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simon riley with a gf who’s a preschool teacher.

simon riley who loves seeing all the little outfits his girlfriend dresses up in. whether it’s a pair of jeans and a jumper, one of those cute sun dresses or even those stupid pair of dinosaur overalls that her students love so much.

simon riley who loves to watch his girlfriend get ready for work. watching her do her makeup, put her hair up and even helping her pick what to wear.

simon riley who loves the art work his girlfriend brings home from her students. who loves them more than she does sometimes. who melts every time one of the write ‘mr. simon’ above a small stick figure next to another one that has his girlfriend’s name above it.

simon riley who gets videos from his girlfriend while deployed. most of the videos being her saying she loves him but some of them include the preschoolers telling him to be safe.

simon riley who retires from an injury. who can’t stay still so he ends up in his girlfriends classroom for the first time. who ends up sitting with the kids, reading them a book about a military dog.

simon riley who by the end of the week has been to the class everyday. even bringing Riley in for the kids to meet.

simon riley who by the end of the week decides he wants kids.

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#yapper wife + quiet husband

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GYAAATTTT GHOST???? CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP YEEEOOOOWWCHHHH!!!!!!

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Blame the storm. (Simon Riley)

“Fuck you, Riley” she scoffs. Her hands heavy and aggressive while she removes her tactical gear. She’s angry, tired — no, exhausted from being out in the field for the last two weeks. And it definitely doesn’t help that her bullet proof vest tugs and chafes on the back of her neck from all the weight she carries. She’s got many reasons to be angry, but nothing infuriates her more than being underestimated, “You used me as bait” she continues as she finally rips off the vest that’s been tugging at the already red and sensitive skin — she doesn’t make her case any better when she begins rubbing the area with urgency. “Practically got me killed, but anything as long as the original four are fine, right? You unbearable prick” her words dripping with venom. She was fed up with him, she was able to tolerate him for the two years she’s been on the task force, but one can only poke the tigress so many times before she reacts. Captian Price, Soap and Gaz had witnessed the pair bicker back and forth plenty of times — it was nothing new. The three gave themselves a subtle glance as they exited the debriefing room well after the meeting had ended. The only one that seemed to have enough energy to utter words for argument was her, and the only one willing to listen was him.

“You’ve hardly got a scratch on you” is his reply. His tone flat and distant as his eyes are set onto her, watching her emotions get the better of her. “Your priority is the mission. Our priority is the mission. Everything went fine”, he added. His tone now tinged with annoyance. Of course, she is not surprised by his response. She expected his devaluing of her experience.

she continues angrily rubbing the back of her neck in frustration. He was right — and she hated that he was. If it wasn’t for the dried blood tainting the outside of her ears, the rash on the back of her neck and the pounding headache all from the commotion from the two weeks spent in the field, she would be completely unharmed. But that wasn’t enough to soothe her anger. She still couldn’t believe that he would take it as far as he did, placing her in a predicament that only put her in danger. Sending her into a house that hadn’t been cleared in an area where they were surrounded was a new low for Simon — at least that’s what she thought. “Unbelievable. You don’t even bother to pretend that you at least tolerate me being on this task force. I could have died” she said with gritted teeth. Her eyes landing on an unopened bottle of water on the oval table in the room. With one hand still aggravating the tender skin, and her other hand reaching for the bottle she was fully prepared to throw it at him.

Before she could even feel the bottle leave her hand, Simon had stood up and approached her. His height allowing him to take long strides. His hands firmly wrapping around her wrists. His grip strong, but not strong enough to harm her, but firm enough to make her release the bottle. “Look at yourself” he said as he placed both of her wrists into one hand, using his now unoccupied hand to hold her chin, turning her head to the left. Simon leaned in slightly to look at the redness on her neck, a low and soft growl escaping his lips as he realized how undone she had become, “What you need is rest. Save your breath and quit biting my damn ankles”.

She scoffs, “Stop pretending as if you care about a single hair on my head. And let me go”

“Let you go and let you spiral even further?” he asks his tone tinged in annoyance and slight concern. The rolling of her eyes prying more words out of him, “You think I sent you in that house thinking you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself? Don’t be so bloody dense. A reminder that you’re not here just because you’ve got a pretty face, Sweetheart” the muscles in her jaw relax slightly as he tugs her wrists closer to his chest, causing her frame to jolt closer to his. His gaze sharp as he looked down at her, their difference in size more noticeable now that they were in such close proximity, “You think I’d let anyone lay a hand on you? Especially those waste of space pigs? God help them if anything had happened to you”

Her eyes soften with curiosity and her breathing mellows as Simon reassures her. “As long as I live, nobody lays a hand on you, nobody touches you, nobody even stares in your general direction” he continues. His grip relaxed around her wrists, but still she did not bother to move. They both stood in silence staring at each other with a gaze that is unfamiliar to the both of them.

