mostholy

[mostholy]

Times where Simon Riley gets a cute aggression over you

Simon Riley, who just got home from a 4-month military mission in Mexico, long past midnight, only to find you fast asleep on the couch—still waiting for him. Your cheek was squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, brows faintly furrowed. He stood there in silence, staring at you with a rare softness for more than just a minute (definitely more than five), before carefully scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style, and laying you down in your shared bed where you could rest properly.

Simon Riley, who caught sight of you at the bedroom’s desk, brows knitted in focus as you poured yourself into your work. The sight made his chest ache in that way he could never put into words—half love, half frustration at how unfairly cute you looked when concentrating so hard. Without a word, he tilted your chin up with his thumb, before peppering lingering kisses across your forehead and cheeks—his silent, overflowing way of telling you to take a break.

Simon Riley, who’s never been the best cook, but still insists on cooking for you because nothing makes him happier than watching your nose crinkle and your eyes light up when you taste his food. He wipes the stray sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb before popping it into his mouth with a quiet, satisfied smirk.

Simon Riley, who buys you Jellycat plushies because he secretly finds it endearing how you treat them like little children, calling him the “dad” of your growing collection. He pretends to grumble, but he always gives in because your joy is worth it.

Simon Riley, who has a strict schedule when it comes to the gym during his military breaks, and you tagging along with him—not because you’re committed to the workout, but because you’re just as clingy. You perch yourself on a stationary bike or some random equipment, legs swinging idly, pretending to keep busy. He knows full well you’re not there to train, but to sneak glances at him as he bench presses, watching every rep with a little too much interest. The sight of you trying to look innocent while clearly admiring him never fails to make the corner of his mouth tug into the faintest smile.

Simon Riley, who spends hours locked in an online meeting with the special forces, headset on and eyes sharp, while you lie on the bed behind him—pouting, brows furrowed, waiting impatiently for his attention and the warmth of his touch. He sneaks glances at you between calls, fighting the urge to laugh at your sulking.

Simon Riley, who loves nothing more than waking up with you wrapped around him like a koala. Even with the expanse of the king-sized bed, you ignore your pillows and always cling to him—legs hooked around his hips, face buried against his chest or neck, as if you’re part of him.

Simon Riley, who just took off his mask, and you immediately smothered his face with quick kisses, everywhere you could reach. You loved these rare moments, knowing he didn’t often let his mask slip around others. He couldn’t stop the small huff of laughter at your eagerness, eyes crinkling as he muttered under his breath about how impossible you were. Still, he adored the way you looked at him with those soft, doe eyes—so full of love it made him want to squeeze you tight and never let go.

Simon Riley, who can’t help but feel a constant wave of cute aggression toward everything you do. Because he loves you so much—so deeply—that it overwhelms him. And more than anything else, he knows he can’t, and won’t, imagine his life without you.

[mostholy]

For @nightunite thank you for Simon and his weird little pets, you pushed me to make them all happy.

Househusband Simon with his big rough hands and his warm eyes, kissing you behind the ear in the morning.

He is long out the field, he doesn’t come back to service when it calls out to him once more and he doesn’t pick up the phone when Laswell calls.

He gave it all twice, he’d like to have something for himself this time.

So he takes you, switching his last name to yours, sporting the ring on his finger and staying on top of the care to your pets.

He gets a fish at some point.

Doesn’t even know what to do with it, so he spends half a night on obscure forums talking to people and reading articles on the topic.

He gets a pair of axolotls after another five months, prettiest things, Simon says.

Right beauties, definitely take it after you, he kisses in your cheek, smirking when you huff out laughter.

(What has a tail and a head, but no body, luv? Not my Betty, you wicked— A coin, luv, a coin.)

Simon is never going to have children of his own, he just…he can’t. But pets? Pets he thinks he can manage.

Simon accepts the soft care you provide so generously and doesn’t twitch when the door slams loudly anymore.

He is home. Home is safe. Home is home.

Househusband Kyle never expects to like this new life so much, it was supposed to be just temporary, a bit of a time off after an injury.

A little vacation so to speak, a chance to catch up with his sweetheart for all the times he was away and unavailable. Unreachable. Always the brightest star in the sky, always the one shining down on you while you made a wish and kissed him hard when he’d come down from the high of the eternal hunt he participated in for so many years.

Kyle liked being your Northern star, he liked that you would always turn to him and always be there when he comes back, only he hasn’t realised the price of this.

He notices it first when you come home and he is there. Reading something on the couch, legs stretched out, brace on his left one still in place. And Kyle is relaxed and soft, half naked and cozy, he raises his head to greet you and doesn’t know what to do with the amount of feeling in your eyes.

You have never looked at him like this. Not even when he’d come back from the mission, not even when he’d come back to you always a victor with a thousand stories and wet-mouthed kisses.

