Simon Riley X You - Blog Posts

COD Masterlist

141 Headcanons

Stickers First Words

Captain John Price

Loving Husband pt 1 Loving Husband pt 2 Loving Husband pt 3

Loving Husband pt 4 Loving Husband pt 5

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Na'vi!Ghost

💋

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Paperwork

Grey Joggers

Kyle 'Gas' Garrick

Alejandro Vargas

Beautiful

🏍️

Little thief Mi amor

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

I hate you

König

Games

So I'm currently working on something for Ghost, It was only supposed to be something small but I got too carried away

Anyway here's a lil something

"Ma we're here" you shouted as you opened the door. The first person to greet you was your oldest brother, Tobias. He looked at Simon and called out "Ma you said he was tall but damn he's huge." You punched your brother's arm "Tobias. Don't be rude" You scalded him, he quickly rephrased "I don't mean big as in......I mean......damn you are tall. What 6'6?" Simon chuckled at your brother's enthusiastic greeting, amused by his initial impression of his height "6'4 actually." He found it endearing that your siblings were so eager to meet him. 

Okay so I have ideas for Gaz, Price and Ghost but I don't know who to write first so imma make a poll

Domesticated Ghost

He used to have a bridge piercing, now closed up and only noticeable because he likes - genuinely loves - when you manhandle his face. Like he’s a giant Rottweiler in desensitization training. Drool catching in the webbed skin between your fingers. Nipping at the tips of your new gel manicure. (He asks if you’d paint his initials on your nails. You say no. He's not bothered. More… pleased. Like he was testing to see if he could push your boundaries, and is happy that he can't.)

He explains his past of being a punk youth, how a counselor got him to quit drugs and enlist. It's mildly infuriating.

"One fucked habit for another." Your muttering isn't lost; he's too present, the alley too narrow for that. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal that he’s still kicking, all ten fingers and toes, seemingly well-adjusted - or at the very least, self-aware.

You thumb the space between his eyes. Feel the thickness of healed skin. "I think you should put it back in."

"Get it re-pierced?" He nudges into your hand, encouraging you after you stop.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Coz I’m fucking forty with a wife."

"Your wife is single," you remind him, like it’s a direct correction.

"Mm." A palm skates across your belly. "Is she pregnant too?"

Your hand stills. Heart stops. Mouth opening - "How - who told you that?"

He mirrors you. Shocked, in his own way. "You’re-?"

You shove him hard. "Fuck no, you fuck! God, you scared the hell out of me."

He settles back in far too easily, in your opinion. Purring, essentially.

"Soon."

"No chance."

"Never, then." His acceptance with your choice. It eases you. No more defense.

"… Maybe not that, either."

His head tilts, chin up. "Yeah?"

You shrug instead of answering. You think you'd do anything for him.

Ghost has been gone for months...

Six months, to be exact.

When he finally gets home it's late at night, well over midnight. All the lights are off, no sound coming from anywhere.

He wonders if you've started moving on. Wonders if your feelings have started fading.

He slips his shoes off and makes his way into your shared bedroom. You're sound asleep in your bed, on his side even though his scent has long since left those sheets.

He undresses and slides in beside you, gentle not to wake you. His head hits the pillow and he sighs as your familiar scent enters his nostrils.

He drapes an arm around you and freezes when his hand lands on your belly.

Your very swollen belly. And he feels a kick right back against his palm.

"Welcome home, Si."

18+, MDNI

having a one night stand with simon and thinking you’d never see him again, he was a good lay, giving you orgasm after orgasm and speaking absolute filth into your ear when he was deep inside your cunt. you’d say maybe the best you’ve ever had, but that didn’t stop you from leaving early in the morning from his sparsely decorated flat, a note left on his side table that simply said you’d had a good night and you hoped he did too, you even added a cute little smiley to the end. then you’d gone on with your day, with your life.

until, about 2 weeks after, there was a knock at your door, it’s late, already having put on your pjs and started searching your pantry for something to make for dinner. and when you open the door, your surprise is palpable, there simon stood, long, strong legs covered in cargo pants, pretty brown eyes locked on you, a black surgical mask covering the lower part of his face, hiding the long scar that you remember feeling rub against your thigh. he holds a bag of takeout and then proceeds to shoulder his way in, leaving a small kiss on your cheek through the mask before making his way to your couch.