He suddenly steps away from her, his hands coming up to his balaclava. With one swift movement he pulls it off his head revealing the dirty blonde locks stiff with dried sweat. Simon runs a frustrated hand over his face as he stared at the floor, “Leave your neck alone will you?” is all he says to her before leaving the room with urgency.

—————-

Several days have passed since their unusual interaction. A part of her was relived that they had received a week off to rest and recover from the their mission, but the other half of her wanted answers. She had so many unanswered questions about Simon’s words, but avoidance was her best trait. She had been spending the last few days avoiding Simon as much as she possible. Considering that they lived in the same apartment building she found herself successful for the time being.

But she hated being indoors. She was growing restless by the minute. “Who needs that much rest anyway?” she shrugged as she tied her running shoes. A run would suit her best. She would get some fresh air, release some pent up energy, and the sun was setting, so she would have a nice view without the sunburn.

——————

Nobody lays a hand on you. Simon’s words repeated in her head over and over. Nobody looks in your general direction.As if the pace of her breathing matched the pace of his words ruling over her mind. The now scabbed over rash on her neck stung from the sweat dripping over it, the sensation snapping her back to reality. She glanced at her watch noticing the time — she had been running at a controlled pace for an hour and a half. Her body was drenched in sweat as she stepped inside her building. While waiting for the elevator she took notice of a familiar scent — his scent.

“Late night run?” muttered Simon in his usual flat and disinterested tone. They both stepped into the elevator.

“Yeah. I got enough rest” she responded cordially, “and I hate being stuck inside”.

She felt Simon’s icy stare run down her sweat covered body. Suddenly she realized how revealing her outfit was. A black sports bra with white running shorts is all she had on. Simon only released a subtle “Hm” as he took in her appearance, “You went out at night in that?” he questioned her pointedly — no hesitation in his words.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his question. The one time she thought they could have a civil conversation he completely ruined, “Yes. This. There’s nothing wrong with my choice of clothing” she muttered with annoyance now coating her verbiage. She was bothered by his choice, obviously. She figured he was underestimating her, “I can take care of myself”.

“Never said you couldn’t. You’re more than capable” he shrugged as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Just making an observation”. His jaw ticked the moment he inhaled softly, as if refraining from saying more to her, but his eyes remained on her. Not in an uncomfortable, or predatory manner, but in a state of slight annoyance and possessiveness. As if she was his to look at. And for his gaze only. She could feel her pulse in her throat. There was correlation, the longer his eyes remained on her, the harder her heart beat. Her lips parted slightly and she inhaled deeply as if her body needed the extra oxygen.

The elevator door opened on their shared floor, but they both stood frozen. The tension between the pair made the air in the elevator thick, but her legs were frozen. Stuck in the same position for a few seconds as a familiar warmth settled into her core. The sound of the elevator door beginning to close shook them both out of their trance. Her breath hitched as Simon’s arm suddenly stopped the door from closing completely. He motioned a “cmon” with his hand, letting her exit first. Right before they parted ways he cleared his throat, his hands still in his pockets, “Be careful going out at night. You can handle anything just fine, but try to not to put yourself in situations that need handling”. He then casually began walking toward his apartment across the hall from hers. She hated how correct he could be. She especially hated how warm and slick he had her feeling. Simon Riley, the man that got under her skin, and right into the center of her attention.

——————

A couple days later the entire building was advised to stay inside. A hurricane had been swept into the city. It’s winds reaching over 60 miles per hours, and the streets flooding.

She sat with her mug of morning coffee watching the storm run it’s course. An uncomfortable feeling settling in on her as she realized she was stuck inside her apartment for the next few days. As if being stuck inside wasn’t bad enough, she now had no escape, not outage prepared to take on her restlessness. She wondered if he was feeling the same way. While her thoughts drifted to him there was an unfamiliar knock on her door.