Like you can’t believe Kyle is there, but you’d rather watch him be even if it’s not real.

There is this thin ice of your caution while you observe him at home that cracks when he tilts his head to the side, giving you access to kiss his shoulder. Your touch light and warm, your breath hitching when he breathes out, melting into the simple affection.

You press your nose to his cheek, murmuring “I’m home, Kyle”, careful not to smother him with all the affection you are holding back because no one can keep the star from shining and no one can keep Kyle from doing what he loves.

But what he loves the most is being with you.

It’s a strange revelation, because it is so bloody obvious, because he should have known, because the clench in his chest when you’d watch him pack quietly and then hug him a little longer than usual — it all meant something. He has been asking for a sign from God and forgot to read the damn thing.

Kyle doesn’t leave everything behind in its entirety but he pulls away enough to be home so often that now he is the one who does the vacuuming and taking out the trash and a million other things.

He is home so often he now greets you when you come back, something in his chest bleeding every time your eyes light up at the sight of him, your whole body going soft with adoration, your kisses pressing all over his face because working the full day is so long and you missed him so so much!

Kyle thinks sometimes how it must have felt for you when he’d leave for months at a time and never knows how to make up for what he spent. There is no refund on time he doesn’t regret but wishes he could organise differently.

For now he settles for saying “welcome home” whenever you come back and kissing you in the morning and cooking dinners and making sure you remember that there is no other sky he’d rather shine on than yours.

Kyle is the ever present star and he likes that now you get to make a wish on him and it will come true.

Househusband Johnny switches to desk duty as soon as you get pregnant, sweating bullets while captain reads his request and then gives him this long look that he can’t understand.

“Good for you”, says Price, something softening in the harsh lines of his eyes, “Know already who you are havin’ or…?” He lets the question hang in the air, something softening further when Johnny shakes his head.

It’s a little early to know the gender of the baby or anything, but it’s your first one! He knows that maybe it’s silly to want to be around you so much more often when plenty of fellow soldiers are away even with their birds or bairns waiting at home.

But this is special.

You and bairn and this pregnancy.

Maybe he will change his mind later, maybe he will come back and get back out in the field and maybe—

“You won’t.” Price interrupts him, smiling like he hasn’t for a very long time, signing his request for a transfer and attaching recommendation letter to it. “Don’t come back, Johnny. If anythin’ we will come to you, aye?”

He is joking, Soap knows it, but his throat feels tight when he takes the signed request and recommendation letter, when his captain looks at him like he is proud, when he calls his L.T and instead of silence hears “good lad”.

“Ah sure hope ye will. Someone’s gonna be bairn’s godfather, ah hope to see a guid knife-fight to decide which one of ye gets to be the one.” Johnny tries to joke back, only his voice crack right in the middle and Price looks at him like he got smacked with a potato sack.

And then he laughs.

Deep and rich and infectious. The kind of laughter you’d never expect from a man like him, but would want to hear more and more of.

“Hope you know there is no chance anyone but me is going to win”, he adds suddenly and it’s Johnny’s turn to look gobsmacked, before his lips twitch into a grin.

“Ah don’t ken about that, sir. Ghost is a a big fella.” He says and his throat is no longer tight.

It’s no longer a goodbye. It’s a ‘see you later’.

To the surprise of everyone and no one at the same time Kyle wins the damn knife-fight and shines brighter than the bloody sun when he gets a permission to feel your baby kick. His eyes wide and his voice giddy when he grins back at Johnny, like Johnny is the luckiest man in the world.

He might as well be, Soap thinks when you let Price and Simon get a turn as well. Lieutenant is pulling his glove off for such occasion, his eyes soft when you place his palm where you anticipate the next kick.

Price chats with you about something when you place both of his hands for good measure — his whole face full of light when he feels a kick, grumbling something in appreciation to you that Johnny doesn’t hear from across the room.

His hearing is much worse than it was when he was younger and just started out, but he doesn’t mind. That’s a small price to pay if he is being honest. Could have been worse.

Johnny peppers with kisses your whole face, chomps down on your neck playfully just so you would smack him, laughing so hard that your water almost breaks.

God, he never thought it is possible to love someone so much. But with Lord as his witness, he loves you.

And he loves this baby and he loves you even more for doing this massive step with him. For trusting him to not let you down where it matters so much.

He takes leave of absence few weeks before you give birth, settling into a rhythm of being there, being with you, being something other than soldier.

Something that would make a decent dad to a tiny little thing you two made.

“We’ll need wait to wait four to five years fer ye to recover before we try for another one”, he murmurs in your neck at some point, his fingers interlaced under your belly, holding it up so you can get some relief.

“Another one?”, you laugh breathlessly, giggling harder when he hides in your neck. His face hot, tips of his ears pink as he groans.

