view of just how huge his biceps were. it doesn't help your temptation when you see that his tattoo sleeve in fact does continue up until his shoulder.

mechanic!simon riley who on purpose makes sure his t-shirt lifts a little bit higher than usual while he's working on your undercarriage. he's lying down under the car, and makes sure to extend his arms higher so he can tease the gorgeous combination that is his happy trail, abs, and v-line to you.

mechanic!simon riley who drains the oil in your car on purpose while he's working on it just enough so that you have to come back a second time and so that he has an excuse to see your gorgeous self again.

mechanic!simon riley who doesn't let you pay for any of the repairs you needed. he reasoned with you saying you had enough trouble driving the car to the shop as it was, and doesn't want to add on to it.

(idk)

[yourstrulyrani]

hii um actually ive never done this before and im kinda nervous but yeah.

uh so i know most drabbles/fanfics (esp with x reader) talk about simon riley being like "unworthy" of love or something and while i feel like that is true about his character it just gets repetitive sometimes so why not one where he just realizes that this is just what he needed, it's what was missing. not that he was unworthy or something, he just never pursued it.

okay!! thank you :3

a/n: omg hii please don’t be nervous!! you’re all good, i opened my requests up for a reason so please feel free! im guessing you read my last work & i honestly feel the same way. it does get repetitive but it is pretty fun to write/read about. i adore the angst. i love your idea and i feel simon (like anyone else) would love to his fullest once he realizes he's a little too single LMAO. i hope this is what you were looking for 🥲👍🏼

simon riley x medic!f!reader wc: 1460 .. part two

Ghost was drowning in missions. At the end of his deployment, he was exhausted. He walked onto base, eyes heavy with the need to sleep and muscles aching with the need of a hot shower to soothe them. He dropped his bag by the door of his dorm but was welcomed with the reminder to go to the medbay for a routine evaluation. He only had a few cuts and scratches so he was close to simply ditching, but a few minutes with the medic wouldn't hurt.

Ghost walked to the medical wing on base, his legs heavy to the point he stomped with each step. He entered the medical center, seeing you in the dim light writing the inventory of some medical supplies on a clipboard. He knocked on the door to make his present known, which he knew worked when you turned around.

"Oh. Hi, LT. Good..." You trailed off to look at the clock on the wall which had its minute hand a little past midnight, "morning?" You both were surprised that both of you were on base this late, but sometimes duty calls for it. As the team's medic, you sometimes use the late nights for medical reports. Ghost uses his late nights for mission reports and to sleep over on base when he's too tired to drive back home. Simon takes notice of your eyes, the light casting shadows just right to show how your eyelids slightly droop, most definitely from a lack of sleep.

Ghost sits on one of the vacant beds. "You're up late, Doc." Simon now internally cringes at the fact he's here so late. "I can leave. I just came over because of the—"

"Evaluations after every deployment. Yeah. No worries. You can stay, this won't take long." You take the current paper off the clipboard, walking over to your desk to replace it with a form to put in Ghost's file later. You have been here for some time, but Ghost's presence makes you shake in your own boots sometimes. You can't help it: A 6'4 man who's built like a tank who operates like one too? You once saw him at the fitness center bench pressing well over your weight, and you were wondering if you should clench your thighs closer together or be scared of the man. You decided on both.

You walk over to where Ghost is seated and analyze his physical appearance. With his mask still on and an army-green short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans on, you look for any injuries you can. Your eyes trail along his tattooed right arm, adorned with skulls, flames, and other drawings. His other arm is bare, instead marked with fresh scratches and cuts, most likely from the missions he was on during his recent deployment.

A few minutes pass and you continue with your checkup while writing on the clipboard. You found a gash on his upper bicep which you're now tending to, albeit with some struggle due to Simon's stubborn nature:

"Lift up your sleeve, please."

"But it's just a gash, doc."

"A gash that, forbid, gets bacteria in it and gets infected. Then I'll be the one amputating that same arm. It's called necrotizing fasciitis."

"Why would they invent something like a bloody fascist infection?"

You giggle while cleaning up his wound at the encounter a few minutes ago, unaware that it may seem weird that you're laughing out of the blue. Ghost notices, "What's so funny?" You can see his eyes squint under the balaclava, the only piece of facial expression you'll ever have from him.

"You called a medical term fascist, sir."