you want to ask how he found your place, how he knew you were home, and why the hell he’s here. you actually do ask the third one, which he answers with a simple, gruff “dinner”. you nod slowly, finding your way to the other end of the couch, but are met with a huff and a large hand pulling you closer to him, making sure your leg is pressed right up against his. he plates your food, then starts eating his own, makes small comments about the taste and asks questions about your day. the night seems almost normal, like something you’ve done before with him, disregarding the fact that you’d only been around each other for 2 hours tops and almost all of that time was spent by you trying to do something other than moan his name.

when you’re done you expect him to leave, to go on with his night, or maybe you to wake up from a dream. instead he makes his way to your bedroom, sits down on the bed and tells you how he can’t stop thinking about your lips around his cock. and yeah, you fold.

that’s how you end up learning that his stamina is insane, especially for an older guy, and he likes to see your face, makes sure to face you towards a mirror in full nelson or holds you in mating press with his pink (scarred) lips against yours. maybe you also learn that his phone lock screen is a color scarily similar to your irises and you see a file with your full name (one you hadn’t given him) front and center when he rolls over to unlock his phone, he says something about how he needs to send a message to ‘his team’ about dinner this weekend to meet his new bird, you wonder what kind of sports team he’s on, gotta be rugby with a build like his, but your thoughts don’t stray too far before he’s ready to go again, something about three being his lucky number, that this time it will take.

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who's just, so fucking happy to hear you complain.

like the tap is dripping? yes ma'am he'll fix that straight away, because a tap that drips long enough to annoy you means he's got a home.

the grocery store has changed the layout? that means you've been there long enough to notice.

there's construction for an ugly building down the street? you're clearly planning to stay.

he left the toilet seat up? he'll kiss your face all over until you giggle, promising he won't do it again, he might, just to hear you complain about it.

he's just so giddy when you complain about mundane things, he's so happy you don't have to worry about blood and war and death, you get to live in peace. even if that peace is disrupted by a stupid toilet seat.

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

Simon Riley is the sort of man to only speak through intimacy. And I’m not talking sex; this man wouldn’t even take his shirt off around you until you begged. Not that he was shy or uncomfortable, but simply because his love language is intimacy of a non physical sort. He’d learn to cook your mother’s favorite recipe. Clip a bouquet of wild flowers at the correct angle so they stay fresher for longer. For you. Research your favorite book genres and authors so he could speak with you about them and give you new recommendations. Watch you so closely that he could tell from a flicker in the corner of your mouth and a specific movement of your eyes that you wanted out of a social situation. His devotion would be endless and complete. Get home from deployment and wait around the house like a dog until you got home. Braid your hair when you’re sick and oil your scalp late at night before you showered. Avoid letting himself sleep until the rise and fall of your chest against his arms settled into the pattern of your rest he had meticulously memorized. This man gives everything and then some without asking for a single thing back.

The Years - Ghost x Reader

Ghost who met you well into your military career, an expert strategist and even better with guns, Price had added you to the team after a year of working on various missions with you.

You weren’t simple though. After joining the military to help pay for med school, you had found out that you were better at killing people than you were saving them. They’d offered to transfer you and just have you work as a medic, but you continued on and eventually found your place in the American special forces.

Price had seen your cunning, your tactical brilliance, and your speed in the field and claimed you for the 141. For the past four years you had worked with them, never not by their sides unless you were on leave.

It was in these time periods, away from you, that Ghost sat in his flat and did nothing but think of you. The way you keep your hair braided and the breath you take before firing your rifle. The fact you hate the color yellow and love Chinese takeout. Think about when a year into your time with them, right before Price had asked you to join, that your husband had cheated on you.

You had told him this story in the dark confines of a bar as Gaz, Soap, and Price had a vicious game of billiards. He hadn’t spoke the whole time, watching you with a focus not on your face but on the rage he had to keep in check

They had finished a mission early and were allowed to go on leave for the holidays, or until you were needed again. The car in your driveway had been the first sign. Upon opening the door, the moans trailing down the hallway and the clothes strewn on the floor told the story. You hadn’t bothered to go in crying, simply grabbed your handgun and kicked open the door. The bitch looked just like you.

“Did you kill ‘em?” was all Simon asked as you had trailed off, fist clenched around a heavily nursed glass of bourbon.

“No. I think back and I wish I had, but no. I could have got away with that back in Texas, but here, you brits don’t have justified murder.”

So you had joined the team, growing reckless in the field. It took a bullet to the thigh and a knife wound to the abdomen, along with four ripped stitches, for Ghost to wrestle you to the ground and demand. Demand for you to care enough about yourself to not die. To not leave him.