“Ah meant if ye’d have another one with me, m’eudail”, Johnny murmurs, suddenly feeling shy, propping his chin on your shoulder, thumbs of his slowly stroking the underside of your bump.

You are silent for a few moments, leaning onto his chest, confident that he won’t let you fall. That he is there.

“Could go for three. Or four, twins run in your family, don’t they?” You ask suddenly and Johnny groans again, biting your neck again, pretending to chew on you while you gasp and giggle.

He loves your laugh so much. Could never tire of hearing it. Could never tire of knowing he can make you laugh like that.

“Aye, if ye still feel like getting another one after this one is born, I’ll supply ye with how many ye want, mo chridhe.” Johnny breathes out, kissing your cheek. Then your cheekbone, then your brow, then your temple, then—

“You’ll “supply” me alright, won’t ya?” You grin again and Soap groans louder, his chest pressing closer to your back. His palms warm and steady under your belly.

He has never felt happier.

Sometimes he lays at night touching the temple for a scar that isn’t there.

Sometimes he thinks that maybe in the other universe he doesn’t have you or bairn.

And maybe his story ends differently.

It’s a weird melancholic feeling that wraps itself around him sometimes.

Like he played rock-paper-scissors with something bigger than him and miraculously won.

Won you and your laughter, won the fatherhood, won watching Simon get his ugly axolotls and Kyle get all giddy when his spouse sends him pictures of treats they saw at the shop, asking what he’d like.

Won being happy and alive and staying with people he loves and who love him back.

He won, Johnny thinks.

This time he gets to be happy. This time he gets to stay.

John Price always knew men like him don’t get to peacefully die in their sleep with loved ones all around them, holding vigil and wishing for the painless departure. He isn’t made for anything other than what he has been doing for the last thirty years, he told people when someone was careless enough to ask.

He was never meant for family dinners and gaggle of kids or pets that would love him unconditionally. Look at him, no creature with any sense whatsoever would love a man like him unconditionally and would be wise not to do that.

Only when he proposes to you, nervous and annoyed at his own shaking hands (he managed to drop the ring, the bloody fool), you say yes and he is never the same.

He is a creature aching for the warmth of your body, curling around you like otherwise he’d freeze to death, bothering you out of pure affection. It’s healthy for couples to argue and it’s even healthier for them to make up and make out after.

Which, he quickly realised, was his favourite part.

John is a big man and now this big man is wrapping himself around you and grumbling something incoherent in your chest when you try to move him away. He has been plastered over you for the last forty minutes. That’s like 4 minutes in his time, luv, don’t be cruel now.

John watches his carefully curated TaskForce pull apart and no longer feels like an old dog no one taught a new trick, instead leaving him to fend for itself.

Only now he is occupying your couch in afternoons, blows raspberries in the tummy of your toddler and kisses you senseless whenever he can. Simon huffs out laughter when John tries to discipline the three-year old asking them “what do I usually say?” and in return getting a confident “I luv you!”.

Things change and he doesn’t really notice because he no longer wants to pay attention to what he was and what he never became and what he couldn’t amount to.

Why would he when you marry a mongrel like him and your baby thinks that the thing he says most often is ‘I love you’ and his team…his lads are happy.

John gets to see Soap’s first and second baby come home from the hospital and he gets to become a godfather for the twins a few years later, nuzzling in your neck when he gets chosen for it. He still hates crying out in the open, but he never hates how much people around him actually love him.

It’s such a wonder, John thinks sometimes, twins in his arms, soundly asleep, his chest blooming with feeling so enormous he doesn’t know what to do with it. Does he even deserve to feel so much love?

Has he earned all the love he is being given so generously?

John retires without any regrets so he can live to see Simon’s new turtle and Kyle’s knickknacks that lad brings for everyone from his travels with his spouse and Johnny’s kids and your shining eyes when he talks your baby into trying carrot for the first time.

John is there for birthdays and Christmases, he is there for colics and crushes, he is there for tears and midnight calls, he is there for his team and for you.

He is there for his family. He is now something other than captain.

His chest blooms with feeling so enormous that he needs to seek you out to hide in your neck and his baby, even years later still thinks that the thing he says the most often is “I love you”.

[mostholy]

Thinking abt Bunny shifter!ghost who much prefers to stay in his bunny form and hang around with his team that way.

Of course, he can just curl up on Price's lap, dozing off while Price's hand comes down absently to scratch at his head. Sometimes he has Kyle carry him to the mess so he can eat with the team. A small plate of various veggies lay out for Ghost to pick through. Johnny is always more than happy to pet the extremely soft fur Ghost sports.

But Ghost's favourite thing about being shifted? You.

You, who doesn't bat an eye when he insists on being carried around by you. He was just hoping to be tucked close to your chest so he could hear your heartbeat, but you have different plans.

