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writersdrug · 23 hours

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Simon Riley x DogSitter!Reader pt. 4

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Warnings: Cursing, caught half-naked (don't get ya knickers in a twist, it's not by Simon), possessive behaviour, pining

A/N: Good morning! typed this up last night, wanted to post it but Tumblr mobile hates it when I try to edit my drafts. but I cracked open my computer and got it finished! enjoy the day! xoxo

"You need to stay still." You said quietly, your hands gently laying on Riley's stomach as she lay on her back. Her eyes flickered between you and your hands curiously with a nervous look on her face. Her tail swished, brushing with a whoosh against the unkempt grass of Simon's backyard.

"Good- play dead, good..." You slowly removed your hands, placing them against your thighs as you knelt next to her. "And stay-"

As soon as your hands left her fur, she twisted back onto her feet and sat upright. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, looking at you for the next command.

"No!" You cried, holding the sides of her face and pointing her snout towards you. "You just had it! C'mon, we've got to get this down - need to show off your skills at the dog park, yeah?"

You flopped down on your back and raised your arms in the air. Riley took a few steps back and stared at you - her toe was pointed in anticipation. She had no idea what you were doing.

"Like this-" you said, "Play dead." You rolled back onto your knees, giggling at the flabbergasted expression on her face. "Really- it's easy, let's give it one more go."

You guided her to lay down again - she huffed, seemingly annoyed with whatever it was you were trying to do. She let you roll her onto her back, her legs awkwardly sticking out straight. You tutted and bent her paws at each ankle.

"Good. Sta- stay." You said as she tried to wiggle up. You kept your hands on her belly again, and she boredly looked at the blue sky above.

"Good, Riley. Play dead." You slowly sat back on your haunches, and she managed to stay put. She looked at you upside-down as you fished a few treats from your pocket.

"Stay..." You cooed, holding the treats up to her muzzle. "Good. Play dead."

She gently lapped up the treats when you opened your palm, chewing noisily and looking back at you for direction. She remained on the ground, feet pointed in the air and her tail still.

"Ok, Riley." You said, and she scrambled back onto her feet. "Now, let's try again. Play dead."

She looked at you, tilting her head in confusion. You could see the gears turning, and your skin was nearly on fire with anticipation. "Play dead." You repeated slowly, pointing towards the ground.

Sure enough, she sank to the floor. When she saw the excitement growing in your eyes, she rolled onto her back, letting her legs relax above her.

"Good girl!!" You squealed, rubbing her belly and her face and showering her with kisses - she groaned and yapped, hurriedly getting back up onto her feet.

"Oh, you're so good, Riley!" You exclaimed and handed her a few more treats. She scarfed them down in a matter of seconds as her tail thwapped against the ground.

You felt proud of her - and of yourself. You'd never really considered yourself an actual dog-sitter before. But now, after this achievement, you felt like the dog-sitter.

"Mitchell had better watch his sorry ass..." You stated, standing up and brushing your hands on your thighs. You paused when you felt something cold - you turned to look over your shoulder, and sure enough, your entire back and rump were covered in mud. You sighed, looking back down at where you had laid in the grass. There was a decently sized mud puddle, with the perfect imprint of your torso and backside.

"Oh, for Christ's sake-" you grumbled, trudging back towards the house. Riley hopped through the doorway and made a beeline straight to her water bowl. She lapped up the water messily as you toed off your sneakers, leaving them by the backdoor. You closed the door behind you and groaned as the damp fabric clung to your skin.

"Just my bloody luck." You murmured. You began peeling your clothes off in the hall, starting with your socks, then your sweatshirt, then your top. You were just about to shimmy out of your jeans, when you heard Riley whine.

Turning around, you saw her walking- no, limping, to her dog bed. She groaned as she shuffled around, scratching at the fabric, before plopping down onto the plush cushion.

"Y' feeling alright, girl?" You asked, and she turned her snout towards you. "Time for some medicine, hmm?"

