Okay So We All Know That Simon Acts All Tough, But Is Secretly Touch Starved.

Roommate!Simon Riley who is literally your personal weather man.

Like, why need the app when you have him to do it all for you??

“Simon!!”

It’s usually in the mornings, when he’s busy packing your lunch for work. “Yeah, love!” He awaits your response, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he hears something clatter, quickly followed by a loud curse.

“What-ow-what’s the temperature today?!” Another clatter, another curse, and he’s sticking your sandwhich in a plastic bag, placing it intricately inside your lunchbox. He does this every morning that he’s able. There’s a very specific way he goes about putting it all in there, and a very specific snack for each meal category. Some might call him a chump, but he calls it being a good friend. Cause he’s NOT your boyfriend

“Warm and sunny sweet’art! But bring a jacket, yea?!”

“Okay!” The next slam is loud, and if it wasn’t for your typical clumsiness, he’d have assumed you’d died just a little bit.

His large shoulders shake with a rumble of laughter as he zips your lunchbox, now moving to fill up your water bottle. “Alright in there?!”

“Yeah! Just-ow-can’t get my shoe on!”

He’d do the same thing tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and when he was deployed, he’d wake up every morning to a message- drum roll please -asking about the weather. When he couldn’t get to you in time, he’d always come back to find about a thousand texts from you.

okay since you’re not answering me i’m gonna go with sunny

no rainy

wait, it looks shiny outside, sunny

the next message would be a picture of you standing on the sidewalk in the rain, a thin pair of shoes on and no jacket.

nevermind, it was rainy

and cold

and wet

He’d laugh so loud the whole crew would think he’d gone mad.

told you to bring a jacket, love

Bubbles would pop up and then disappear, up and then disappear. Instead of the sassy attitude he expected in return, he found you simply just needing him.

when are you coming home :(

i need my weather man back

He could just tell you to download the app, but there was something about you wanting him to tell you that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’s whipped.

soft sex with simon riley

with a life as rough as simon's, he needs a sweet bird like you to come home to. soft and pliant under his calloused hands, his body weight pressing you further into the plush mattress.

you were so sweet to him, with warm food already cooking on the stove and a bathtub filled with warm water. your soft hands gentle in comparison to his rough ones as you caressed his face, washing the dirt and grime, fingertips smudging away the black around his eyes.

nails scratching through his short blond hair as his lashes fluttered, eyes waning shut with a low hum escaping his lips. content, a feeling simon rarely expressed, especially when he was in solitude.

but under the hands of his bird, all the tension seemed to dissipate from his skin as he let you work your hands over his face and body, scrubbing him clean back to the simon you knew.

he had to return the favor though. you were patient, caring and loving, the least he could do was treat you nicely as he lazily fucked himself into your achy cunt. his hips were languid, lips all over your skin. he kissed every inch of you as you lay bare for him, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, trails of saliva. he thumbed over your needy pearl, satiating his need for you as he indulged in your cunt all night.

blue collar!simon who every time you pass a building he’s worked on he’ll tell you about it.

“did that beauty right there.”

he’s so proud of his work.

calloused hands holding yours and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand as he promises that he’s gonna build you your dream home one day.

october reset starting tomorrow because it’s always better late than not at all :)

simon’s first instinct was always to protect you—before himself, before anyone or anything else. whether in dangerous situations or small, everyday moments, his reflexes kicked in without hesitation. every action was a subtle yet undeniable promise: i’ll always keep you safe.

sidewalk rule? it was non-negotiable. he always made sure he was between you and the street, shielding you from traffic. if you drifted too close to the curb, his hand would find the small of your back, guiding you firmly to his side.

“stay here,” he would murmur, his tone gentle yet resolute, as if daring the world to try anything.

whenever the car came to a sudden halt, simon’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you, bracing against your chest. the seatbelt should’ve been enough, but he never trusted anything more than his own reflexes.

