#ghost cod x reader

Doing that routinely totally wasn’t your master plan on getting a light neck massage every morning

It wasn’t your fault it made you pass out

Then you would wake up to an arrangement of texts about 3 hours later

Good morning loves I hope you slept good

I’m in the mountains today which is ass

So bored

I love you

You would type a quick reply and then go to move your laundry over

Go to pack your lunch and see that he took the smaller portion even though he knew you made the larger one for him

So three energy drinks and the rest of the leftovers would get placed into your abnormally large lunch box

Simon said that size doesn’t matter

He had a tendency to underestimate the size of things

So you would go to work and start your shift, and for the first 5 hours or so it was radio silence

Then you would get called down to the garage

“Nurse Riley.” Simon would routinely greet, the stupidest smile gleaming on his face as he watched you walk into the garage. “Why is that a new pair of scrubs?” He would gasp, “In the wine color! The one you didn’t have before.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the papers from his hand, “Deputy Riley haven’t I informed you that it’s incredibly unprofessional to make remarks about my appearance?”

“Not your appearance, the scrubs!” His tone would drop to something a bit more monotone, “The 85 dollar scrubs.”

You smile up at him, “And I’ll do it again. Now who’s this?”

Cue a very confused and drunk arrestee staring at you both

Simon would get off work much earlier than you, very often at 2am while you got off at 6am

So you would have a very nice and long voice note to listen to while you charted at 3am

Most of it would be him ramblin about work

The rest would be him reminding him that he loves you

Then at about 6am you would get off and drive home

When you would get home you would drop your things off, wash up, and tip toe into your room

The blackout curtains only doing so much for the rising sun

So you slowly crawl into the bed

And like a fly in a Venus fly trap, as soon as your weight is felt on his arm Simon quickly pulls you in

Face buried in your chest and you attempt to try and talk

No luck

Man is out cold

Yet is still able to make blunt responses like: mm i loves more

And then…you would rinse and repeat until the week end hit

And then your favorite part well, one of your favorite parts

Caffeine

Admittedly, you drove a bit fast. And admittedly, as your car tended to make a large droning like noise when you drove and your stereo was broken, you drove with an earbud in

Which is maybe why at 5:25pm about 3 minutes away from the jail you were pulled over in the 45mph probably going a solid 55mph

And probably why you didn’t pull over until you began to slow down for the light

You look at the flashing lights in the rear view mirror, ripping the earbud out and throwing it into your passenger seat, and around the same time you reached into your work bag trying to grab your wallet- then you drop your wallet into the crack of your seat- and stupidly, you basically fold over the center console to reach for it-

“Oh fuck me-“ you reach down, almost able to grab it before you hear a nice grunt and knock on your window

You worked with cops, you know how to handle a traffic stop and DEFINITELY know how to act

You jerk upwards, yipping in terror as if you weren’t expecting it and then almost turning completely over in your seat.

“Hey, Missy, wanna roll down the window?”

Simon!

…Simon

You dumbly stare at him as if you weren’t expecting an officer at your window, chest unreasonably heaving for a non-traffic related reason. “I-fuck-window,” you push yourself up and roll the window down, “Hey, Deputy Riley.”

“Hi, Missy.”

You blink and give a shaky laugh, “I don’t have a gun-whoa-that’s probably not what I should open-I dropped my wallet and I was looking for it I don’t believe in guns-or i-I don’t own one, I-I think they’re important for like uh-uh ya know you guys I’m-but no I don’t have-I’m…just gonna let you arrest me.”

“Missy, why’d you think I wanna cuff ya?”

That put some very inappropriate thoughts in your mind. And maybe your face showed it a bit too much.

“Uh-you-ticket? I’ll take the ticket.”

Simon leaned against your car door, forearm terrifyingly close to you, the dark green of the uniform rolled up to his elbows. The current skin showing having years worth of healed ink. “Now if I did that isn’t it likely you would force poor Josie to clear the guy imma bring in later?”

“Are you planning your med clearance now, Si?” Oops, that didn’t mean to slip.

He chuckled, a slight smile forming over his face, “Eh, I was thinking a good broken leg.”

“That sounds premeditated to me.”

“Nono, previous.”

“Oooooh, 10-4.” You look over back to your work bag and take a short breath, “So…am I…?”

“What if I wanna talk to you some more?”

You scoff, “Since when?”

“Well it ain’t my fault you run away like a mouse after 5 minutes.” He retorted.

“Well sorry you got a silly way of showing you wanna be friends.”