She was used to being on her own whenever she wasn’t at work. With the storm booming outside, she definitely wasn’t expecting any visitors. She stood by her window in a short tank top and boy-short panties and a robe to cover herself. She sighed and wrapped the robe securely over her body as she made her way to her door. She opened it to find Simon with a bag of takeout in his hand. She hated to admit that she was pleasantly surprised, and it didn’t help her situation to see Simon’s blond hair soaked and tussled. His coat being waterproof, but nothing suitable enough for the storm raging outside.

She raised a curious eyebrow at him and patiently waited for an explanation as to why he even bothered showing up. However, the reason quickly became clear when thunder rattled the rainy skies. His demeanor was tense, and rigid. Simon who was typically calm and collected seemed panicked and slightly disturbed. She identified the signs immediately and stepped aside without muttering a word. At the end of the day they were teammates, and she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to him struggling.

Simon stepped inside closing the door behind him and walked into the kitchen immediately. The layout of the apartment being the same as his, explaining why he knew his way around. “Why are you wet?” she finally asked as she followed closely behind. She was now watching him unpack a selection of breakfast items.

“Exposure therapy” was all he replied with — again his tone as flat as always. She wasn’t one to pry about personal struggles, so she only nodded her head and decided to take advantage of the fact that she no longer had to cook herself breakfast.

————

Couple of hours had passed and the storm only seemed to worsen. She had closed her blinds a few minutes into Simon being at her apartment. She spent a fortune on sound proof and blackout curtains when she realized that her apartment overlooked a popular bar. Something she was more and more grateful for everyday. She was sure Simon was relieved now that the sounds of thunder had become a dulled rumbling in the distance thanks to them.

They both settled on the couch in silence. Their eyes landing on one another every few seconds. It was clear neither of them were used to having visitors or being a visitor, but oddly enough having each other during the storm was comforting.

Comforting until her thoughts strayed to the night after their most recent mission. The way he held her wrists. Comforting until her thoughts stayed to the night in the elevator. Simon’s thoughts also in the same well of memories. Again, she felt the familiar warm knot forming in her core.

Her robe had loosened causing it to drape over her shoulder slightly, and just like the night in the elevator Simon had the same look in his brown eyes. Annoyed, possessive and now hungry. The air in the room became thick, his eyes burning holes into hers.

She couldn’t handle it, “You gotta go. Or I have to go. This” she motioned between the two of them, “Whatever this is can’t happen”.

She stood up abruptly and walked towards him. Simon remained in a relaxed position on the couch with his legs spread open and his hips inched forward. He only stared up at her. He heard what she said loud and clear, but seeing her from that angle only made him wonder how she might look sitting on his lap, taking every inch of him. “Did you hear me?” she scoffed. Her mind telling her to stand her ground, but her body reacting to him.

Simon nodded his head as his eyes remained glued on her. Her robe now fully open while she stood directly in front of him. Simon sat up, his gaze still on her. His large and calloused hands made their way up to her hips. his thumbs massaging them with a gentle touch. His jaw muscles tightened, his eyes trailing down her body — slowly in manner that made it clear that he was admiring her — right before resting on her face. She audibly gulped, and willing took a short step closer to him. Now she stood directly in between his legs.

“You want me to go?” he questioned her while already fully aware of what her answer would be. She shook her head slowly. A slight smirk touching his full lips as he guided her to his lap. Her legs straddling him — she was exactly where he wanted her. His lips skimming her neck and collar bone, teasing her with every warm breath he let out, “Say it, Love. I want to hear it”. He beckoned her with his words. A serpent leading Eve to the forbidden fruit, “Use your words and tell me exactly what you want” he continued.

Her breath hitched, his growing member pressing on her throbbing cunt, “I-I need you to stay right here. With me” she finally answered after painfully forming her words into a cohesive sentence. Her hips desperately grinding to relieve the ache, but no that wasn’t enough. She needed him. All of him.

Simon couldn’t help but groan, her slick making it’s way past her panties and past his sweats. He couldn’t resist her anymore, he had spent years repressing himself. With ease he stood up, keeping her body in his arms and began making his way to her bedroom. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his torso.

Upon entering her neatly decorated bedroom, with her still in his arms, he slid his sweats down his legs, finally kicking them off before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. With urgency he pressed his lips onto hers, a soft “Hm” leaving his lips as she parted her lips, giving him full access to her mouth.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt before completely pulling it over his head and off to the side. With one hand he held the base of her head and entangled his finger into her hair to give him a secure grip on her and with the other he moved her panties the side and out of the way.

