I Like To Draw The Captain A Little Shaggy

Simon loves the scent of your hair and your skin, but he would do that thing where he would sniff like a dog right in ur ear because it tickles and his favorite pastime is annoying you

pretends to go in for a kiss and just

sniffsniffsniffsniff

YES HE WOULD

He’s such an ass for doing it too because he’s obnoxious with it. Baiting you with a kiss only to SNIIIFFF so loudly in your ear that it’s like going through a wind tunnel

Laughs when you yell at him and holds you so you can’t get away (he obviously stops when you’re genuinely angry) so he can do it again and again

Also jokes that your ear smells great

I still can't believe how many cishet men are fumbling the bag with this Call of Duty thing.

You have tons of women suddenly interested in the thing YOU are interested in, and instead of bonding over shared interests, you choose to gatekeep and be a misogynist.

Just buy a skull mask you fucking dingus

The torment on soap's face continues with more squish

He's starting to accept it

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 0.2k

the phone buzzes at 3:07 a.m.

you answer on instinct, heart thudding like a warning—but the moment you hear the low crackle of distant static, your chest eases.

"si?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep.

"told you i'd call."

his voice is gravel, dulled by poor signal and fatigue. but it’s him.

"you okay?"

"fine," he says. it's automatic. a soldier's answer. then quieter, "can't sleep."

you sit up against the headboard, brushing hair from your face. "where are you?"

a silence and then, his answer.

"nowhere good."

he never tells you, not really. you stopped asking a long time ago.

there's a pause. you hear him breathe.

"is she awake?" his question makes you smile for a moment.

"she had a nightmare an hour ago. i rocked her back down, but she’s been babbling since. talking to the ceiling fan, i think.” you explain softly, sitting at the bed.

he huffs something close to a laugh.

"i'll put you on speaker."

in the dim nightlight, your daughter—grace, as he was gifted to call her, lies in her crib, blanket half-kicked off, tiny fists waving at nothing.

simon listens. on the other end of the world, he's crouched in some half-shelled out building, rifle at his side, bone-weary—but when his daughter coos into the line, high and breathy and nonsense-sweet, his eyes close.

"bah-bah. da-da-da-da."

he bites down the ache.

"daa,"she says again, louder, like she knows.

his voice breaks low over the line. "that's me, sweetheart."

as the line keeps up, you smile with your eyes closed. tiny moments, as you called them. tiny moments where simon could feel happy even if he was crossing the whole world.

a/n: simon would have a daughter fight me

'bury all your secrets in my skin'

Training for Two

Chapter 1. Interview

Masterlist

SUMMARY: After Riley's injury on a mission, she can no longer be a part of the task force. Simon reluctantly starts looking for a dog-sitter to watch her while he's away for work, and that's when you show up on his doorstep.

Warnings: none

Simon Riley would have laughed if anyone had suggested that he needed a dog-sitter.

Riley, his eighty-pound German Shepherd and only family (outside of the 141, of course), went with him everywhere. Grocery store? There she was, K-9 vest on to avoid getting the stink eye from trouble-stirring strangers. Missions? She was there, working alongside Simon, and when she couldn't join, she was safe and tucked away on the animal unit back on base. At the small, one-story unit he called home? You'd better believe she's sitting on the couch next to him as he watches the telly, trying not to succumb to his daily nap. He never considered having a dog-walker care for her, since there was hardly a second where she wasn't walking right there with him.

But of course, as expected - life threw him a curveball.

The mission had gone well so far; everyone was booking it to exfil, hardly worrying about the few enemies left who could barely manage to fire their guns. Simon and Riley were sprinting to the heli, Simon already imagining how he was going to take a fat nap when he got back to base, when he heard it - amidst the sparce gunshots, Riley's pained yelp.

Simon had never shot someone so fast, but before he knew it, there was a bullet planted between the enemy soldier's eyes. Simon rushed to scoop Riley into his arms as she whined and howled - he loaded her onto the helicopter with Soap's help, hands shaking as he looked for the damage. Her right hind leg was bleeding, and every time he tried to look at it, she snapped her teeth in his direction with a shrill yap.