Lifting your thick hoodie and having Ghost crawl inside it so he's lying skin to fur against your chest. He's having an internal crisis about the way your flesh dimples under his tiny paws when you shift your stance. Arm coming up to cradle him like a baby, cooing "Aw, you're just a sweet pet, aren't you Ghost? Just needs a soft space, yeah?"

Oh god. You say it so simply, as if talking to a pet and not your lieutenant who scares off people with a glance. The casual affection has Ghost's mind fuzzing, he'd be blushing to his chest were he human right now.

You parade Ghost around like that, tucked right into your chest. He nuzzles into your neck where just the little fluff of his head peaks over your hoodie. Occasionally, Ghost will see the guys throwing him a very jealous look, to which he flicks his ears at them. Focuses solely on you and the way you pet his hair and smile "wanna go nap, little bunny? Feeling tired?"

Of course he is! Hes just a bunny, so you should totally let him into your room and soft bed! Laying across your stomach and chest. Ghost enoys the way your body relaxes into sleep, snuggles right up into a ball at the crook of your neck and passes out. Safe.

(Bunny hc photos below the cut)

I like the idea of ghost being a tiny bunny. Real small cute guy that turns into the militaries favorite weapon. Yeah.

[mostholy]

Afternoon naps — Sleepy! Reader x Simon

Just thinking about how Simon was never the type of person who could take random naps through the day— until you.

You’d dragged him with you to take your daily nap in your soft, cozy, comfortable, pink, nest look like bed, changing into your, it was his but you claimed it has yours now, oversized shirt and some comfy panties. He’d just take his shirt and socks off because he just knew he was going to get a little hot when you’d wrap him up in your cozy pink blankies.

At first, he would fight you a little, stubborn man and his own little way to make you know he really wanted it but wasn’t sure, to then give up and let you prepare him for the nap. He’d tell himself he just wanted to for you to take your nap in peace and then when you’d fall asleep he could just get up do his own thing.

Of course that was not the case.

He’d end up taking one of the best naps he have ever taken in his life, and your would just look at him with a soft smile knowing that he needed it just like you did

It became a thing of you two, a routine where you’d just give him a kiss and a little tug on his shirt and he knew it was time to take a nap of the day.

just thinking about Simon being a big, scary, man all wrapped up and taking a nap in a pink bed. Agh I love him sm >< (I also wrote this during my lunch hour because I could not get the idea out of my head)

[mostholy]

you plan a joke on your boyfriend, it’s late at night and you’re connected to the tv with bluetooth and you two are almost asleep, you play a weird noise and make it sound like someone hit a chair

and you act scared of course cuz “baby what was that?” and you garb his arm and tell him to ‘go check what that was’

price would obviously go check immediately, can’t have his lovely baby scared in his home, so he goes, doesn’t find anything out of place and comes back to you as calm as ever

simon takes the gun he hides under his pillow, taking off the safety and standing up, his heavy steps rumbling through the house, his simple presence would scare anyone shitless but since there’s no one he comes back and comforts you that there’s nothing

kyle grumbles about being sent out to die on his own since you’re a scaredy cat, but he stands up anyway and goes to check, looking anywhere that someone would hide and coming back assuring you everything was fine

johnny could go either way but i think it’d be so funny if he was like “what do you mean go check it out? why do i have to?” “you’re the man??” “since WHEN” and he lifts the blanket to show he’s wearing a skirt and that would send you two wheezing in laughter

[mostholy]

Ghost definitely dressed for comfort when hes in his civvies.

Loose sweatpants, big soft sweaters and jackets. Those fluffy hoodies that are bulky yet lightweight and breathable. Ghost loves them, it helps him feel a bit more human, having comfortable clothes. No harnesses or straps or holsters bunching fabric or digging into skin.

Hes the kind of guy whos willing to drop $300 on a single shirt simply because its the perfect material that doesnt agitate his scars or drape into weird shapes on his skin.

This, of course, means that ghost will be throwing a handful of clothes at you before letting you into his bed to cuddle. You grab them, note the insanely soft fabric and hold up a thin shirt to inspect.

Its...in your size. You throw a quirked brow at ghost, but he just shrugs, pulling his pillows into the desired position. He bought these for you. Specifically for you.

From then on, your wardrobe slowly expands to encompass a "ghost clothes" category, which are the only clothes you wear when visiting ghost just in case you want to hug him or some other disgusting lovesick thing. Some of them upwards of $600, others from an $8 ten pack at Walmart.

All of them perfect to provide your boyfriend with the safe space he needs to love you and be loved by you.