You came back from that final leave of absence stronger. Smiling even, as Gaz had pulled you into a hug so tight it made Ghost twitch thinking about the jagged wound in your stomach.

For those next years you had grown closer to your team, learning to rely on them and they you. Things become simple. But you aren’t simple. And so things get complicated when Soap mentions bringing in some girls after a particularly successful mission.

You tolerate the strippers for all of thirty minutes before you storm out, the sight of one of them eyeing Ghost like he’s not Simon Riley but instead a way to get an extra fat tip.

The boys are too drunk to notice him immediately follow, except Price, whole smiles to himself before turning back to the girl prettily sitting on his lap. It takes Ghost a few moments to catch up to you as you walk out of the barracks.

“Ghost leave me alone.” you shout before he can speak.

“Why did you leave?” he calls out after you, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him.

“Because I’m not in the mood to watch you all oogle women in four inch heels and minimal clothing all night.”

He curses below his breath.

“You’ve never ‘ad a problem until now. So what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

You can feel the way he searches your face, mask doing little to conceal the desperation in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder tightens imperceptibly, every inch of his body wired to the way your expression shifts.

“Ghost.”

He chases the centimeter you back away from him, sensing the way you recoil from the honesty he’s asking of you.

“Tell me.”

You sigh.

“That girl wanted to fuck you.”

“She did.”

Your lip curls and you turn once again and stalk to your room, fully intending on slamming the door in his face. Except he doesn’t grant you that pleasure and shoves himself through after you.

“Ghost what the hell do you want from me?” you practically snarl at him.

“I didn’t want to fuck her.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“You do.”

This makes you pause, looking him up and down. Standing in your room, chest heaving from chasing after you and eyes practically blazing. He breaks the silence first, taking a step forward as his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what.” you ask, more confused than before.

“For not being good at this. Not…not good at any of this. I didn’t think it was worth trying to learn. I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” you cry, closing the distance between you two.

“You feel the same.”

He says it as a question, not a statement the way it should be. The way he intends it. He’s not brave enough to say that like he knows what’s right and wrong. Not after he’d spent years in love with you and hadn’t said a damn thing.

“I do.” you let the anger out in your response to hide the tears in your eyes.

Ghost pulls you into his arms. The tears fall. Your body trembles in his grip. He hushes against the hair of your scalp.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Your arms lift to wrap around him, burrowing your face into his chest and breathing him in to calm the shaking that racks your body. When you finally calm, he lifts you gently and places you softly on the bed. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable, but he soon has you curled into him as he strokes long lines down your back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers.

“Me too, Simon.”

Cowboy!Simon who rides a big old Belgian Draft horse with a palomino coat. He knows a smaller horse couldn’t handle his weight and all of his hunting gear, so the sweet gelding he found tied up and abandoned to a tree was perfect for him.

Cowboy!Simon who has no interest in a wife or the word of God, only the small cabin he built for himself in the woods and the pitiful garden in his backyard.

Cowboy!Simon who comes home from a several day long hunting trip to find a small thing like yourself cursing silently under your breath as you rip at weeds and meticulously pick mites off leaves. Behind you, a small red Appaloosa eyes him warily as you fail to notice him on his massive horse.

Cowboy!Simon who decides at that very moment that he doesn’t need a wife or the word of God, just you to angrily tend to his garden. He’ll cook you dinner too; he killed a massive buck while he was gone.

Anyway

Simon Riley who is finally back from deployment after 8 months out in God only knows where. Fresh blood still under his nails when he arrived at the shitty flat he called home. It was made incredibly worse when he realized there wasn’t any food in his fridge and his pantry laid bare. The two cans of beans did not count. So he dragged himself to the closest grocery store and picked out necessities, half dazed as people gave him second glances. Finally headed toward the exit and passing by the coffee shop inside the store, he was stopped by a rowdy laugh.

Simon couldn’t remember the last time he heard a laugh like that.

Upon turning he saw you.

It took every bit of his willpower to remember how to even speak when he trudged up to the counter, grocery bags heavy in his hands. He didn’t register the soft greeting you gave him. What he did notice was the way you looked him up and down. Disgust or interest, it didn’t matter. You were his now, and he would do anything to hear that laugh again.

In pain, theres peace.

Call of Duty Ghost

Ghost x Fem! Lieutenant! Reader

Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of guns/gunshot, wounds, friend dying, friend getting injured, self blame

Oof this one hurts- I'm so tired but I got it done, I need to go eat my hot-pockets now

-Writer Icy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gunfire. Screaming for a medic. Not having enough time

It happened too fast. I watch as he lay lifeless on the concrete floor, several gunshot wounds to the stomach and chest… right through the vest.