He grunted. "Sounded like it." You noticed how his accent elongated the word "like" and you thought it was hot.

Gosh, get a grip.

You grab the dressing, Simon on cue lifting up his arm to give you better access, his bicep bulging. You wrap it around his gash following the bandage, finally patching him up for tonight. Ghost tests it out. He holds his shoulder with the opposite hand and moves his arm in a circle. He can feel the compression of the dressing and bandage around his gash, already knowing you did a good job as always. He nods in approval, "Thanks, Doc."

You smile warmly, and Simon felt his own heart skipping a beat at it. You were tired he could tell, even more now probably from taking care of him but your smile was still radiant. He saw your eyes squinting as you smiled, a tell-tale sign that your smile was genuine. He watches you take off your gloves and scoot back on the rolling stool to stand up, “Feel free to call me or come back to the clinic if you notice anything wrong with the bandage, like if it gets wet or a strong odor. I need you to heal, okay?” The concern in your voice makes Simon melt. He knows you're a doctor, a damn phenomenal one at that and it’s in your nature to care for people, but he wonders what it would be like for someone to care for him like this exclusively just because. Ghost nods compliantly, “Will do.” Ghost stands up and walks out with a soft “Goodnight.”

Simon drove home that night, deciding that he needed the comfort of his home since his dorm was too small. His next deployment wasn’t until a few weeks, so he had plenty of time to spare in England for now. Simon placed the keys into the door and walked inside. Like always, he was welcome with a minimally decorated home. He never saw the point in decorating a house with a person who wouldn’t see it a majority of the time, but he couldn’t help but think when he walked in: The house needs something.

Too tired for a shower and afraid to get his wound wet now, he plops upstairs on his bed. For the first time in his life, Simon’s bed felt...empty. He couldn’t help but think when he laid his head on the pillow: This bed needs something.

His mind failed to rest when he woke up in the afternoon. The sheets fell to his waist when he sat up and his hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions. When he went to the shower to clean himself off from his long deployment finally, he couldn’t help but think: This bathroom feels so empty. All that was on his sink was a holder for his single toothbrush and a single tube of toothpaste, along with a single hairbrush and some soap. Everything in his house came solo.

He walked out of the en-suite bathroom and noticed how singular his bedroom was. The single bedside table, the single pillow, the single blanket, the closet with clothes only for him. Heading downstairs with singularity in his head, he observed his kitchen. The tea kettle stood alone, the utensils were enough only for him, and so was the food in the fridge. Simon never thought his house was this empty until now and he almost feels guilty...embarrassed. Having a home should mean having a space to make yours, to decorate it with photos and to make it lived-in. But what is there to decorate and make lively when there is no one to do it with?

The thought continues to linger on as the days go by, getting stronger with the time.

The garden needs flowers.

I should buy some houseplants.

I should buy a throw blanket.

A few more mugs wouldn't hurt.

Like a usual Brit, he enjoys a cup of tea in the afternoon. Simon then realizes, with his single cup of tea in hand, that this house does not need something, but he himself is in need of someone. He has never felt like there was a void to be filled in life, but he feels obligated to do it now. Countless years of living a solitary life, and now all he yearns for is someone to cherish.

Simon is in need of you.

If you were here, he would have two bedside tables, a lot of pillows, and a closet with clothes enough for the both of you. He’d have more than a pair of shoes in the shoe rack. A house lived-in and a heart devoted.

Most importantly, he would have you.

Simon remembers what you said: “Feel free to call me or come back to the clinic...like if it gets wet..."

Simon took no time in hesitating to go to the bathroom sink and wet the bandage up. He didn't care if he could get a fascist infection or whatever it was called, as long as he got another chance to see your pretty face again.

(i feel like this needs a part two but idk)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

this is so simon riley

(thanks pinterest)

[yourstrulyrani]

a/n: this song just screamed simon riley to me & i finished up my internship at a doctor's office so this is inspired by both..enjoy!

simon riley x doctor/wife!reader cw: suggestive right at the end // wc: 2300

Simon Riley would never even dare to think he was worthy of loving someone. He never deemed himself as someone worthy of being loved either because who would ever date an SAS lieutenant who was so cold and so broken, let alone marry one? You didn't think that though. Simon was the strongest man you knew. You didn't believe that just because he was your husband, but because of the man he is. He has been through hell and back and he still has the strength to live another day. Even with all the chaos in his life, this man loves you as if you're the only woman on earth. He plants kisses so delicate, touches so soft, and words so sweet.