He lifted her temporarily before he slowly sank her aching, warm and drenched cunt onto him. Of course he took his time. He was well aware of his size and girth, and being her neighbor he knew she didn’t have guys over — as if he would ever let that happen. He guided her down slowly, and gently. He felt her walls tightly grip onto his throbbing cock, whilst simultaneously stretching around him. His brown eyes now focused on her as he watched her expressions to make sure he wasn’t harming her. Not because he was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to handle him, but because he despised watching her hurt.

Every time she thought that was all of him he would keep introducing more of himself into her. Her eyes slammed shut and her head leaned back sending her into a blissful state of pleasure and pain as her cunt molded itself around him. Small whimpers left her plump lips with each inch he filled her with. Finally she felt herself gently land on his thighs.

“Fuck” he groaned as he guided her hips into a slow and steady rhythm. Soft breaths escaped both of their lips, his face coming forward and burying into the crook of her soft neck. His arms desperately wrapping around her significantly smaller frame in a manner that made him feel like he needed her closer.

She on the other hand had an arm wrapped around his broad shoulders and the other one firmly gripping his forearm. The rhythm becoming more sloppy and desperate as each second went by. Her robe was hanging on by her elbows, the whole situation was desperate. But not in a pessimistic manner.

Simon brought a hand up to hold her neck. He wasn’t choking her, but holding her head in place. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to watch how well she was taking him. “Let me see those pretty eyes of yours” he spoke in a slurred voice. Her eyes fluttered open as she listened to his every word, “So fucking pretty” he added. Her walls began to gradually tighten around his pulsating cock. She was nearly there, and oh god was she arriving to her climax quickly.

He didn’t change the pace, he continued moving her in the exact same way. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she felt the knot in her stomach becoming undone, “No, no.” he shook his head and tightened his grip on her face, “Eyes on me, Love” he demanded. She forced her eyes to lock onto his and it was in that moment that her walls completely clamped shut around him. A surge of her juices flooding her cavity adding onto the increasing pressure she was already feeling. Simon whimpered, his own eyes going lazy before closing as a familiar pressure was released within his thick and drenched cock. His thick and warm seed pumping deep inside of her. There was no denying that she belonged to him now. But maybe she always did.

Or maybe it was the storm to blame.

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I have more screenshots of him, I need to see people appreciate his beauty

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🦋 🐱

Simon “Tank♡” Riley

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Simon falls for Johnny’s wife…

render by @ave661

a/n: I’ve been working on this for a hot minute, but ended up having it sit in my drafts for a couple months :(. these images were released and it definitely struck a chord in my delulu mind. hence why i decided to finish it..

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"I've got a bad feeling about this one, Johnny," she said to the Scott with a shaky breath. Their toddler clinging to his mother's leg while keeping a tight grip on his father's finger. His little hand too small to grip the entirety of his hand.

She couldn’t help but notice his worrisome sigh as he looked for the comforting words, "Eh, don't you worry, Darling. I always come back don't I?" he replied enthusiastically as he embraced her figure, his chin resting on the top of her head and his free hand caressing the back of his son’s head. Johnny always knew how to comfort her, but she couldn’t shake her nervousness and doubtful thoughts as he said goodbye to her husband and the father of her only child.

The memory of their final interaction as a family replayed in her head continuously as the rain created soft tapping noises on her black umbrella. The pattering of the water creating an almost hypnotizing effect on the new widow that kept her mind on the only aspect that was left of her late husband -- memories.

The toddler, a three-year-old boy, who like most of the time clung to his mother's body. Except this time he was fully embracing his mother, his little face placed into the crook of her neck as the pair stood together at the outdoor memorial service. She could only stare blankly at the urn that held the remains of the love of her life. Through her observant stare she took note of the simple, yet lovely set up of white roses, numerous awards and medals. All of which surrounded a framed photo of her Johnny — her favorite photo. A candid picture snapped of the blue eyed, dark haired man by his wife — the woman he kept a secret from his work life. Not out of shame, or malicious secrecy — Johnny loved his wife and his child. Love them so much that he couldn’t be bothered ever putting them in any sort of danger.