You padded into the kitchen, grabbing her medicine from the counter and popping a pill into your palm. You stole a jar of peanut butter from Simon's cupboard and scooped a spoonful, shoving the pill into the sticky glob and heading back to the living room. "Don't worry-" you said, holding the spoon down to her as she licked it greedily. "I won't count this as one of your daily cookies."

You felt a chill against your bare back - you looked up, noticing that the AC vent was positioned right above Riley's bed.

"Well, that can't be good..." You grumbled. You quickly ran and snagged a worn-out blanket (decorated with bones and tennis balls, most likely from when she was a puppy) from the hall closet, before returning and draping it over her. She let out a wary groan as you tucked in the edges, cocooning her in a layer of felt.

"Need t' make sure you're not too chilly-" you said, securing her under the blanket. "That cold doesn't help your leg, does it?"

She made a content sound and sank her head down onto the cushion, making you chuckle. "There, isn't that much be-"

You stood back up, your sentence interrupted by your own panic. The mailman was outside the front window, staring right back at you. He was frozen, eyes wide with a shocked flush on his cheeks, as he was putting the mail in Simon's box.

In a fit of horror, you glanced down at yourself, being met with the sight of your shirtless torso and jeans. You shrieked in embarrassment and ran into the hall, quickly throwing yourself into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

Riley tilted her head as she watched down the hall, the sound of your "Fucking hell!!" Echoing from beyond the bathroom door - she flopped hear head back onto the cushion and sighed.

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The cot groaned and creaked beneath Simon as he dropped himself onto it. He tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to him, letting his arm hang over the edge for a moment. His entire body ached - he had let himself relax too much on his time off with Riley, and had nearly forgotten just how rough this job was on his bones.

"Never thought we'd be back 'ere, eh?" Soap said, trudging into the small dorm. "Alejandro said we're always welcome on 'is base, but I ken he meant other circumstances."

Simon groaned in agreement. "Brings back memories, eh?"

Soap scoffed. "If ye say so, LT. Rott'n ones, that's fer sure."

"A' least it's over."

Soap grunted. "Gonna celebrate with a cup o' joe." He said, rolling out his shoulders with a pop. "Need me t' grab ye some?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Like to try n' get some sleep 'fore we head home."

"Suit yourself, LT." Soap said, before he left Simon alone in the dorm.

He sighed heavily. Simon was lying to himself if he thought he was going to get any sleep. During the entire mission (save the parts where he was snapping a bloke's neck, or planting bullets in bodies), he couldn't stop thinking about Riley - which was also a lie. Truthfully, he couldn't stop thinking of the both of you.

Were you treating her well? Did you end up using his shower? Did you remember her medicine? Did you use the throw blanket when you slept on his sofa? What did you two do all week? What did you do all week?

It was hard to realize that he'd only seen you in person twice, with the way that he was constantly plagued by you. You and your overly-bright and bold personality. He wondered if you'd be there when he gets back home, or if you'd-

Oh, right. He'd be home tomorrow night. He'd forgotten to text you. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed up a message.

coming home tomorrow evening. it'll be late. don't worry about being there, but if you are, that's fine.

He hoped you would be there, he thought, as he sent the message, letting the phone drop onto his chest.

Not a minute had passed that Simon had fought with his own mind, when his phone buzzed. He pulled the screen back above his face and opened the message from you.

Glad to hear you're back safe!

Buzz

If you are actually back, I guess I don't know where you are...

Buzz

Anyways, that's fine! I'll walk Riley around 7 pm, she's good after that until bedtime

Buzz

Of course, you know that, she's YOUR dog after all, lol

Buzz

Get back safe! And I mean get HOME, not just wherever you are right now!

He stared at each message as it popped up, one after another. You must type fast - and god, were you annoying... but he didn't hate it. He should hate it, he'd hated every other person he'd run into with your attitude. But he felt the depth and the honesty in your words, even over text. It was aggravating him, but instead of stomping your sparks out, he wanted to hide them in his dark corner, where no one else could see just how bright you were.

Shut the fuck up, he thought. Man whore.

He began to reply to your message, thick fingers struggling to tap away at the tiny screen.