So why isn't he like this anymore?

It has been weeks since Simon has been back from deployment. Weeks of Simon answering your questions and talking to you with mere grunts and murmurs. Weeks without his touch, every night is a bedroom filled without the mix of yours and his moans and grunts. You're driving back home from work, happy that you could get out at the decent time of seven in the evening for today. You love being a doctor and seeing your patients, but it was even more rewarding when you had a husband waiting at home for you to talk to, to kiss and to hold and to spend the rest of the day with. At the penultimate stoplight before home you decide you don't want to go home this time. You thought to yourself there is no point anyway, it'll be the same thing this time too: You will come back home, tired and dirty in your scrubs but still greet Simon with a kiss to his cheek in an attempt to get more out of him compared to yesterday. He'll grunt, acknowledging your presence but not you entirely. You'll shower. Head to bed and sleep without the warmth of his arms around you.

In a need for change, you take a right on traffic light instead of the usual left home and drive to the gym. You usually don't exercise after work, since you're already exhausted from your career as it is. But Simon always used exercise as a way to get his energy out, so why not try something he does? You think of doing something light today just for some quick cardio: the treadmill.

You change into your heavily wrinkled gym clothing in your bag, at the least thankful for the change of clothing. You check in, change in the locker room, and head over to the treadmill. It's now half-past-seven, so you reason with yourself and plan on doing thirty minutes and heading home.

After some time, you stop the treadmill and feel the sweat bead down your face and back. You can feel your heart rate gradually slow down, but you've never felt better. Your hair feels wet and your cheeks are hot with the heat from the exercise. You take a glance at the watch and check the time and in bright letters: 10:58 PM.

Well who knew some quick cardio planned for only half an hour could turn into three hours?

Your eyes widen in disbelief. In the same way you made a beeline for the gym over three hours ago, you now do the same to get back home. Since you lost track of time, you only had such little time to shower and wind down before you had to wake up for another early shift at the hospital again. Knowing you, you won't get enough sleep to last you your whole shift the next morning, but at the same time the time at the gym truly helped clear your mind. You park your car in the driveway right next to Simon's truck, barely driven lately due to his time on deployment and his idleness coming home from it.

Before you could put the keys into the door, it opened. Your husband is already at the door, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. You froze, your hand still holding the key positioned for the door.

"Inside." Is the first word you clearly hear from your husband in weeks and you followed the command, heading inside still hot from your exercise. He closes the door after you enter the house and you can feel his eyes on your body. "Where were you?"

Your eyes squint in confusion. Here you are in gym attire, and he doesn't get the hint? "Is it not obvious enough, Simon?" You wave a hand up and down your gym clothes, "The gym?" You bite back, offering him a sideways glance.

Your husband crosses his arms, widening his stance. "It is a quarter past 11, doll. Cut the crap. Where were you?"

You scoff at his dramatic change in behavior. Where is the Simon that has been distant? You almost miss it. You take a couple of more steps into the house, taking off your shoes and setting them off to the side. "Don't act like all of a sudden you care. I could have been on the side of the road and you wouldn't have given tw—"

"Don't. Don't finish that sentence because we both know it's not true. I care."

"You care? Really, Simon?" You cringe at the discomfort you feel at the whole situation. You're sweaty and your back is sticking to your clothing. Your hair is sticking to your forehead. You walked on a stupid treadmill for three stupid hours and you can feel your legs give out slowly and all you want is sleep. You're pissed off at everything, but mainly at your man who claims to care right now. Without a thought to spare, you head upstairs to your shared bedroom.

All you want is a shower and some sleep. Simon follows you, the both of you knowing full well this isn't the end of the night. Simon walks into the room and sees you standing by your vanity before you could change out of your workout clothes. "What did you even mean by what you just said? Are you questioning the care I have for you now? You’re my wife."

"Oh please, Simon. If anything I have felt more like a roommate than a wife lately."

Simon's eyes widen at your words as he walks closer to you. "A what?"