Simon couldn't hear Price as he promised to get her into surgery ASAP. He didn't register Gaz wrapping gauze around her leg as he carried her off the heli and into the medbay. He couldn't hear Johnny trying to comfort him as they stood in the hall, waiting for her to come out of the operating room so Simon could finally see her again. The only thing he could comprehend was her cries, her blood, and the fact that he was responsible for all this.

It wasn't a lethal injury, he knew that. But he assumed, and the vet later confirmed that she wouldn't be fit to continue working. And that terrified him. He had to continue working - what would happen to her? He wouldn't put her up for adoption, in fact, he'd nearly bit the head off the poor soldier who had suggested the idea. She'd be coming home with him, once she had fully healed, but then what? How would he take care of her when he had to go on missions?

He couldn't. Much to his chagrin, and as much as he hated the thought of her being under anyone else's responsibility, he was forced to hire a pet-sitter. He begrudgingly posted ads online, and even put his request up at the local doggie-daycare, despite having never sent Riley there. It didn't take long after bringing Riley home before people began to answer his ad, and he plucked a good handful of them to interview over the weekend.

So, there he was - sitting in the breakfast nook with Riley at his feet, silently judging each interviewee that had walked into his home. He was quite disappointed in the selection.

Simon had already decided 'no' to nearly every dog sitter that had answered his ad. He sat across from them as they described their skills and achievements, bored out of his mind as they treated the interview like it was a college application. He didn't want an egotistical, decorated twat caring for his dog... if Riley didn't care about this bloke being voted 'dog-walker of the month' by the doggie daycare, why should he?

He knew it came down to much more than that - but he was going by Riley's reaction, too. And so far, she was uninterested in all seven that he had interviewed thay day. She sat by Simon's feet, bum leg out and eyes zoning out on the stranger's shoes as they droned on. No one had actually paid much attention to her, instead focusing on impressing Simon.

He hated to admit it, but a boarding house for dogs might be the best option.

He had just scratched the second to last name off of his list of interviewees, pouring himself a cup of coffee at 4 pm, when a knock rapped at his door. He sighed, looking down at Riley; she was laying on her side, huffing at the fact that the random visits from random people was still going on.

"One more, eh?" Simon said, reaching down to ruffle her ears. She groaned through her nostrils in annoyance as he straightened out and walked towards the door.

He reluctantly opened it to find you standing there.

You, with nothing but your phone and keys, wearing a t shirt, oversized plaid, leggings, and sneakers. No folder full of resumes and reviews, no bone-shaped doggie bag holders... the only other thing you had was an apologetic look on your face.

"Hi." You said warily.

"Evenin'." Simon responded, leaning against the door.

You sighed. "I should let you know- well, aren't I being rude..." You rolled your eyes at yourself and stuck your hand out at him. You stated your name with a sheepish smile.

He stared at your hand for a second, before shaking it with his own. "Simon."

The way your eyes lingered on his hand after he had gripped it so firmly didn't go unnoticed by him - but you quickly regained focus. "Well - before you waste your time on me, I should explain: I didn't read the posting correctly, and I thought this was a house-sitting gig. Only just noticed when I checked the address before I left... figured I'd still stop by since I told you I would."

You were looking at the ground out of embarrassment at this point. Simon's brow furrowed as he observed you. House-sitting isn't horrendously different from pet-sitting... he thought. "Well-"

"But I love dogs!" You quickly interjected. "Had three of them growing up, two bullies and a golden! Loves of my life, they are- never a day I didn't walk them. Well, besides that one week for Becca's wedding- and when my Nan had that nasty virus and I had to check up... on her..."

Simon's raised brow must have made you realize the tangent you had embarked on, because you snapped your mouth shut. You cleared your throat nervously and shifted on your feet.

Simon was the tiniest bit entertained. "And how's your Nan now?" He asked.

"Oh, much better." You said with a smile. "'Course, that was four years ago... she- she's alive, I mean! God, that sounded morbid, didn't it?"

Simon huffed out a laugh, before he stepped to the side and nodded his head towards the inside. "C'mon in - you came out this way, might as well chat. Could maybe use a house-sitter, too."

You muttered a quick 'thanks' and stepped inside, immediately taking note of how pristine and bare the home was. No decorations, only dark grey furniture with darker accents... the closest thing to decor was probably the mauve throw blanket over the back of the sofa.