How are my girls?

Fuck- backspace, backspace- Christ, that was a close one.

How's my girl?

Send.

He groaned, staring at the screen, hungrily waiting for you to respond. He thought of the sound of your nails clacking away on your phone. What would you say? "Good"? "Fine"? "She's sleeping"? He wished you'd go on another tangent, stringing him along in a conversation where one message hardly had anything to do with the last.

Buzz

You sent a photo.

Simon's chest felt tight with anticipation - he hurriedly clicked on the image to make it bigger.

It was you and Riley, both lying on the couch. You were curled up against the arm of the sofa, wearing your pajamas and tucked under his throw blanket with a book in your hand. Your hair was down, and a bit damp, too. Riley was cozied up to your side, her snout resting in your lap. The both of you looked up into the camera - you, with a sweet, soft smile that nearly put Simon in cardiac arrest.

Doing good! I think she likes it when I read to her!

Simon exhaled heavily through his nose. You read to the dog- of course you fucking read to the dog. Why was that attractive? Why was he so warmed by your matching daisy pajamas? By the mug of tea on the coffee table (in his mug, which made it worse)? By the way Riley was so comfortable around you?

How were you doing this to him - infiltrating his brain so easily, consuming it like a weed? A beautiful, elegant weed?

He groaned and laid his phone on his chest, rubbing his eyes. He let his palms linger over the sockets for a moment. Something must be wrong with him. Simon was never so easily distracted by anything, let alone anyone. Had he gotten soft on his time off? Was this some sort of pre-middle-aged hormone cocktail that was controlling him? How the hell was he supposed to snuff this flame out? He could never request your services again; but as soon as the thought entered his head, he threw it out. He'd keep you, if not for his own selfishness, then for the way you were so excited to have the job in the first place. This would have to be a project of self-discipline. He would have to figure out how to-

"Steamin' Jesus- that's who ye got watchin' Riley?!"

For a moment, Ghost nearly came out and landed a punch to Soap's gut. But Simon simply jolted, catching his phone right before it slid off onto the floor.

"Bloody- fuckin' hell, Johnny." He grumbled.

"Bloody fuckin' hell indeed-" Soap agreed, trying to swipe at Simon's phone. "Pull 'er up again, lemme see-"

"Bugger off." Simon warned. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pocketed his phone.

"Awe, this why ye dinnae want te talk 'bout 'er earlier?" Soap said with a playful grin, collapsing onto his cot on the opposite side of the room. "Been hidin' tha' pretty thing all te yerself?"

"'M not hidin' anythin.'"

"Then lemme see- might snag 'er number, too-"

"No you won't, Johnny."

"Why not?"

"Because y' don't need a bloody dog-walker."

"Maybe not, but I could always use a lass, eh?"

"She is off limits-" Simon said, narrowing his gaze at Soap, "- n' there's not gonna be another word 'bout it."

Simon laid down and rolled to face the wall before Soap could utter another word. He heard Johnny scoff, followed by the sound of him removing his boots.

"Dry piece of shite, ye are..." he grumbled.

Despite his instinctual reaction to Johnny's instantaneous attraction to you, Simon was a bit shocked with himself. Again - you weren't his. The only tether he had to you was strictly monetary and contractual. He even imagined that you might be pissed, having a client treat you like they were your bodyguard. He needed to figure this out and de-root it from the source, before it got any worse.

But... if he allowed himself to entertain the idea, just this once... Would it be such a bad thing? To attempt- to convince you that he wasn't so horrible a person, really- if you could just see past his hard, outer shell, built up from years of trauma and blood. Who knows how long it would take you to see him as a decent person, but he could think about the logistics later. It wasn't against the law to date your pet-sitter, he just had to make himself believe that. Maybe you were just the perfect amount of sunshine that could melt the iciness within him.

With a glance over his shoulder, making sure Soap was minding his beeswax, Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket. He gave your picture a long, favorable glance, before he sent you a final message for the night.

keep reading to her for me, and tell her I'll be home soon. thanks again.

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