You roll your eyes and gaze daggers at him, "Did I stutter?" You're too mad to think straight at this point and walk over to him, enough to feel his deep breathing on your skin. "I." You poke his chest once with your pointer finger, your head propped upwards to look at him, "Feel." Poke. Like," Poke. "A roommate." Even after poking into his chest, Simon feels the remnants of your aggressive touch on his body and can't help but to realize how mad you are. He stares down at you, poking the insides of his cheek with his tongue and clenching his jaw after. "Well. Say something, Simon!"

You aim for one last poke but Simon grabs your hand before you could, gentle enough to not hurt but commanding enough so you couldn't move it. "Stop acting like a brat and talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You know exactly what's wrong." You look up at him, your eyes threatening to let the tears flow out.

Simon sees the self-control you hold as you prevent the tears from slipping, and his heart breaks at the guilt he feels. He lets go of your hand, resting it at his sides. "So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell it to me straight then. Where were you?"

"The gym."

He nods, acknowledging your truth. "Okay. Now talk to me."

"I feel—” before you could speak, you tried gathering your thoughts. Your mind which was once cleared is now crowded in self doubt and pressure. You felt so much at once and you felt so close to breaking under the pressure. “I feel neglected, Simon. You came back from deployment and you've been shutting me out. You barely talk to me. You don't touch me. We haven't even had sex in so long. I need you." You let the tears fall, "I just miss you. I come back from work almost everyday and you barely even acknowledge me.”

Simon heard the break in your voice at the last word, and he couldn't help but to berate himself. In this moment, is where Simon thinks again exactly why he isn't worthy of love. He made you cry. His lack of love towards his sweetheart of a wife broke her into pieces so much she would rather spend her time after work at a gym rather than at home.

“Is that it?” He wants to hear more from you in order to fully understand how you’re feeling. Simon sits on the bed, taking your hands and having you stand in between his legs. He looks up at you, admiring the gorgeous features that make up you.

“Are you cheating on me?” You blurt out accidentally and see Simon’s mouth open slightly in shock. Simon couldn’t believe what came out of your mouth and neither could you. You know Simon would never but with the way he’s acting you let the doubt creep in.

“What? No, of course not. I love you. You’re the only one for me.” Simon takes his hands and rubs his hands along the side of your body in reassurance.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?” You sighed.

Simon stays silent, staring into your eyes as his eyebrows furrow slightly in frustration. “I'm not worthy.” He shakes his head and looks down in embarrassment. You can see Simon's lips pout slowly, something he usually does when he's overthinking.

“Worthy? Of what?" Your hands move to his shoulders, rubbing in slow, soothing circles. The feel of him grounded you, and the feel of you grounded Simon.

"Of you, sweetheart." His mouth is parted as he sighs and shakes his head in a physical attempt to let go of the tension. "I am not worthy of the honor it takes to love a woman like you." He sighs again and rubs a hand down his face, scratching the stubble of his beard. He despises bringing work home to you in a fear of giving you stress about what happened when he was away from you, but he has to speak up this time. "My job, sweetheart. It's the complete opposite of yours. You save lives and I take them away. It can't work like this," Simon's voice lowers in shame. "You're too sweet for this world, you care so much. And I care so little that I don't think twice about pulling the trigger. When I came home I drowned in guilt, so disgusted with myself." The more Simon talks, the more you can see his eyes gloss with tears. "I come home to a woman so warm and I am a man who gets more brutal as the time goes by."

You let Simon speak his truth before placing your hands to cup his cheeks, and you knew it was a good sign when you felt him melt into your touch by moving his head a little closer. His hands return to your sides, once again needing your body under his touch to ground him. "You are everything to me, Simon. I don't see you as a brutal man but a man who is worthy of my love." Your thumbs rub against his cheeks, feeling the mix of prickly stubble and skin as you do so.

"But I kill pe—"

You shush him gently before he could finish his sentence. "None of that. That's what you're supposed to do." A hand of yours moves to his hair, raking your fingers through it. In a way, Simon's hair represents how much of a mess he truly is. It has clearly grown out too much, which is unusual compared to the haircut he always has. He hasn't been caring for himself in the way needs or deserves, "You're a soldier, and an amazing one at that, Simon." Your fingers rake behind his ears, one of, if not his most favorite, spots.

"Feels good, lovie."

You giggle at the way he relaxes under your touch, "The touch or my words?"

He hums, "Both. And I didn't mean to shut you out. I love you. I'm sorry."