[mostholy]

okay but simon riley would definitely be the type of guy who falls for you in the quietest way possible. like. he's literally this giant scary dude build like a house and then you're just...a shy girl , kinda chubby, wearing an oversized hoodie and trying not to trip over your own feet

and he's GONE.

but the thing is. he wouldn’t know what to do with it?? He's never felt this way.. never been in love .like he’d literally take a bullet for you without blinking but god forbid you ask him how he feels. this man would freeze like you short circuited something inside him.

he grew up with so much fear and violence and hurt that he's terrified of hurting you.he's terrified of doing something wrong and pushing u away. hes always soft and awkward when he's with you. As if he doesn't know how to actually act around you.

meanwhile you're just sitting there like "i brought you tea" and he’s ready to cry

he’d love every soft part of you without ever saying it. like you'd complain about your stomach or your thighs and he’d just get so quiet and then mutter "don't say that, ya look gorgeous" it's so soft you almost didn't hear it.

he wouldn’t be good at romance. but he'd remember your favorite snack. he’d let you sit on his lap even if he pretends not to care. he’d press his forehead against yours in the dark, no words, just breathing. hes always protective like that man ain't playing about you.

idk man he’d love you so much and be so scared of it at the same time.

[mostholy]

Do you guys think that they turned on the radio in the escapee car at the end of the ‘alone’ mission?

I think they would 😔🤙

I have been working on this for a bit and I honestly liked the sketch better smh but eh it is what it is, and I need to figure out how to fix the damn quality to be better 😔

[mostholy]

Intimidating, arent they?

[mostholy]

Pet peeve

Simon hated it.

Squeaky beds, well, more specifically, yours.

It didn’t even start because of sex.

No, it started whenever he shifted to get comfortable, or rolled over to pull you into his arms, and that godforsaken squeak shattered the peaceful silence.

What made it worse was that it always took him a while to settle, even longer to actually fall asleep. He was a big man. He knew that. But it drove him mad when he couldn’t so much as take a deep breath without that high pitched creak whining in his ear like the thing was on its last limb. It was past that point

When it did become about sex, though that was the final straw.

Every thrust came with a squeak. And your beautiful moans? Your bed had the audacity to drown them out.

So when you came back from the grocery store and saw your mangled bed frame sitting in the hallway, Simon sitting on the couch with his reading glasses on, scrolling through his phone and muttering something about a new frame, you didn’t say a word.

You just smiled, walking over to pressed a small kiss to his forehead.

[mostholy]

Ghost who just cant sleep when hes at his flat.

Hes got a roommate so the place isnt just collecting dust during deployment, and hes unfortunately become attached.

No matter how much you reassure ghost that the locks work, that the area is fine, that youd know if someone broke in, hes still wary. Usually you let him fuss. Who are you to tell a trauma ridden man how to feel safe?

Air shifts around the apartment. Never sound, not when its this late at night, but its impossible for ghosts presence not to be blinking in the back of your mind when you spend so much time alone in the flat. At this point, its less about you losing sleep and more aboht the fact ghost still hasn't gotten any.

With a determined and only slightly sleep-muffled huff, you drag yourself into the living area. Blanket warm where you hug it close. The lights are off, but a shadow crosses the pale moonlight from the curtains every now and then. Ghosts presence drags itself around the room, shifting the atmosphere around it from the sheer bulk of him.

"Simon. Its 11pm. Bed time." You take a step closer, trying to assess him. He looks dead tired, shadows under his accentuated into black voids from the dark of the night. He leans down slightly, as if drawn in by your comfort.

"...cant sleep. Worried."

You tilt your head. In your experience, ghost is never this monosyllabic unless hes embarrassed. "Worried about what? I know you have weapons if anyone attacks you."

"...bout you."

Your heart stutters for a second, rises then drops into honey-warmth. Oh. Okay. With a smile you drag ghost by the hand. Maybe you should think before you act, but youve never known ghost to be anything but respectful. Scarred fingers wrap lightly around your own, and his breath tickles your ears from how close he is.

The lock to your door unclicks, and before ghost can tense up you drag him inside. "Here, sleep in my bed. Far as im concerned, theres no safer place than your arms, even asleep."

Ghost silently crawls into bed. You dont see the way water rushes to his lashes at your easy acceptance of him. Its always been like that with you, but never to this degree. Inviting him to hold you when youre at your most vulnerable, trusting ghost not to hurt you.

You, oblivious to his turmoil, flop right on top of ghost the second he settles down. The giant of a man makes a shallow oof sound. Scared arms wrap around you blanket and all, muscles relaxing and sinking further into the matress. Body softening against you.

With the slightest hum, ghost lays his head back. Youre asleep by now, tired and more than comfortable to cuddle.

You dont hear it when his rough voice whispers "...thank you." Into the dark.

[mostholy]

female reader + violent men trauma × simon riley who's too in love to be angry

Simon wasn't one to submit to anyone, but you knew that you were the only exception. He was aware that you struggled with fear over authority figures or men in general who looked massive like him. Simon had big shoulders, hands, thighs, and biceps; he had all the built muscles from his military training, and you couldn't deny that, even though it made him attractive, it also showed how he could easily overpower you.