“you alright?” he’d ask, his hand lingering just a little longer, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

in a crowded space, simon always led the way, carving a path with his broad frame. his hand would stay on yours or at your back, making sure you stayed close. and on a full train, he caged you in without hesitation, using his size to shield you from the press of strangers. his arms rested casually against the poles, but his stance was clear—no one would get too close.

whether you were climbing into the car or walking through a door, simon’s hand would always reach out to guide your head, ensuring you didn’t bump it. in the kitchen, he’d gently tilt your head away from open cabinets, all without thinking. it was pure instinct—small actions that spoke louder than words.

one night at 3 a.m., a car backfired down the street, the sound tearing through the stillness. before you could even react, simon had you pinned beneath him, his body shielding yours entirely. his heart raced, convinced it was a bomb. even after realizing it wasn’t, he didn’t let go, whispering against your ear, “i’ve got you, lovie.”

you could wear whatever you wanted—simon never cared. he wasn’t possessive, but confident. no one would dare glance too long in your direction, not with him at your side. and if anyone was foolish enough to try, one sharp look from simon was enough to make them think twice.

with simon, protection wasn’t just instinct—it was devotion. in every gesture, every glance, every step, he ensured you knew: your safety will always come first. because to simon, loving you meant keeping you safe—always, no matter the cost.

subtle things simon ‘ghost’ riley does for you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your first mission with simon ghost riley didn't go very well.

cw: smutty, ghosts a brat

the cell door you had been working to override had slammed in ghost's face, and at his attempt to open it, you could hear him mutter a curse under his breath.

"fuckin' hell."

"what happened?" you walked over to where he was, and once you tried to pull on the same door, you realized. you two were stuck in the cramped, dark and wet jail cell.

"fuck,” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"stop copying me, cunt."

"oh go to hell, ghost."

"no thanks, i'm trying to get as far away as possible from ya, baby."

you groan out in frustration and banged your head against one of the bars, the condensation sticking to your hair, and all ghost could do was chuckle at you.

"you're so fucking dense."

"eat shit," you hissed out as you swung a closed fist at his chest.

once you made contact, you knew that it was very possible it was your last moments before death.

simon crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at the floor while shaking his head, "tsk," he took a step towards you, "always gotta be so physical," he shoved you back, causing your body to slam against the brick wall.

and guess what? you shoved him the fuck back.

"if you think for one second," you shoved him again, this time pulling his shoulder strap down so he was at eye level with you, "that I'm gonna let you throw me around just cause you want to, you're fucking hilarious. you've got a lotta nerve to even think about touching me, let alone push me back when I've pushed you first-“

ghost grabbed both of your arms from the front of you and shoved them behind your back, pushing your tits out from your shirt and right below his face. he looked down at your cleavage before bouncing back to your eyes, "y'wanna know what I think?" he spat right down the valley of your breasts and watched his saliva snake down your shirt, "i think you like it."

you squirmed under his weight, under his eyes. "fuck. you."

"you. wish."

ghost wasn't an idiot. he could feel the way you were rubbing your thighs together, how your pupils were dilating by the second and the soft pants coming out of your mouth.

"I'm saying all this, baby 'cause I know, if I were to fuck you right now, you'd probably be the best pussy I'd felt in years. maybe ever. I'd wanna take you home and do it over and over again until you're gasping for a break. I'd feed you well. id take care of you. I would fucking love you until death. but that's not who I am, and that's sure as fuck not who you are."

you watched his eyes gaze down to your lips as he lowered his head to yours.

"why not?" you whispered.

"because, baby, I don't fuck women who don't want to. I like wet pussy, not scared pussy. I want it hard and rough but I don't wanna break you forever. and unfortunately, I'll bet you a million dollars that if I reached down and checked right now, your sweet pussy wouldn't be wet. not even close. right?"

you gulped as his fingers realized one of your wrists and snaked down the side of your thigh, "that's a lot of money."

he slithered his hand back up to your waist band before sneaking a finger inside, "isn't it?" you could barely hear his smirk through his words over the intense volume of your heartbeat. you knew for a fact, that someone just lost a lot of money.

as ghost swiped a finger down the middle of your panties, he groaned, "fuck, I'm gonna be bankrupt aren't I?"

"its a stupid bet to make after spitting on a woman's tits."

idk if yall missed my headcanons but i got bored and figured out which dog breed the 141 would be + co authored by my dog neek friend