Hii ya'll!! I'm Rho. I go by she/her. Bisexual. And new here on Tumblr. I write fics and imagines of Call of Duty's - Simon Riley. Let me know if you have requests for any other character of Cod fandom.
ISRAELIS PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME YOU DISGUSTING PESTS.
Please Let me know if any of the links below is broken. I'll update it 🐛
How to navigate :
#semwrites for oneshots
#semimagines for imagines
What I won't write aka my big ass No-Nos:
misogyny and transhate/ I dont fw omegaverse (idk what it is + I can make him a cockroach at most)/ homophobia is not tolerated/ any sort of non-con.
I JUST EDITED A POST AND WHEN I CLICKED "SAVE TO DRAFTS" IT DISAPPEARED AND A POPUP CAME "SOMETHING FLUBBED TRY AGAIN". I AM STARTING TO HATE TUMBLR SO FUCKING MUCH.
Cause where did it go tumblr? Up your ass or what!!
(also yes please do write a fic where ghost is a cockroach)
So far I've written only fluff and blurbs. But I am open to writing smut. It's just that I don't have any original ideas yet...but I will be happy to have requests for it.
Sorry ya'll, I couldn't post the new chapter of Sarg Wife × Jealous Simon.
Because I am having troubles with cooking gas availability. The shortage is all across my country thanks to America.
So a big fuck you to America and Americans. I'm beyond angry at how people there carry on living while others suffer because of their stupid war.
Writing a fic is the least of my concerns rn. Knowing there are very few desi readers on this app. I refuse to cater to the larger audience of Americans and their stupidity. Fuck this shit.
For rest of you all, I think this is a small break guys. I'll see u all lovies verryy soon 💗
P.s - Sending love to everyone in the Middle East and South Asian countries. This too shall pass. Stay safe and healthy.🥹🌷
Sorry ya'll, I couldn't post the new chapter of Sarg Wife × Jealous Simon.
Because I am having troubles with cooking gas availability. The shortage is all across my country thanks to America.
So a big fuck you to America and Americans. I'm beyond angry at how people there carry on living while others suffer because of their stupid war.
Writing a fic is the least of my concerns rn. Knowing there are very few desi readers on this app. I refuse to cater to the larger audience of Americans and their stupidity. Fuck this shit.
For rest of you all, I think this is a small break guys. I'll see u all lovies verryy soon 💗
P.s - Sending love to everyone in the Middle East and South Asian countries. This too shall pass. Stay safe and healthy.🥹🌷
A/N : This is pure chaos. Enjoy it guys I wrote this on 2 hours of sleep. Likes, reblogs and comments are more than apprecisted. And if you see a grammatical error or a spelling mistake - NO YOU DON'T.
Masterlist 🌊🏖️
It was a beach date with him.
The same beach you’d chewed his ear off about for weeks.
"I need to get there" you’d insisted. "It’s so serene. It’s literally on my bucket list."
Simon - huge, broad, built like the sea itself might bounce off him sighed.
"Aye, alright. Christ. If I hear 'serene' one more time…"
Now the sun was sinking low, the sky painted in the prettiest shades of pink and orange. Soft. Unreal. Serene.
If this wasn’t heaven, then what was?
You smiled, padding out into the waves, skirt fluttering as the wind teased at it. You lifted your phone, snapping photos.
"Don’t go gettin’ soaked" Simon called from behind you. "I ain’t carryin’ you back."
You laughed. "You absolutely would."
He snorted. "Push yer luck, woman."
You were mid-photo when you heard sand crunch behind you. Heavy steps. Familiar ones.
You turned.
Simon Riley...Simon 'Ghost' Riley - mountain of a man - was down on one knee. The man who won't ever kneel save for the time he had to tie his shoelaces.
You froze.
"…Simon?"
He was holding a greasy paper bag of fries???
You blinked. Once. Twice.
You walked closer, squinting down at him.
"Why are you on the ground?"
Beat.
"…Do you need the toilet?"
"For fucks sake" he muttered. "Could you not ruin the moment?"
"But do you need the toilet?"
"I do not need the toilet!"
"Because this looks medical" you frown looking at his face.
He huffed. "Just come here."