After you became a couple, the initial fear you felt when meeting him disappeared because you learned that he would never dare to hurt you in any way. If he did, this would have caused him unbearable guilt and pain. You knew this, that is why you took special care of him. But, of course, Simon was not as soft with other people. Or with anyone else at all. In the eyes of everyone else, he was a huge body mass of raw violence and bad temper. When he was on base, the recruits he trained were always on edge around him, knowing that at any point he could lose it if anyone dared make a mistake or pretend to be working. That was the worst sin of all: faking productivity in front of a man who had the eyes of an eagle. He knew what they were all up to, and he didn’t let it slide.

Soon enough his authoritative, raspy voice would be heard with all its strength indoors. Everyone jumped in their seats as soon as that common, "Keep moving lads, you've got a hundred more laps to do thanks to your friend here!" hit them, though it was not intended for them. But that was at his job. At home, Simon was different.

He would get home and immediately remove his mask, boots, and gear. As soon as he stepped into that threshold and saw you lying on the sofa, he would get closer, lie on top of you, and nuzzle his face in your neck.

"Hey, luvie."

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Was it good today?"

Simon grunted.

"Neva' a good day training recruits."

"Oh, baby... I'm sorry," you said, as you caressed his hair.

He wouldn't admit it but he loved when you called him nicknames.

"Nothing to be sorry for, luv." Simon sighed when your nails scratched his scalp.

You realized that he didn't understand you were saying sorry for something else entirely different. The truth was he got home and you didn't have anything ready for him because you fell asleep earlier. You always prepared his meals because he would never cook for himself. Simon always said that his cooking was shit, and yours was amazing, which was true based on the one and only burnt meal he cooked for you earlier in your dating days. You knew that if it weren't for you, he would skip his meals as he used to do when you weren't around. But that is not something you could allow anymore.

Taking his face in your hands, you made him look up at you.

Simon frowned, moody. "What?" His accent sounded thicker than ever when he whispered.

"I don't have food ready for us. I fell asleep watching TV, and it started raining, so you know how I get sleepy when it's rainy outside..." Si didn’t let you finish.

"Doesn't matta,'" he said, putting his face back into your neck.

"But..."

"It's alright, luvie. Let's just order some food."

You felt your cheeks blush at his calm attitude. You loved that about Simon, he would yell, and reprimand anyone outside of your home, but you? You were not one of the people on his list. He could never raise his voice at you, never mistreat you. How? You were a sweet little thing that deserved nothing more than thoughtful and gentle care.

"You never get mad at me. You should sometimes, you know? I also make mistakes," you said, completely overcome by guilt.

"No, you don't," he argued, voice muffled against your neck. His hands traveled upward to your waist, where he squeezed you lovingly. "And even if you did something, I wouldn't get mad. It's not good for you."

Your heart squeezed at his words. Simon was so aware of your fear of men and violence that he knew better than to be the cause of your distress. He would rather cut his throat first than ever shout at you in an angry fit and watch you flinch, as he had seen happen in the past with strangers in the street. Even though the shouting was not directed at you, he had seen your shoulders hunch like you wanted to hide inside of yourself and disappear.

No, he would never make you feel that way. You were too precious for him, too soft.

"If I ever shout at you, shoot me with the gun hidden in the cabinet."

"I wouldn't."

Simon snorted as he changed positions and lied on his back, putting you on top of him and wrapping you in his arms.

"I'll do it myself, then."

You punched him in the shoulder at his stubbornness.

"Stop that nonsense. There will be no shooting at anyone."

Si grabbed your hand and pressed it to his lips to kiss every nuckle. His eyes connected with yours in a way that made your heart skip.

"Anybody hurts you, and I'll take care of it. That includes me. But no worries, luvie. I wouldn't let such a pretty girl like you go away."

And you knew he meant it by the way his hands gripped your hips with enough strength that you couldn't move, but enough softness that it wouldn't bruise. You also knew there wasn't any other way that you wanted this to be, you were perfect for each other, and both of you knew it.

☆☆☆

this is my first time ever writing fanfiction (or attempting it), english isn't my first language and I just have an immense crush on ghost, so I hope you enjoy!

