qmalley - Tumblr blog

[qmalley]

EMS AU THINGYYYYYYY 🚑🚑

(lets be honest i have no idea what part im on)

It was a typical day at the base, with soldiers coming and going, and you were in the supply room trying to locate some elusive medical supplies. As you rummaged through a particularly cluttered shelf, a mindless distraction you had put upon yourself, you heard a voice from behind you.

“Hey, doc! You seen the new med kits for the flighters?"”

You turned to see Sergeant Barnes, a gruff but generally friendly man known for his no-nonsense attitude. He had a reputation for being blunt, like someone else who currently occupied 99% percent of your thoughts so you stammered for an answer as the words processed.

“Oh! The ones with the oxygen, that's right, I just put the order in so-” you began.

Barnes cut you off with a chuckle. “Yeah, I actually didn't care- So, you and Ghost, huh?”

You froze, what the fuck did he mean by that? Who else knew of that. “Sorry," you break your continuous breath holding with a panicked laugh, "Sorry, what?”

Barnes leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying your confusion. “The whole base is talking about you and Ghost. Apparently, you two had quite the night.”

You blinked, trying to piece together what he was saying, if it wasn't for the tears that were threatening your eyes (which you had to admit was a more pathetic than you cared to admit) you would see him look oh so smug. “I’m afraid...I-I don't follow.”

Barnes grinned. “You don’t know? People are saying you and L.T> Riley are more than just colleagues. Got everyone’s tongues wagging.”

You wanted to puke. He had assured you nothing had happened!! He swore on it! Or .. you would assume he would've sworn on it if you happened to ask him.

Before you could respond, the door to the supply room swung open, and Johnny walked in, looking for something—or perhaps someone. When he saw you standing there with a bewildered expression, his eyes lit up.

“Oi, what’s all this then?” Johnny asked, noticing Barnes’s grin.

Barnes raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the timing. “Just filling the doc in on the latest rumor.”

Johnny’s face lit up with recognition, and he turned to you, eyes wide with a mix of amusement and sympathy, "Ah, one of the rookies heard me n Gaz talkin in the galley, lass-"

You started at him, exasperated. "And you were saying-you were saying the lieutenant and I had sex??"

“Welcome to base life,” Johnny said, his grin widening. “Chit-chat here spread faster than the common cold...Anyway, wanna ask you if yer doin alright?”

"Per the request of the big man. " Barns chipped in with a cheeky smile.

Johnny scoffed, "Nonae bee-wax, is it?" A pause, "But yes."

You shook your head, trying to process the absurdity, you had just gotten this position and the idea of your trying to sleep your way through probation was disgusting. So his words went through your head. “ We didn't have sex! I would... I just had a bit too much to drink, and he helped me get back to my- his room. That’s all.”

Johnny stared at you, seeming to be a bit taken back by your ramble, "Right-O, uh... You need ta sit?"

"No I'm fine, the...the med kits," you force the words out, looking to Barns, "I should have them ready within the week."

The man took that as a reasonable answer and left with a shrug, Johnny turned to you with a sympathetic look. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think the gossip would spread so quickly. But, if it helps, the whole thing should blow over soon enough.”

You nodded, looking to him, "Right...and why are you here again?”

A short moment passed before he spoke again, "Simon wanna me to check in on you?"

"If he is oh-so-concerned he can talk to my fucking face like a man." You snap back, you take a breath, "Sorry, I'm sorry, this is the tenth time someone has come to me and spoken about this stupid- stupid!-"

"Gossip?"

"Shut up." You huff, "Tell him I'm fine."

"you don't look fine." Johnny spoke quietly, when he saw you look back to him he relented, "You're perfect!! wonderful even! Reporting that back."

--

"Hold on-" Mary's laughter rung through the phone, "Wait what the fuck!? You, sweet little ol you, FUCKED the masked freakazoid?? Girl-"

"No!" You cry out from where you had buried your face into the pillow, "We didn't! i got drunk and he helped me and the next thing I know is that i'm in his room and in his clothes and I walk out and I feel so...UGH"

Mary laughs for what you thought was a solid minute, "Jesus, so...did you...ya know?"