He shifted, one knee up, fiddling with the bag. "Just hold on, yeah?"
And then ---
WHOOSH.
A seagull dropped from the sky like a missile and snatched the fry bag straight out of his hand, feet kicking as it took off.
And you lost it.
"Oh my God" you laughed, already filming. "Si!!! DID YOU SEE THAT?"
"Hehe, cute bird!" you giggled into your phone. "This was epic. Never thought it’d happen to us!"
Simon stood up slowly. Very slowly.
His eyes followed the bird, wide and unblinking, like he’d just spotted an enemy sniper.
"Oh no" he breathed.
You glanced at him. "Why do you look like you’re about to throw hands with the sky? Are you sad love. I'll buy you another one".
But he stood there frozen.
You laughed. "Simon, are you genuinely scared of a bird the size of your palm?"
"That weren’t just fries" he said quietly.
You paused. "…What?"
"That weren’t fries."
You grinned. "Chips, then?"
"That was your engagement ring" he swallowed. Hard.
The world tilted and your laughter died instantly.
"…Excuse me?"
"It’s in the bag" he rushed. "I thought - right...I..I..I thought if I hid it in fries you wouldn’t poke yer nose in an’ get suspicious. Not my fault you're a dangerously curious woman."
You stared at him in horror.
"…You hid my engagement ring in CHIPS??"
"Sound idea at the time! I thought you wouldn’t poke around!" he screamed putting his hands up.
Your shock wore off and it hit you - The fries, the ring, the bird.
"YOU STUPID FUCKING BIRD!!!!" You screamed.
And then you ran dropping your phone.
Barefoot. Ferocious. Fully feral.
You tore down the beach after the seagull, shrieking louder than that winged bastard could -
"DROP IT! DROP IT RIGHT NOW!"
People froze. Conversations died. Phones came out.
Sunbathers lifted their heads as a tiny woman sprinted past, shrieking, while a massive man thundered after her.
"LOVE! WAIT!! STOP!!!"
You did not stop. This was a matter of life or death for you.
You ran straight over some bloke’s ass as he lay face-down.
"Ow!"
"MOVE!"
Simon ploughed through behind you, accidentally demolishing a kid’s sandcastle. Hell it was two-storey with a balcony.
"Mama!!" the kid screamed. "OGRE ON THE BEACH!"
Phones were out. Fingers pointed. Chaos bloomed. Simon could swear he saw you run over some old ladys homemade muffins at one point.
"Love!" Simon yelled. "They always drop it! Just-just slow down!'
"No!" you screamed back. "It’s a criminal bird!"
The seagull finally landed on top of a beach hoarding. You skidded to a halt, chest heaving.
Simon reached you seconds later, hands on his knees. "Christ almighty" he panted. "You’re five foot nothin’ and pure menace."
He rattled the support pillars. Nothing.
He sighed. "Aight. We’ll wait."
You turned slowly.
"Oh ffuck no."
Before he could stop you, you grabbed a massive parasol from a fruit vendor.
"Oi-don’t!!"
Too late bitch.
You started jumping and whacking the hoarding like a possessed goblin.
"Jesus" an old lady muttered to the crowd. "Pair of gremlins, those two."
It still didn’t work....
You shrieked and hurled the parasol.
The bird dodged. The audacity.
Then finally, it peeked into the bag, realised there were no fries left, and dropped it.
You dove and caught it.
Silence.
You looked around at the wreckage.
"…Simon?"
He stepped closer, voice suddenly soft. "Gimme it, lovie. We’ve got an audience now. I’ll do it proper."
He took the bag, knelt and pulled out the ring.
It was perfect. The prettiest ring ever with your birthstone on it...no diamonds. You hate diamonds. And he remembered as always.
Your eyes filled instantly.
"Will you be my wife" he asked, voice low and Mancunian and sincere, "My forever?"
You nodded, laughing and crying as he slid it onto your finger. Fucking hell you earned that ring.
The beach erupted: cheers, claps, a few annoyed grumbles.
He cupped your face in his massive hands. " I love you, you daft woman."
"I love you too, Si."
He kissed your forehead...and flinched.
" You’ve gotta be jokin."
Something wet slid down his head and onto your nose.
You both looked up.