You frown at the sincerity of his apology and lean over to kiss his cheek. "I love you too, baby."

Simon passes you a cheeky grin, "You're calling your roommate 'baby' now? Weirdo." He chuckles, making a joke at what you said earlier. You smile fondly at your husband. Everything finally feels in tune with how it should be. You hear your husband chucking and see him smiling and being playful. You feel the strands of hair under your touch.

In the intimacy of the moment, you want Simon to know just how much you think he's worthy of you. Since you're already standing in between his legs, you lower yourself slowly. Your knees bend until they reach the hardwood floor and your forearms find their way to rest on your husband's thick thighs. Simon's head moved to keep his gaze on your body as it lowered. You could see your husband lick his lips and his chest rise quicker. "I promise I'm going to make you feel so worthy, Simon. Starting now."

He lets out a breathy 'yeah?' and you nod passionately. He adjusts his hips and spreads his legs further to accommodate for your body in between them. His hands find the ties of his sweatpants, already getting ready for what you're going to do next.

You for sure kept your promise and made him feel oh so worthy that night.

[yourstrulyrani]

simon riley is so into hair pulling and no one can convince me otherwise.

(so thankful that my hair is over 3 feet long so it would be plenty enough for him to wrap around his fist MWAHAHA)

[yourstrulyrani]

cat nap!

[yourstrulyrani]

how’d tf141 react to their woman on their period / in pain from the symptoms !!!!

- coming from ur bsf who’s currently cramping ♡

a/n: hope you feel better my love 🥲🤍 also i woke up to 300 followers today?! thank you all so much for taking the time to even read what i write let alone liking and reblogging. i love writing and i’m so glad that i have this blog to post!

taskforce141 reactions: on your period

simon guides you to the tub for a warm bath already filled with epsom salt to ease your cramps while he heads to tesco to get anything you need. he loves to make use of his military discount and buys you a whole cart of things. if he can, he calls off from work for as long as your period lasts, whether it’s two days or a week long. he applies a warm water bag on your abdomen to ease the cramps, laying your back to his chest as he massages your hips. “you don’t have to lift a finger love, just let me take care of you.” simon is always at your beck and call even when you’re not on your period, but in this time of the month he is even more attentive and concerned for you.

gaz loves to get you cozy during your period. he knows the warmth from your favorite blanket, your stuffed animal, and tea helps with your cramps. if he’s off deployment, he calls off any plans with the boys in order to make sure he’s there for you. he is such a gentleman, he cooks you all of your meals and makes sure your water intake is increased during this time of the month. at night, he massages anywhere you ask him to, whether it’s the aches in your stomach, the ones you have around your lower back, or anywhere else. he places a featherlight kiss on your shoulder as he speaks softly, “relax for me sweetheart. if i could take your pains from you i would.”

price stocks up on all the chocolate he possibly can from tesco before heading back home to take care of you. the thing about price is that he already knows your period is coming. in the days before your period, you’re usually more cranky than usual and you complain of the little things you normally wouldn’t complain about. as soon as it dawns on him he runs to the store to get everything and anything he can for you right before it’s here: painkillers, chocolate, snacks, pads, and anything else you need when he texts you: “hi sweet girl. at the store. is there anything you need?” he’s always a prepared man, whether it be on the field or at home with his favorite woman in the world.

soap buys your favorite chocolate/sweets in bulk, enough to last you another year of periods which he keeps in the pantry. he’s always wondering whether or not he’s doing enough to support you, so he does TOO MUCH. you reassure he’s doing as much as he can in the situation, but this man’s life motto is “happy wife, happy life” and the way he acts towards you shows it no matter the time of the month. he pays extra attention to you on your period. he hates to see you suffer this much, but he kind of loves your period because it gives him an excuse to cuddle with you even more. he’s someone who always runs warmer and this comes to your advantage when you lay on his chest as he rubs you aches away. his hands move up and down your sides, “i’ll be here for you. i’ll take care of everything, baby.”