[mostholy]

soft simon hcs because he's a softie actually.

simon riley who probably freezes up when kissing you because he's just not used to it, not used to how soft you are against him, how when he touches you he feels like he's gonna explode.

simon riley who whines when you get up, mutters something gruff in your ear about how you must be trying ta torture him, gettin' up so soon when you've been cuddling for the last three hours. he follows you like a sad, kicked puppy to the bathroom--god forbid a girl need to take a piss.

simon riley who takes you through the shops and stops every time he finds something he thinks you might like. (even if you definitely don't need it.) "are y'sure, luv? this'd look nice with those pants y'have..."

simon riley who's unintentionally dominant too--he's got a firm hand on the small of your back when you're walking through the grocery aisles, leading you methodically through the lines, prioritizing aisles with less people so you can avoid getting stuck in an awkward shopping-cart-traffic-jam.

simon riley who's gently grabbing your wrist and pulling the plastic bags from your hands when you try to grab them from the trunk, pulling your wrist up to his mouth to give your knuckles a placating kiss.

simon riley who's coaxing you inside with a head tilt, and you're just complying, the poor guy completely blind to how he's got you wrapped around his finger without even realising it, because he thinks he's undeserving of you!!! he's the one who's head over heels, not you!!!

simon riley who proposes to you in bed when you've helped him through the aftermath of a nightmare, quietly whispering against your ear, "you should marry me." because he's realising that he can't do it without you.

[mostholy]

Drunk!reader who asks for Simon Riley’s hand in marriage.

You were shit faced, thanks to being terrible at drinking games. Gaz and Soap had set you up so you’d spill your guts. You weren’t very close to anyone in the 141, everything had a strong workplace boundary to you that no one could cross. Not even into friendly co-workers. You did your job and went home. Did the alcohol do anything to you? all they did was knock you out… until you woke up, tipsily standing up.

“Fuck lass, d’ye need to throw up?” Soap goes to hold you steady but you swat his hand away.

“Shut up.”

“Aaaand she’s back.” Gaz laughs, you scowl at him bit turn away. They figure, you’re just going to the bathroom. Nothing serious. But you manage to get yourself to the bar, where Simon, Price and some other man are chatting away. You tug at his jacket, looking down at the floor.

“Are you okay—“

“—Please marry me Lieutenant.” 

It’s not Simons first marry-go-round with lower ranks confessing, it’s happened a few times. His first proposal? This was new. His brow raises under his mask.

“Sweetheart—“

You sniff, finally looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes that are welling up with tears, “—You won’t marry me?”

And he tries again to hush you but he’s only met either more babbles, “I want to marry you Lieutenant, I’ll be good for you. I’ll make you anything you want, so w-why won’t- hicc- why won’t you marry me?”

You’re boo-hoo crying, gripping onto his jacket, and wiping your tears, all the while, John and his mates are having a good laugh, on just how Ghost will handle this situation.

“Fuckin hell, havent said tha, have I?” He sighs, brushing your hands out the way, and lightly dabbing the tears coming from your eyes with this thumbs. You’re too cute for your own good. Hiccuping, and furrowing your eyebrows.

“You should take her home Simon,” John pipes in, smirk on his lips. “Make sure she gets home safe.”

Simon grumbles something incoherent, sweeping you off your feet bridal style, and out of the Bar.

You cuddle into Simons neck when the chill of the night hits you, still mumbling with a pout, “When will you marry me? Wanna get married to you Ghost.”

Simon finally, lets out a breathy laugh, pressing your foreheads together,

“Was plannin on askin tha anyways dovie, you beat me to it though.”

a/n: what did Sabrina Carpenter say? Short and sweet.

most recent

[mostholy]

.。o○ [ simon riley after his marriage ]

ah this is no smut, total fluff probably hehehee (´▽｀*) and I wrote this in one sitting...

—

How long has it been? Ah, nearly seven months now and Simon wouldn't lie if he's been dying to return home. It's never been like this before, but ever since he married you, he never thought to be this attached. A grumpy big guy he is whenever he returned safely from the mission, Price never thought he'd deal with this side of him.

Meh, not that he'd argue, it's adorable, sure, but listening to those silent sighs whenever he talks, kind of annoying, you know?

"We will be back soon, Simon, behave," Price reminded him after the brief, mention about the last mission and the rest.

Simon didn't reply, but that look in his eyes tells every soul what expression he was making. He wouldn't disobey the captain, though. And the mission went smoothly, that sounds good right?

Shortly, after departing with others and spending nearly seven hours from the airport just to return to you, he made it. And the sight of your pretty eyes are more than just gift.

"Simon!" You scrambled to his arms like a baby, hugging him so tightly that if you're any stronger than him you'd probably suffocate the big guy. "I knew you'd keep it a secret."

Ah, fun fact, Johnny ruined Simon's surprise by telling you that he's on the way home. But none of that matters now, because Simon finally have you in his arms again. He's been missing you like crazy he felt like melting into your arms and won't wake up.

That sounds bad but not exactly what he meant.

After taking shower, having dinner with you, finally, bedroom. Nothing special, but when Simon saw you just sprawled on the bed, your tank top riding up just a little to reveal your tummy—Simon lost it. You gained weight! He thought you must be not eating well because you're worried about him, but you're not!