She could feel numerous pairs of eyes prying into her and her son as she stood amongst the medium sized crowd of individuals. She assumed all of them were teammates, Co-workers, or people simply paying their respects. she knew he was a highly decorated soldier, but he was far more than that. None of them knew about his personal life, and nobody knew about the widow and small boy he had left behind. Nobody but Captain John Price knew about Soap’s little family. In confidence, Soap had asked Price to maintain word of his wife and son under the rug of the sake of their safety. Although they were hidden, he always carried pieces of them with him wherever he went — attached to his dog tags were two small and silver flat pendants that had been engraved with his wife and son’s fingerprint, his wedding band usually accompanying them on the same chain whenever he was deployed.

When Johnny was home he never removed his ring. He would often complain about how difficult and stubborn the piece of jewelry was when it came time to remove it for work. Johnny thought he was as discrete as he could be when it came to protecting the two most important people in his life, but there was a certain masked individual who took notice of the tan line that marked his left ring finger, the sudden dark under eyes and disheveled appearance that started 3 years ago when they would meet early in the morning for briefings, and when he caught sight of a vomit stain decorating the left shoulder of his black t-shirt — he just wasn’t one to pry.

Those same observant eyes were glued to the grieving widow and the blue-eyed toddler.

Her mind was pulled out of thoughts as Price approached her with a warm and tender expression in his eyes. In his hands were the dog tags, along with his keepsakes of his beloveds and in a small box was the wedding band. All of his personal belongings packed neatly into a box. Price knew he didn’t have to say anything to her for her to know that he was paying his respects to Johnny’s wife. Prior to the memorial service she had made it clear to Price that she wanted him to keep his ashes. She found they would get at least some closure from releasing them.

As Price drew her small frame in for a polite hug her son grew restless in her arms. She knew he was too young to understand that his father was gone, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable and upset from the lack of him. "Mama, it's cold" he fussed as he smushed his face farther onto her neck, "and your feet are getting wet. You're gonna catch a cold". She gave Price an apologetic smile as she turned her attention to her son now — Price had taken it as a signal to retreat. He now stood with two other men.

She couldn't help but smile at the innocence and kindness that exuded from her son. She gently patted his back to soothe his discomfort, "How about we get out of here and get some lunch?" she tried to speak in her most joyful tone, but even then it was coated in sorrow. The boy did not catch on to her somber response, and instead eagerly nodded his head as he perked up to look at his mother. That is when she realized how similar their son, Samuel, looked to his father. He mirrored him in nearly every aspect -- the eye shape and color, the dark hair, and even the mannerisms were similar. This could all be a fragment of her imagination -- she thought. Maybe it was part of her grieving process. She missed him so much that she began to look for him and could only find him perfectly in their Sammie. She was so consumed by her thoughts, that she had not realized the single salty tear that slipped out of her eye and down her cheek. Samuel hated to see his mother cry, he quickly brought his tiny hands up to her cheek and wiped it away with a slightly heavy palm. Usually, he would verbally comfort her — as best as a toddler could do, but all he did was lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his mother's forehead, "This always makes you feel better when Daddy does it". Does -- in present tense.

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She could not tolerate being at the memorial service for much longer, and neither could Samuel. She had buckled him into his car seat and handed him a strawberry and banana squeezable fruit pack and crackers to ease his rumbling tummy in the meantime.

However, as she closed the car door and turned her back to face the crowd of people one last time she was instead met with a tall, burly build of a man. His face was hidden by a balaclava, leaving only his eyes on display. But the rest of his face was not necessary to note that he was also grieving. She noticed him within the crowd of the memorial service as well -- she assumed that was one of Johnny's friends, but did not bother to congregate with anyone since Johnny kept his personal life completely separate from his work life. And if she was being honest with herself, she did not have the emotional stamina to socialize with people that spent months out of the year with her late husband.

"Sorry. Can I help you with something?" she asked the brute man. She stared up at him with her eyes slightly shut to avoid water from getting into them.

"He’s Johnny’s" was his only reply. For a moment she only blinked and stared at him and noted the heavy English accent. The mention of her late husband’s name stung as she now was fighting back tears. Yes, he is Johnny's son. His pride and joy -- was what she wanted to say, but she could barely muster up the strength to nod her head.

She could tell that the individual's lips tightened into a line by the way the fabric of his mask slightly stretched. "My name is Simon. I was a friend of Johnny's..." he attempted to continue speaking, but all he did was nervously rub the back of his neck. "Johnny meant a lot to me, a real friend of mine..." he trailed off again.