He nodded, “Well, this is uh…my formal request to be friends.”

You keep his gaze for a moment and then bite back the stupidest grin, “Uh, I’ll talk to you later, Si.”

He taps the car as he takes a step away, “Missy.”

One is the classic: Additional. Which normally means they need more deputies because someone is being a bit too silly or as Josie would say: sassy.

Then sometimes there would be: medical backup. Which as one would assume, it’s a medical incident. Most often including a withdrawal seizure, someone falling, or an unrelated injury.

Then there would be a general backup call often just saying “Additional to ____” no one truly understood who was needed but the general consensus is that people are needed.

Then the holy trifecta: additional and medical to ____

While deputies ran past you to get to the booking island and holding space you did more of a quick saunter

Didn’t do anyone good if you were winded when you got there

“Do you think he fell?” Josie yipped from beside you, your quick walks slowly as you reached the interview room

Josie, a new grad nurse and former paramedic, was extremely well versed in emergency medicine and was very composed on scene- however in any other scenario she was basically a stereotypical 18 year old girl who happened to be 25.

As you were about to respond your eyes track to see a patrol deputy pulled out of the room, the red flashing light of the body cam the first thing you noticed and then the bloody brow. Then it tracked: Riley.

“Uh-take care the guy, Jos.” You almost mumble the words as you move to push your way through the officers to where Riley was being brought.

They stopped at the end of the hall, a sergeant, Johnny and Simon (as you recently learned) Simon’s brow spilt as he cussed about the arrestee.

“Fuckin’ dick can’t do shit, ask’ him one thing and he fuckin lunged at me.”

You chose to slowly approach, “need medical?”

“Need a beer.” Johnny quipped as he checked his bodycam.

Simon looks to you, gaze that was arguably one of the harshest ones you had seen ever so slightly softening, or maybe just…like, being nice. Yeahhh, he’s being nice. “Sorry, Missy. ‘M okay.”

You give him a look, shoving you hand into your scrub pocket and pulling out a pen light and oddly enough some gauze (magic you supposed or maybe from the stitches you had to pull out earlier) with a careful hand you move to lightly touch the skin above his brow. Completely unnoticed to you on how he lowered his head down to you touch (totally unnoticed why would you notice, it’s not like you’re obsessed with him…or something) “Can I ask what happened?”

He grunted, “Sonnabitch had a brass knuckle up his ass and pulled em out.”

There was a pause, “You’re fucking with me right? They didn’t catch that on-“

“M jokin with you. He just landed a good one.”

You hum, “Better than shit covered brass.”

Johnny let out a laugh, making his presence known as you shined the bright light into Simon’s eyes, checking the reaction time of them- “o tha’ be ass-!!! In both ways!”

You take a step back, placing your light in your pocket, “I think you’re okay, Si.” Oop, why’d he look at you like that? His eyes met yours almost within a nano-oooh, he never told you his name and you just used it. Fuck, do you look like stalker now? oh shit- “But I would go get a checkup when you can.”

Simon nodded, “I could just check in tomorrow night.”

“Heh,” you force a laugh, “I don’t work.”

“Neither do I.”

There was a pause

And before you could respond you hear your name yelled along with: “I need some extra hands.” From Josie.

Well shit.

Heheheheh

So, of course, he spent his afternoon searching up gift ideas instead of reviewing the latest sparring schedules. It started with a fairly vague search.

How do you choose a birthday gift?

He clicked link after link, advice ranging from checking through their things to find out what needed replacing, to just getting something that screamed them. Simon wasn't sure what the latter meant, but the first one made him hesitate.

Last Tuesday he had practically launched himself into the kitchenette when a loud crash echoed out from the space, his mind flipping directly into fight mode. Whatever he had been expecting to see, it was nothing compared to the utterly heartbroken look on your face as you stared down at the pieces of shattered ceramic littering the floor. Your favourite mug had slipped from your grasp and had not survived the fall. You'd brushed it off, a smile much too forced on your lips as you swept the pieces up.

It was the first time your smile had caused his heart to stutter in a way he didn't enjoy, a sad expression that didn't fit your usually chipper attitude. You'd ended up using one of the spare mugs in the cupboard ever since, some dull beige thing with the name of a random company stamped onto the side.

Something practical. Something that needed replacing. Maybe this gift thing wasn't that difficult at all.

•••

Simon was in hell.