[yourstrulyrani]

Simon Riley who causes your jaw to lock mid giving him head? ( or maybe an individual reaction list thingy for the tf141?)

my jaw dropped when i read this (enough for it to lock up ;).. get it?) ANYWAY this is my first dirty request ever and first 18+ work ever...i know it's gonna suck (no pun intended i promise), so please cut me some slack :')

taskforce141's reactions to reader's jaw locking mid-head session. cw: mdni. 18+ content ahead. mentions of oral.

simon relishes in the feeling your tongue swirling around the soft skin of his tip, coating it with enough slick to get yourself ready to let himself hit the back of your throat again. "wrap your lips around it, baby. put it in deep for me." you go ahead and try close your lips into an "o" shape until you realize you can't. simon realizes and snickers, removing his tip from your mouth. he pulls you up on the bed to sit with him. he inspects your jaw, massaging it with the tips of his fingers as he says, "you did so well for me that i locked up your jaw, love." he doesn't hesitate heading to urgent care. when you arrive and they ask your reason of visit, he speaks up saying "she just yawned too hard, doctor," rubbing your lower back soothingly... or teasingly. or both. definitely both.

gaz has you lying on your back with your head hanging off the edge of the bed, pumping gently and slowly in and out of your mouth. your mind is hazy with pleasure at the way he feels. all of the desire depletes when you realize he's starting to go too faster and harder and your jaw can't shut. you tap his arm two times, one of many gestures the both of you agreed on way back when as you discussed boundaries during intimacy. gaz instantly becomes aware of the tapping and quickly responds by sitting you upright, sitting by your side. your jaw is locked enough for your words to become slurred. he understands and apologizes, "i'm so sorry, love. i didn't realize." after resolving to a quick google search, he applied a warm compress to your jaw. he gives you a bath as aftercare since both of you know for a fact that was enough for tonight, as your jaw slowly starts to relax.

price has himself laid back on the bed, legs apart and his hands clasped behind his head. you're in between his knees as your head bobs up and down, one hand taking care of the rest of his shaft. a proud smirk on his face, "just like that, pretty girl." his gruff voice praises out to your movements. you usually make noises, whether you're gagging just right or trying to moan with your mouth full, but john notices the noise that comes out of your mouth this time and it's not normal: it's of discomfort. his smirk falters and his eyebrows furrow in concern. his hands unclasp and move to take your mouth off him. he wastes no time going to the kitchen to grab painkillers. with his carefulness, you take the medicine. after, he moves his body so he's laying on the bed again and your back is against his chest. he massages your jaw, enough to ease the pain also thanks to the medicine. "don't worry. i'm here for you. let me know if i can help any more, lovely." he presses a kiss to the curve of your jaw, helping you fall asleep.

johnny let you take control of the pace this time. you decide to go all out, deep and fast because you thought he deserved it after a harsh deployment. "so well, sweetheart." his fingers glide along your hair, careful not to damage his gorgeous girl's hairstyle. he's so close and you both know it, but when you feel the ache in your jaw you couldn't help but to get off him. at first he thinks you're lying to tease him but when he knows you're not bluffing, he justs bursts out laughing. "there's no way. this can actually happen?" like gaz, he uses google to search for a remedy. unlike gaz, his search led him to a youtube video of a bbc show called 'bizarre er' of your same dilemma, which was solved by placing popsicle sticks inside the mouth to tire the muscles, forcing them to shut eventually. johnny giggles as he shows you the video, but knowing your man, you trust him in his popsicle stick plan. (it works out in the end).

(yes that video mentioned in soap's part is legit on youtube, look it up LMAO. this request made me remember i watched it ages ago when i was little and i thought soap would be someone to attempt it idk)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[yourstrulyrani]

HI !!!! just wanted to ramble ab how i read those husband!simon hcs (and loved them) and then saw the note at the end ab the australian grand prix and was like “omg a fellow f1 fan” and THEN i come to ur blog and see that you support ferrari!!! (im split btwn mclaren n ferrari but shhh…..) anyway idrk what im going on ab but yeah you’re super cool thought u should know that

aww hii love!! i'm so glad you loved them, it was my first work ever so i was so scared that they'd suck, but the love i've gotten has been insane so far on and i'm more than grateful for it! it's readers like you who make me happy that i started this blog.

HAHA OMG I DO SUPPORT FERRARI...with very little hope, but next year is our year TRUST. i love mclaren as well too (i love your pfp by the way lando looks so cute), but ferrari is def my top team. thank you for letting me know i'm cool btw 🥲👍🏼

(also speaking of f1 can we mention about how fast they replaced lawson like give that man a few more races LMAO?!)