The seagull flew off.
Simon sighed. "I’m fightin’ God next."
You laughed into his chest. Best proposal ever.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
P.S : Yes he got a little seagull tattooed on his bicep to tease her. There were videos of her running like a little demon on beach, thanks to strangers. And they got fries banned. Not Simon googling 'Are seagulls edible' after the incident.
Simon bloody! Riley who eats like every meal you make is his last on Earth.
Hell, he would lick his fingers clean and swipe the plate with his thumb.
“Si” you laugh scandalised by his table manners.
“What?” he grunts, already reaching for you instead of the sink. “Said it were good, didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t mean you lick the plate!”
“Saves water,” he shrugs before hauling you up like you weigh nothing.
You smack his chest, giggling. “Put me down –kitchen”
“Bedroom,” he corrects.
“Food was good. Wanna thank the chef proper.”
...and he does. Always does. Kissing you stupid until you forget what you were even laughing about in the first place.
But.
There’s one thing.
One absolute, non-negotiable line.
Onions. Onions.
“Put that knife down.”
You blink at him from the chopping board, already halfway through peeling one. “It’s just”
“Put. it. down.”
The look on his face is ridiculous. This massive, terrifying man who’s seen war and walked through it like it owed him money was now staring at a vegetable like it personally offended him.
“They make you cry,” he mutters, already stalking over.
You snort. “Everyone cries, Simon. It’s normal.”
“Not you.”
He takes the knife from your hand, ties on that stupid flowery apron your mum got him (which he pretends to hate but never actually takes off), and squares up to the onions like he’s about to interrogate them.
“Fucking useless things,” he grumbles, slicing into one with unnecessary aggression.
You lean against the counter, watching, amused. “You know you don’t –”
“Shh.”
“Simon!!”
“Shh, woman. Let me do me job.”
His eyes are already watering but he refuses to acknowledge it. Aww he looked adorable sniffling as his pretty brown eyes water. A pretty crier for sure.
“Your eyes–”
“Shut it.”
“You’re crying.”
“Am not.” Yeah he was openly sniffling now.
He pauses just long enough to shoot you a look. “These are tactical tears.”
You burst out laughing. Grinning you hug him from behind as he carries on chopping.
But in his head, he’s somewhere else.
A smaller kitchen. Earlier days. Both of you lived in a small rental place. He had just started training under 141 while you got a new job. But that small house was everything. He remembers the day he walked in and saw you hunched over the counter, shoulders shaking. Eyes red, tears spilling, knife abandoned.
He’d panicked. Proper panicked. Thought someone hurt you while he was gone for training.
“Who did that?”
“What?” you’d sniffed.
“Tell me who–”
“Simon, it’s just the onions. These ones are too strong!!”
He hadn’t believed you at first. Thought you were covering for something, someone. Thought he’d walked in too late.
He remembers how his chest had tightened. How his fingers shook as he pulled you into a crushing hug while you sniffled.
And he remembers thinking: never again.
Back in the present, he finishes chopping, shoves the board aside, and turns to you.
“All done.”
You smile, softer now. “Thank you.”
He just grunts, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just go to war with a vegetable for you.
Later, when dinner’s done and you’re tucked into him, he presses kisses all over your face –cheeks, nose, eyelids.
“Simon” you whine, squirming. “Stop. I'm sleepy love”
“Didn’t cry today,” he murmurs against your skin.
You huff. “Because you’re dramatic.”
He hums, unconvinced, still kissing you. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Means I did it right.”
You roll your eyes, but your hands slide up his arms anyway, holding him there.
And he stays.
Because yeah - he’ll eat anything you make, lick the plate clean, carry you off like it’s instinct -
...but onions?
Those are his job. Always have been.
And later on you both have a small wee baby girl who throws tantrums and hates onions soo very much. She starts crying the moment she even sees them in grocery bag. Oh god it was as if she inherited the hatred from her idiot dad.
You swear you just saw Simon holding her steady on his lap as he handpicks and removes every small onion piece from her food.
"Mum loves em for no reason. They are proper bad aren't they angel", he mumbles as she nods shoving spoonful into her little mouth. Her chubby face lighting up as she notices you standing.