She knew he was grieving, but it was a different type of pain. She sensed guilt within his sadness, but she knew better than to ask about any specifics. Her kind nature and maternal habits took over as she saw Simon struggling to find his words. For whatever reason this man decided to make himself emotionally uncomfortable to introduce himself, she figured there would be no harm in easing his mind.

She knew who Simon was since Johnny would bring up his friend "Ghost" every now and then "I know who you are" she smiled warmly trying to be the emotional rock between the two, "How about you join us for some lunch. I think Sammie would love to talk to and get to know his Uncle Ghost" she spoke eagerly in an attempt to lighten the mood -- something that was usually Johnny's role.

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The three of them sat in a booth within a homely diner. The rain had completely let down at this point, the large drops of water hitting the roof of the diner with loud individual pats. Her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of coffee as she stared out the window watching blades of grass be temporarily smooshed by the inclement weather. The waitress had refilled her mug causing her gaze to turn towards her, her eyes softened and she gave the waitress a subtle nod to thank her. It was then that she realized that her son was wearing the ghost mask that was once on Simon. There was a glimmer of joy in Sam's eyes as he stood on the booth and gently hopped toward his mother to show her the "cool mask".

"I look so cool!" he exclaimed which only caused a chuckle to leave both her and Simon's mouths as the toddler's face was completely exposed through the eye hole on the mask -- his features obviously too small to fill the mask in the same manner. Upon hearing the slight laugh she turned to look at Simon, who she was surprised to see with dirty blonde hair. He was overall a handsome man, something that anyone would notice at first glance, but his eyes always conveyed a lot of emotion. Right now it was amusement tinged with pain as he stared at Sam. She knew he also noticed how strongly he resembles Johnny, and a part of her found comfort in knowing that she was not grieving alone. The way he looked at Sammie made her feel warm. She sensed that Simon knew Johnny deeper than most of the people at the memorial service — knowing that she found herself smiling at the thought of her being able to cherish Johnny’s memories with someone else.

The waitress had arrived with everyone's meals. Sam did not hesitate to dig into his plate. The toddler abruptly grabbed the bottle of syrup and drenched his pancakes in it. His careless behavior causing some of it to spill onto to the table, "Use your table manners please" she spoke sternly, but softly to the boy as she slipped him a napkin and a set of covered utensils.

"He looks just like him" he spoke in a gentle and respectful tone. His eyes rested on Sam -- who was now too focused on using his utensils properly to pay attention to the conversation happening in front of him.

Her hand wiped a strand of dark stray hair away from his forehead before she turned her attention toward Simon, who was now looking at her, "Yeah. Carried him for 9 months and he's got the nerve to look just like his father" she shrugged with a pained smile — her attempt to lighten the mood once again failing, "but I wouldn't have it any other way".

Simon took note of the sorrow hidden within the smile as his own face mirrored it out of empathy.

A few minutes had gone by and Samuel was still working on his meal, Simon had quickly eaten his, and she played with her food, tossing it around all over her plate in a desperate attempt to distract herself. How embarrassing would it be to break down at a family diner. "You should eat your lunch" he spoke. The deep voice dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced down to look at his empty plate and her contrastingly full one. Casually shrugging off his suggestion she set her fork down and let out a soft sigh, "I'll just take it to go. I don't really have an appetite at the moment" she spoke in a casual tone — too causal of a tone. She was normally a social person, the type to be able to engage in conversation with any type of person for hours. Her personality was magnetizing in the sense that she was an incredibly open minded person, which only made her a vessel for hundreds on conversations, all of different topics and tones — a quality that Johnny loved about her. She was one of the few that would keep up with his mindless thoughts and nonsense ideas. That is where she was at the moment. In her mind she was thinking about the woman she was before she got the gut wrenching knock at her door. The knock where she was told by Laswell and Price that her husband was gone. “Killed in Action” were the words they used. “He died saving the world” was something Price added.

Sure he had died saving the world, but her and her son’s was destroyed. She was never a selfish person, but in that moment she wished the world would burn if it meant he was in her arms instead of merely a memory. She hadn’t noticed until recently that tears were flooding her cheeks and spilling onto her meal. Simon had been observing her for a moment as she watched her fall into deep thought, but once he saw her tear stained face he acted quickly.

He swiftly took his wallet out of his pocket and placed a $50 bill on the table to cover their meals and a decent tip, “Come on” he spoke in a demanding voice, his tone remaining soft enough for her and Sam to remain calm. Sam was oblivious to his mother’s current state as he had now distracted himself with the crayons and the kids menu.