Without further ado, he just pounced on you and bury his unmasked face into your exposed tummy and hummed. That surprises you, obviously. "There's no baby in there, I promise... I won't lie."

Simon chuckles, feeling your legs on either side of his body. You're healthy, you've been taking care of yourself. It's good, he wouldn't expect he'd be more relieved knowing this. So, he looked up, and smile, kissing your tummy until you giggle.

Oh, you sounds sweet.

"Should we put one, then?"

Your eyes widened and snapped down at him. "Simon, no."

"Right," he replied, nodding seriously only to give your tummy a playful bite that makes you yelp. "It should be twins, right?"

"Simonn!"

—

kirayamee, 2025 ][ do not copy

[mostholy]

“give me a kiss,” you demand. 

simon chuckles, standing to his fullest height and making no accommodations for you. this has been going on for at least ten minutes now – the bastard just won’t let you have your way. mask off and wearing civilian clothing, a rare occurrence, he washes the dishes in the kitchen, refusing to give in. 

“si, don’t be mean. i want a kiss.” you groan when soap suds find their way onto your face. “ugh, don’t flick soap on me. please, si. just kiss me. once. once is all i ask for.”

his back muscles ripple with barely concealed laughter. “don’t be botherin’ me when i’m washin’ up, lovie. ain’t wise.”

“give me a kiss!”

glancing down at you, eyes crinkled in the corner with mirth, his lips twitch. “get it y’rself, woman. go on. come take it from me.”

you creep under his beefy arm, tucking yourself between his broad body and the cold sink. truly cruel, you know he knows that you can only reach his chin on your tiptoes, jumping a little. still, you don’t give up. brushing kisses onto his chin, his neck, his jaw, you do everything in your power to lay a solid one on his lips. 

to no avail. 

forehead pressed to his chest, you sigh. “fine, mean bastard. you win. i give up. no kisses for me tonight, i guess.”

soaked, fingers pinch your chin, tilting your head back. you see simon’s eyes soften, drifting to your mouth before he leans in, grazing your lips with his tenderly. he doesn’t slip a tongue in, doesn’t deepen the kiss, just lingers, like he’s absorbing your warmth, processing the softness of your skin, and rejoicing in the comfort of being at home. 

“mmm, missed ya,” he says. 

you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close and pecking his lips over and over again. “i missed you too, si. always.”

he kisses your forehead. “won’t have to soon. i’ll do right by ya. promise.”

“i know.”

oh, but how little do we know when blinded by love and carried through only by faith and hope.

[mostholy]

Creepy landlord Simon Riley, who, in the dead of winter right before a snowstorm rolls in, decides to turn your heating system way down, leaving your cozy apartment suddenly frigid and oh so very uncomfortable to sleep in, having to layer on the blankets in bed just to keep warm :(

You were miserable and cold, your muscles and joints achy and sore from the bitter weather. You send a text over to Simon, complaining that the heats no longer working, basically giving nasty Simon the green light to come over and take care of his pretty girl, craving your soft body against him. You don’t have to wait long before he’s shouldering your front door open, broad shoulders brushing against the door frame, inviting himself inside your home. Simon gives some lame excuse for the heating not working, something… something… blocked ducts and the pilot lights off. He’ll fix it tomorrow. Promise lovie.

But now that he’s here… you can’t expect him to leave. The snowstorm’s already here, the clean roads now coating in a thick blanket of powder too dangerous to drive in, the wind howling like a pack of wolves. It’s dark out too, you’ll let him stay overnight, right? He’s cold too, you know.

Now that the ‘ice’ was broken in your relationship, Simon was making himself really comfortable in your place, making you each a cup of hot tea before bed, delivering it right to you. He’s pulling all the strings tonight, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips because he knows he’s got a stupidly big dick. You can see it bobbing with every step he takes, sittin’ down on the bed beside you, manspreading his thick thighs wide so you can catch a glimpse of thick print against the fabric, seeing it grow harder for you and twitch from you blushing :) 

And when Simon finally slips under the covers with you, he’s like a human furnace. Cocooning you in a bundle of blankets, rough hands clumsily pawing at the fat of your hips, tugging you closer to him, the bed feeling like the warmest and softest thing ever with Simon there. His hard, broad chest pressed against your back while his strong, thick arms wrapped around your tummy possessively. It was so hard to ignore the hot and heavy cock pressing against you, Simon grunting a little, trying to be subtle as he ruts his hips against you insistently.

Simon's thrusts were desperate and sloppy, as if he was trying to press inside you even through the fabric of your clothing, grumbling on about how ‘skin to skin contact was the best and healthiest way to share body heat’ as he tugs off your pajamas. It was also hard to ignore the fluttering in your lower tummy, allowing the huge brute to sink his fat cock inside your wet pussy. He was just trying to be a good landlord, wanting to keep his lovely tenant warm, that means from the inside too :)