"You like cleaning?" You speculated, following Simon into the kitchen.

"Not home enough to get it dirty." He replied nonchalantly, seating himself at the breakfast nook. He took a sip from his mug as he shoved a hand in his sweatshirt pocket. "Coffee?"

"Oh, no thanks." You shook your head politely. "Not now, anyways. I'll be up all-"

You cut your reasoning short when you spotted Riley, sitting still by Simon's feet. "Oh, hello!" You chirped, lowering yourself down to your knees and reaching your knuckles towards her, palm-up. "You must be Riley!"

She hesitated, then sniffed your knuckles, huffed, sniffed again, and thumped her tail slowly. She tilted her head back and looked at Simon with a questioning glance.

He chuckled, rubbing between her ears. He watched as you fished a small baggie from your pocket, taking out one of the lumpy, golden balls from the contents. You held it up for Simon to see.

"Peanut butter bacon cookie." You said, and Riley sniffed the air between her and the treat. "No sugars, no preservatives. Picked some up from the daycare on the way here."

Simon nodded once. "You can give-"

Before he could finish, Riley flawlessly snatched the cookie from between your fingers, downing it in a few bites. She licked her lips and stared at you as you laughed.

"Where are your manners?!" You said, poking her side. She followed your finger with her nose, searching for another treat.

You looked back at Simon. "I hope that was alright."

Simon shrugged, though he silently scolded Riley for accepting something from a stranger so quickly. "She'll survive."

Over the next hour - which was twice as long as he had entertained anyone that day - Simon listened to you ramble about your qualifications. Except, you didn't mention reviews, awards, or self achievements. You talked about your family dogs (the two pitbulls, Rowena and Charlemagne, and the golden retriever, Donald). You described the time you took care of your neighbor's schnauzer and home when she had to make a last minute trip to Berlin for two weeks. You talked about the best trails for dogs based on the texture of the ground and the environment (the younger dogs liked Swan's trail more, due to the thicker, woody area; older ones seemed to like Ellington park, where it was more of a suburban area with smoother paths). You rattled on about how that damn husky in the apartment across from you is always yelling, and how you really should invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.

Simon listened to every word you said. You seemed to know more than just how to walk a dog - it was almost as if you knew their language. You didn't just live with them, you cared about their personalities and preferences. He had a subconscious appreciation for how you regarded them - despite trying to keep up the act thay he was unhappy about needing a dog-sitter, he liked you.

And clearly, so did Riley. She was laying at Simon's feet, completely relaxed, eyes flitting between you and your hand movements as you spoke. You would occasionally look down to her, as if you were letting her know that she was also a part of the conversation, and she would lift her head ever so slightly and stare back - like she was listening.

"- and she decided that the day before my biochemistry exam, she was going to take her frustration out on my notes! Papers everywhere, even my sticky notes were torn up! You'd think she had a personal vendetta against me, wouldn't you?" You looked down at Riley for affirmation, and she looked back at you and slapped her tail against the floor a few times.

Simon chuckled, then sighed. "Well- I think you're more than qualified for this, and I think she likes you." He nudged Riley with his foot, who looked at him and huffed.

Your eyes widened. "Does that mean I got the job?"

He nodded. "Don't know when I'll be deployed next, but it should be soon. I'll send you an email with Riley's routine, and if you want to make some extra cash, I'll include some things you can do around the house."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" You exclaimed. You leaned down to Riley, who reached her head out and sniffed the air between your faces. "Ya hear that girl? You're stuck with me!"

Simon chuckled and stood up, followed by you and Riley. "You can expect to hear from me by Tuesday. I'll give you the spare key the morning I head out."

You followed him out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Riley pushed past you to stay close to Simon's side.

"That's fine. My schedule's flexible, I don't do much besides babysit. Also, let me know her preferences, like where she likes to walk, treats, toys, things like that."

Simon opened the door for you and you stepped outside, turning to face him on the landing. "Also - glad you didn't go with Mitchell. Bloke's a fraud."

Simon's brow raised as he leaned against the door. "S'cuse me?"

"Daniel Mitchell. Saw him on your piece of paper there." You replied, making Simon look down at the crumpled list of interviewees in his hand. "He was NOT dog-walker of the month - in fact, he was turned away when he applied to work at the daycare. He treated the dogs like they were cats, for gods sake! Said they don't actually need to be walked n' you can just let them in the backyard for a few minutes. He's out of his head!"