She looked at Simon as she attempted to regain her composure. It was long gone, she was an emotional mess at the diner — exactly what she was trying to avoid. “It’s alright.” he coo’d as he took Sam into his arm. With his free hand he guided her out of the booth and to the exit.

He took the initiative to get the mother and son home as soon as possible. The three of them approached her car, “Get in and take a few deep breaths, yeah?” he instructed while simultaneously holding the door open for her. Sam had been buckled into his car seat, which Simon struggled to figure out, but the toddler being incredibly intuitive had seen his mother and father do it hundreds of times and was able to talk Simon through it.

If that had happened under different circumstances she would have been able to congratulate Sam and let him know how proud she is of him, but she was far from being in that state of self awareness and state of mind.

She was a wreck in the passengers seat of her own car. She was heartbroken in the passengers seat of her own car. The severity of it all finally setting in making it nearly impossible for her to get ahold of herself.

Is she just exhausted from the days leading up to the funeral? A weeks worth of concealed emotions finally spilling out in front of her. She is definitely overwhelmed, but this time she subconsciously feels safe and secure enough to let go of her broken front.

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Months had gone by since her meltdown in front of Simon, and he never once brought it up. He was well aware it wasn’t something she was proud of, nor did she want to talk about her grief. Simon had been coming around her and Samuel a couple times a week just to check in on the pair. He felt it was his responsibility to keep them safe now — the least he could do for his recently deceased friend. Everyday he spent with the two of them he realized why Soap had kept them a secret. They were truly too special to put into any risk; especially her. She was a walking breath of fresh air, not something anyone encounters often in their lifetime, especially not in their line of work and the lifestyle it supplies. Now it all made sense. Johnny was always the most eager to return home when they’d be out in the field, said he had “something special” waiting for him, but everyone would shrug it off.

He grew to understand Soap’s decision to keep his family hidden from the world he worked in.

Even though Simon was consumed in his own thoughts he was still able to be completely alert as the mother and son played on the playground.

Her laugh. It stripped him away from his spiraling memories and muses. His gaze snapped to her body on the floor covered in wood chips, she had clearly tripped and stumbled while playing with Samuel. She was laughing at her clumsiness, laughing at how attentive Samuel was to his mother as soon as she hit the cushioned floor, “Sammie, I’m okay” she soothed him as he clung to her — small and gentle laughs leaving her full lips as she reacted to the entire scenario.

That was the first time Simon had heard her laugh.The sound of her sweet tone intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough, is what he mentally told himself as he walked over to her to help get back on her feet. Her soft and polished hand nestled and firmly gripped onto his rough and calloused one as he pulled her off the ground.

Guilt lingered in his being upon realizing how much he liked being around her, but he needed to be there for them. The conflict was clear within him, and something he figures he’ll eventually learn to accept and move forward with. He knew he would have to set aside his audacious feelings to respect her and more importantly to respect Johnny. He would be there to protect them as much as she allowed him. He wasn’t planning on getting emotionally attached to the the pair, or her alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later that same evening, Simon had made the decision to pay her and Sammie a visit. He stepped out of his car with a bag of Chinese takeout in his hand. Chinese food had become the only thing she would willingly eat ever since Johnny passed. A swift hand smoothing his plain black t-shirt before he began walking toward her front door, but as soon as his hand left his clothing he realized what he was doing. Bringing her favorite food to her and her son with no real reason to be seeing her, checking his appearance — something uncommon for the typically aloof man. A lingering hint of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he treaded towards the front door of her house. No, Simon was only supposed to be there for the mother and son duo as an aide during this severe loss. He felt that’s what he owed to Johnny since he felt partially responsible for his death. A cocktail of traumatic thoughts and memories invaded his mind . The grip on the take-out bag grew stronger, the same strength being felt in his chest as his heart pounded in its cavity

Upon reaching the front door he heard what sounded like a glass had broken — as if it had fallen off of a surface, which isn’t a big deal, she had a bad habit off leaving glasses on the edge of countertops and tables, but the yelp that followed only made Simon react in the most instinctive manner. He rushed inside the house and into the kitchen where she was found with a dish towel wrapped around her hand and a grimace on her face. Her nose scrunched in reaction to the pain.