You just glare and roll your eyes at the duo waging war against a vegetable.
yo can i get uhhhh more simon x desi reader pls something nsfw with mentions of bangles and payals and shit on the side pretty pleaaaasseeeee (whenever you have time no pressure love tc ily muah)
I think I'll be posting Sarg's wife × Simon next.
But I did write one desi fic earlier.
It's here 💗🌷
Ily too anon. I might write some nsfw stuff later on. 👀
Enjoyyy guyss. For non-desi readers : Sometimes married women in here hide names of their husbands or lovers in their henna. And the harder it is to find - the stronger love will be....a cute asf thing to do!!!
Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. 🦢
Masterlist 🌷
Simon Riley who goes dead quiet the moment you come back with fresh mehendi, still darkening on your palms, smelling like earth and something sweeter. His eyes drop straight to your palms.
“…that for me, that?” he walks closer, already reaching for you.
You barely get a laugh out before he’s hauling you into his lap with his thumbs hovering over the patterns like they might smudge. (They will idiot)
“Si baby, I need to sleep.”
“Yeah? Sleep here then.” he mutters, dragging you closer and hooking his chin over your shoulder. God this will be a long night huh.
“Ain’t movin’ till I find it.”
You swat at him grinning. “You’re insane.”
“Shut it.” he grumbles tilting your wrist toward the light.
He squints. “Where’s it then?”
You blink. “Where’s what?”
“Don’t play daft.” His thumb brushes dangerously close to the design. He never touched it deliberately until it dried. Not when he knows it’ll smudge.
“Me name. You always hide it.”
You smile teasing him, “Maybe I didn’t put it this timeee.”
He glares and ignores what you just said. He'll be damned if you didn't hide his name in henna patterns this time.
Hours. Actual hours. He holds you for two straight hours.
You’re half-dozing against his chest, his stubble scratching your temple, while he traces every swirl like it’s a map. Every now and then –
“that an S?”
“No.”
“…looks like one.”
“It’s a leaf, Simon.”
“Shite leaf then.”
You laugh softly, your eyelids growing heavier. “Si… seriously…bed”
“Nah.” he presses a kiss to your knuckles without looking away.
“Be worth it when I find it.”
And when he does...oh boy.
It’s like a switch flips.
“–there. There!!!” his breath catches, rough, almost disbelieving. “Tha’s mine. That’s me.”
Before you can even react he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, dragging your hands up like something sacred, kissing your palms over and over. You are swaying from sleep while he is acting rabid.
“Oi! Simon–!”
“Mine.” he mutters against your skin. Jesus even his voice goes soft. “Got me name on you… fuckin’ hell…”
His thumb presses over the letters, like he’s memorizing the exact feel of it. He looks up at you then with such sweet hopeful eyes.
“–this permanent, yeah?”
You pause.
Because you know it isn’t. You know it’ll fade in a week.
But he’s looking at you like this means something carved in bone. Something his...finally something permanent.
“…yeah.” you whisper anyway. Stupid Bri*ish man.
He exhales like you just handed him the world.
“Good.” he murmurs, kissing your palms again, slower now, almost reverent. “S’how it should be.”
And after that?
You start getting it done every week.
Different patterns. More intricate. Hiding his name deeper each time just to watch him lose his mind all over again.
Leaning back with his arms crossed and oh that smug edge in his voice as the lads try to ignore him-
“Missus got my name on her hands.”
Soap snorts. “Aye? Painted it on yerself, did she?”
Simon just smirks. “Nah. Proper done. All pretty an’ that–flowers n’ shite round it.”
You walk past and he catches your wrist immediately, dragging your hand up for them to see. You gasp being stopped midway with him showing your palm to the room. Like it's some damn museum artwork.
“Look at it.” he orders, like it’s not a suggestion.
“You’re embarrassing!!” you hiss trying to pull away.
“Good.” he cuts in, pressing a kiss right over where his name sits hidden.
“Next time, hide it better, yeah? Wanna see how long it takes me.”
So I am working out these days. At home but I do have few dumbells. You know what I realised - it's hard finding stuff on internet designed just for women. Most of it is so intense and does not focus on our cycle and stuff.
So what all videos or creators do you girlies recommend?? 🥹💗