You sighed, tugging your keys out of your flannel pocket. "Anyways, I should get going. I'll look out for your email!" You turned and departed down the walkway, not sparing Simon a second glance as you left him in the doorway. "See you soon!"

He watched you climb into your small car, returning the wave you gave him before you pulled out of his driveway and disappeared down the street. Simon felt an odd stillness in his home - you had came and went like a storm, and the only evidence that you were ever here was the small baggie of peanut butter and bacon cookies on the kitchen table. He sighed, closing his front door and looking down at Riley.

"She's either gonna be the best, or the worst." He said, running a hand down his face.

Riley let out a groan, which turned into a high-pitched growl. She shifted her weight back and forth on each foot anxiously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Want t' go see Johnny?" He asked. She barked at the familiar name, running to where her leash hung in the closet.

He supposed it was about time. He hadn't seen his team since she was sent home. He knew she was probably aching to see someone other than him right now, and he was honestly going a little stir crazy himself, after spending so much time in the normal, civilian world.

He moved next to her, grabbing the leash and snapping it to her collar. She immediately ran back to the door and waited for him to open it, and he laughed.

"A'right, a'right... but no tackling Price this time. Nearly took out a few of his teeth last time, ya ninny."

Next ->

aimless fluff tonight because im feeling it. john price x reader

“mm…hello?”

“there’s my girl.”

“john?”

he can see you with clarity when he closes his eyes. you’re rolling onto your belly, readjusting yourself between the soft cotton sheets and the early morning pitch. rubbing your eyes, stifling a yawn, settling back into a lullaby consciousness and a blissful ignorance to hour on the clock.

when he opens them, the image is gone, but your voice remains.

“everything okay?”

he hums.

“jus’missed hearin’ your voice.”

and what a sound it is. even through the tinfoil connection- softness breaks and mends with your deep breaths on the other line. like the spinning of yarn. he fidgets with the frayed ends of the mittens you made him before he left.

your giggle is a drug- intoxicates him until he’s leaning into the cement, trying to keep his inebriation a secret from simon, who is pretending to be asleep for both of their sakes.

“since when did you become such a sap?”

he chuckle is low. “always been that way, m’fraid. jus took marryin’ you to bring it outta me.”

your laugh is tired, and he hears your response before you say it. makes his heart twist.

“im missing you, john.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes again, trying to conjure the image of you, but it’s hazier now, distant, “couple more days.”

“you better…” you’re sniffling now, and john closes his fist around the soft gloves and pictures you in the living room, perched in your chair and hiding their beginnings from him because it was ‘a surprise’, “you better come home.”

“of course I will darlin’,” he smiles, “always do, don’t I?”

that seems to satisfy you, if only enough to lull you back into your sheets. he rolls his shoulders, allowing himself to listen to your breath pattern. memorizes it, and if he plugs his ears, he can pretend you’re sleeping next to him.

pretend that you belong where it’s grimy.

“promise me, john?”

thrifted chair. oak desk. office calls and paperwork. that’s what you voice sounds like- the temptation to never make another promise he cannot keep.

maybe he is getting to old for this.

“promise.”

masked brainrot

single dad!simon riley x reader but he’s too scared to tell you about his son cause he thinks you’ll leave like everyone else did when they found out he has a kid

he’s just savoring this time he has with you before you inevitably leave.

but he doesn’t know that you already know. when you both got wine drunk one night (he’s an emotional drunk btw) he was so out of it that he started talking about his little boy

how much he loves him and how guilty he feels when he leaves for his newly taken short deployments (even though he’s chosen desk work and training recruits) and how much he wants you to meet him and love him just as much as he does.

he tells you that everyone else that he’s ever been interested in got told on the first date and they all left and said they couldn’t deal with it. which is why he’s so scared to tell you. he tells you how sorry he is and he’s crying at this point and you have to calm him down from a panic attack.

you had to act surprised a few months later when he finally told you

do u ever see someone elses headcannon for ur fave character and its like….. i completely respect that u have the right to that headcannon, i will not confront u at all and start needless bullshit over that headcannon…. but i will silently sit here and give you the sideways glance of the century