He hadn't been able to get away for the rest of the day, dragged into a sudden meeting with Price and a few of the higher ups that lasted hours. By the time he'd managed to escape, it had been too late. Which is why the next day, after he had managed to wrangle Soap into covering his afternoon sparring drills with the greenies, he found himself in the middle of a giftshop that was bursting with pastels and cute stationary. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a mass of shadow surrounded by items so dainty looking he was hesitant to pick anything up.

He had been staring at a shelf of cat themed mugs for ten minutes.

Not because he hadn't chosen one. He'd decided the moment he'd set his eyes on them that he'd be purchasing the one that looked like your cat, the somewhat distrusting calico that he had barely caught a glimpse of just before he had left you to unpack your new apartment. No, the issue was it didn't seem like enough. What secret message would a mug send? It seemed like such a small thing, much to small in comparison to the effect you had on him daily.

"Would you like me to wrap one of these up for you?" She had moved so silently, Simon actually startled, head whipping around towards the elderly woman. She smiled warmly at him, silver hair tucked up into a neat bun and a floral printed apron smooth over her long skirt. "They're cute wee things. The part on top actually doubles as a coaster. Or a small plate if you're like me and enjoy a nice biscuit with your tea."

She spoke to him like he didn't look like a massive heathen in the middle of the boutique. He nodded slowly, pointing to the black and orange patterned ceramic.

"Yea… that one there if that's a'right."

She beamed, pulling the box from the shelf and continuing to chat, tucking the mug into the tissue paper. "My daughter insisted on these when we found them. Said all cat owners love finding small things that look like their little babies. You have just the one?"

Simon blinked in disbelief. "Have one… baby?"

"A cat, dear." She chuckled, patting his arm lightly.

"Oh, erm… no. S'not for me."

The woman practically lit up like the last time Johnny got to use C4. "A gift then? For a special someone?"

If he'd been wearing his usual balaclava, it would have better shielded the blush that flooded his cheeks, but he had elected for the basic medical mask since he had wanted to avoid scaring every civilian on the sidewalk.

The flush on his face only seemed to encourage the older woman, a twinkle in her eye as she placed the lid on the small box. "Do they know they're a special someone yet?"

Simon had never felt so transparent and easily read in his life. If the shop owner ever wanted to join up, she'd make a hell of an interrogator.

"Not…" He pressed his lips together for a moment. "D'you have… any suggestions?"

He trailed after her to the front as she reached behind the counter, pulling out a giftbag and a spool of ribbon. "Well, what kind of gift is it?" She hummed, carefully slipping the box into the paper bag.

"Birthday."

"Well, I can't say what your special someone would enjoy, but I always think birthdays call for something sweet." She carefully curled the ribbons, fixing the curls to the bag. "Though my husband always swore by flowers."

"Flowers die though." He stated bluntly, and it got a loud laugh from her as she slid the bag towards him.

"Very true."

When Simon pulled out his wallet, he was left baffled when she shook her head. "Don't worry about it, dear. It was the last one on display."

He paused, before gingerly picked up the giftbag, utterly confused by the whole interaction. "Thanks…"

It was when he was halfway out the door that she waved him off with a chipper, "Good luck!".

When he got back to base that evening, Simon was sat at the desk pushed against the far wall in his quarters, staring down at the cluttered surface. His conversation with the woman from the gift shop had caused him to do something possibly foolish. He didn't even know if he would be able to pull it off, but with a quiet huff, he got to work.

•••

He hadn't been able to psych himself up to the point of handing you the gift in person, so he resorted to his old standby of leaving it on your desk, dead center for when you arrived to base that morning. He would've been lying if he said he hadn't been loitering around the administration block and occasionally peering in. He felt almost jittery. He'd faced men bigger than him wielding knives, and even rappelled from the top of a skyscraper, but giving you a gift had him a mess.

It was his third circle through the corridor when he caught sight of your familiar jacket, slowing and peeking through the doorway as you came to a stop at your desk. It was torture, waiting for you to move at all, your body faced away so he couldn't gage your expression. Did you hate it? Was it a foolish decision? Should he go find Price and demand to be sent on the next long term op that became available?

You slid your jacket off, before stepping forward finally, sitting down in your chair.

You were beaming.

Atop your desk, placed with care, was the cute cat themed mug already holding your usual tea. Not only that, but beside it resting on the lid was a small decorated cupcake. And the part that Simon had been most nervous about, fingers sporting several papercuts from his attempt to get it right, was a small bundle of carefully folded paper flowers.

When you glanced up, looking to the doorway where you thought you saw a shadow from the corner of your eye, it was already gone.

And Simon had a noticeable bounce to his step on his way to his morning briefing.

(Simon's gifts to reader on their birthday)