Simon raised an eyebrow at her as he approached her with swift and long strides. His demeanor was urgent, alarmed and slightly panicked as his body was still in a reactive state from his memories, but how could she know that? She stared at him with the same expression, but she had more reason to. His breathing wasn’t heavy but it was slightly sporadic. At the same time, it was still controlled, his body was tense, but most significantly, his eyes looked panicked and unsettled. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting tonight. You should have let me know,” she spoke casually as she continued holding pressure on her fresh wound, “Or else I wouldn’t have-“ her words stopped flowing when Simon grabbed her hand and began to examine the brand-new cut. She watched his concerned expression lighten when he confirmed that the abrasion was small enough to heal on its own, “- let my mom take him for the weekend.” She finally completed her sentence when his large brown eyes met hers.

She knew exactly what was happening to him. She recognized the wide, alert eyes, uneven breathing, and tense mannerisms. This was a common occurrence that she witnessed Johnny experience. Her husband was gone, but there were constant reminders of him everywhere -- and one thing she hated seeing was Johnny struggling with his PTSD. Just like Johnny, she couldn't tolerate seeing Simon in the same condition.

Using her unharmed hand, she grabbed Simon's calloused one. Her movements were gentle and fluid as she guided their hands to the left side of her chest. With his palm now resting on her chest she looked into his eyes before speaking in a nurturing tone. "Slow and steady. Count it for me" she said as she placed her own hand over his chest. It was then that she noticed how hard and fast his heart pounded. "I’ll count yours until we match pace. One, two, three..."

Eventually, Simon counted with her, his heart rate slowing gradually as his mind remained distracted from the trauma and focused on her. On her beating heart, on her nurturing voice, on her full pink lips, on her long dark eyelashes, on her soft delicate hands. Her. His mind consumed by images of her, his newfound serenity.

Simon cannot help but feel guilty, but his pleasure and serene state strongly blinds him from this feelings. This is exactly what he didn’t want, but he can’t help but relish in it.

[sgrplumditz]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[sgrplumditz]

unckuna

continuation here

[sgrplumditz]

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2

He takes you to the mall after you eat nearly everything on the menu. He figured since he doesn't spend much money on himself and he earns more than enough, he'd put it to good use for once.

"Anythin' you want" he says, "Really?" you squeal with a wide grin and a light smile forms on his lips at your childish joyfulness.

There's still a slightly weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. What does this man want?

Yet you allow yourself to enjoy this for now since such an opportunity may never come up again.

You walk around carefully inspecting each store and considering what you may need and what's necessary, of course also indulging your vanity a bit.

"Doesn't suit you", "Not for you", "That's better" he mentions his opinion bluntly as you try on different clothes or different shades of makeup products.

"But I need the large ones. I'm gonna be huge." you pout and he lets out a low chuckle, "Yeah, didn't consider that. Sorry."

He notices your reluctance as you look through the various items, "It’s ok, luv. Take whatever you want." he reassures you and you smile and mumble a shy 'thank you'.

He follows close behind, carrying your bags for you while loosely keeping a hand on the small of your back as you roam around and occasionally stop for a snack, ice cream or a game machine, chuckling at you as you lose miserably.

He checks you into a hotel as he had promised and helps you settle, gives you the key and a piece of paper.

"Here. This is my number. If you ever need anything, give me a call." he says then goes to leave, but you stop him.

"Thank you so much, Simon. I can't thank you enough. You really saved me tonight." you say while smiling gratefully.

"Don't mention it." he responds with a nod, his gaze lingering for a moment.

After he leaves, you flop down on the bed and your head is filled with thoughts of him.

He's straightforward and only speaks when necessary, doesn't spill too much about himself as you've come to learn.

Yet there is something that he cannot hide, a hint of pain in his eyes, silent and profound. And his voice, laced in a shade of sombre.

He's an enigma. And you intend to figure him out.

And little did you know, his mind is filled with thoughts of you as well.

[sgrplumditz]

he’s like if a girl and a girl had a baby

[sgrplumditz]

need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.

you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.

you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.

"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."

he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.

you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.

"what's wrong with it?"

if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."

your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-

"keys."

right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"

you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.

"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."

he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.

your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."

"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."

the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."

your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"

he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"

embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.

"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.

he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."

eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.

he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.

he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.

you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.

"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."

grrrreat.

(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)

[sgrplumditz]

For all the Geto simps 💕

[sgrplumditz]

she means so much to me..

[sgrplumditz]

HAHAHAHAHAAH

[sgrplumditz]