As the unit communicated through coms, the world went quiet for me. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears as my blood ran cold. Rage and anger but sadness and regret. I was frozen, stuck in one spot as I stared down at my now dead best friend. He had been there my junior and senior year of highschool and enrolled into the military with me..I was at his damn wedding- “Y/N! Pull yourself together!' I heard Soap's voice ring out sharply, his words cutting through the silence that I thought was there. 'This isn't a field trip, L/n! Get your ass into gea-” another gunshot and a yell. My head whipped around to Soap who was now bleeding from his bicep. “Fuck..” I had to move, I had frozen in the middle of fire. My heart sank as I realized the severity of my actions. 

Ghost’s POV

Soap's words had stung her, but they also served as a harsh reminder of her duty. I ran out just as L/n looped her arm up under Soap’s, making their way back to the hall we took cover in. I could only serve a sharp look her way. “L/n, You're a lieutenant. Act like one.” I grumbled under my breath. She put her head down as the rest of the unit met back at the evacuation heli.

No ones POV

After returning to base, a run-down shack in the middle of nowhere; they were able to get Soap down and banaged after removing the lodged bullet in his arm. “Fuckin’ ‘ell Soap” Ghost mumbled after watching Y/n bandage Soaps arm. “L/n, what the hell were you thinking? People die everyday- You could’ve gotten Soap or yourself killed.” 

Y/n nodded “Yes Ghost I know, I know the severity of my actions and what could’ve happened…It wont happen again.” she mumbled before leaving. Soap grabbed Ghost’s arm with his good one, “Go easy on ‘er mate. How’d you feel if ya’ lost her in combat?” Ghost nodded, “I know…Have to be harsh on her out front…Price would have our arse if he knew-” Soap patted his comrade’s arm and nodded “I know. Just go get ‘er.” He mumbled before relaxing back into his temporary bed.

Ghost returned to their shared room to find Y/n sitting on the edge of the bed, her back facing the door. Tears streamed down her face as grief consumed her, not only for their fallen comrade but also for the realization that her panic and freeze up could have jeopardized Soap, herself and the whole mission… So many more lives could’ve been lost if she had stood there another second-

“Y/n,” Ghost’s deep voice rang through the silence of the small room. He closed the door and made his way over to her, his heart heavy.

'I'm sorry, Simon,' Leah whispered, her voice trembling. 'I let you down.'

Ghost crossed the room and crouched in front of her. With a soft touch, he rested his ungloved hand on her knee, his gaze meeting hers. 'You didn't let me down, Y/n.”

'But I panicked,' Leah protested. “I could’ve gotten Soap or someone else on the team killed. I-If I had stood there another second, It could've-”

“We all have our moments of weakness, Y/n,” Ghost sighed, cutting her off. “But it's how we respond to them that truly matters.”

Ghost's words brought a glimmer of solace to Y/n. She leaned into his shoulder as the final walls broke as she cried openly into her partners shoulder. He held her close, whispering soothing words into her hair. “Let's honor your friend,” Ghost suggested softly. “We'll give them a separate burial, just the two of us tomorrow…I know they were your best friend.” 

“He was practically my brother Simon..” she hiccuped. “So lets make them feel honored. He may be gone but not completely.” Ghost soothed her to the best of his ability. Comfort wasn’t his specialty, it was Soap’s. Being with Y/n, he had to learn a thing or two as to, in words of Soap, “Not be a fucking dick-faced-prick”.

The following day, they found a secluded spot, far from the temporary base in the forest clearing. With solemn hearts, they laid their comrade to rest, offering a whispered prayer for their eternal peace. As they filled the grave, Y/n felt a sense of closure. Though the sorrow would linger, she knew that her friend had found their way to the afterlife. It hurt her but she knew it was always going to hurt when she lost someone she loved. She knew when she joined, they both did. But as she looked at her partner beside her, she felt relief that she wasn't going through this alone. The man might be harsh, rude, and unfeeling on the outside but she knew what laid in his heart and she loved him for it all.

Together, Ghost rebuilt Y/n’s shattered spirits. They recognized the strength in their connection and the importance of supporting each other through their darkest hours. Y/n's panic had been a harrowing experience, but it had also brought them closer together, forging an unbreakable bond that transcended the battlefield. He knew she was going to be okay, not today or tomorrow, but she’ll get through this and he’d help her till the end.