"No!! For the millionth time. I swear if I hear the S word one more time I will throw myself off a cliff."

"Right, well, it'll blow over. everyone will go to pick on the new topic in like...five hours."

You turn your face to stare at the wall, the screen of your phone lighting up the ceiling, "this sucks."

"Eh, it sucks more when you don't have the scary man obsessed with you." "EXCUSE ME-" "Oh wow look at the time! Gotta go!"

--

"She alright?"

Johnny winced to the first question that came out of Simons mouth and he shrugs, the words not quite forming, "She...She alive, al'igh." The silence was deafening, sure he knew his friend was generally apathetic and somewhat cruel at times but in the same way he had found Simon cared for him he also, somehow, cared for you.

So he sits down on the egde of the building and shrugs, "As long as she ain't the one keepin ya alive I feel like your safe."

Simon nodded, "I'll go have a chat."

" HORRIBLE IDEA?????"

_--

Am I aware I have little zero idea where I left off in this series, yes. But I vaguely remember and I'm lazy so here you go!!

[qmalley]

being price’s youngest and only daughter would mean inheriting simon riley’s guard dog privileges by default. that stray dog of a man bares his teeth at anyone who dares to question his handler captain so it only makes sense that he would lay down his life for you too 🫶

he would have absolutely zero boundaries too :(

[qmalley]

“If it is destroying you then it is not love my dear.”

— Unknown

[qmalley]

nothing just simon riley healing your childhood trauma totally not based on how my father’s abuse impacted me throughout my adult life

he notices how you walk on eggshells around him quite often, going quiet on him the second one of his responses sounds even slightly disinterested. he wasn’t trying to sound rude, he was just tired and his brain was trying to concentrate on listening to you and watching the football

“are you mad at me?”

you break the silence but that wasn’t a necessity for simon. he wasn’t uncomfortable with the silence the way you were. your question is enough to make him break his attention away from the tv. he furrows his eyebrows at you, taking in the way you nervously tug at the sleeves of your hoodie

“no. why would I be mad at you?” he answers but he acts like his words are an obvious statement. they’re not, not to you at least. you feel embarrassment creep up your neck and engulf your cheeks as you turn to pretend you’re watching the match on tv

“no reason. just leave it.” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders and leaving him even more confused than before. he watches you out of the corner of his eye for the next fifteen minutes until he just nudges his knee against yours and raises his arm up for you to snuggle under

you’re quick to curl into him, hiding your face in his chest and hugging him like he’s going to rip the comfort away from you at any second,

“whaddya call a woman standin’ in the middle of a tennis court?” he says, squeezing you tight against his chest when you look up at him as you ponder the answer. you soon give up and just shrug your shoulders again

“annette.”

[qmalley]

Soft Spot Master List

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - Complete

a series of oneshots that aren't coherent enough to be an actual book plot wise, but still take place in the same universe.

read on ao3! | playlist | dissection links

Blood Soaked Cotton: Simon Riley finds himself oddly attached to the kind woman who works at the bank he frequents. He tells himself it’s just a friendly connection and nothing more. But the day he walks in and sees the marks, he realizes just how much of a soft spot he’s developed for her.

Smoldering Butterflies: You’ve been haunting Simon Riley for awhile now. Even with the distance, he keeps you in his back pocket.

The Emptiness had Always Been There: You dig the knife in deep. Simon isn’t scared. Why isn’t he scared?

Until You: Simon is the only place that feels like home anymore, and you can’t get enough of him.

Some Other Life: The Ghost himself is haunted. Not just by the past, but by what could have been. But he’s not the only one running.

Death of Me: (three parts)

part 1: Simon returns back from deployment. Normally he comes home carrying nothing but exhaustion, but this time he brings back something that will be the death of him. part 2: You and Simon attend the military ball, and you finally get to come out of the shadows. part 3: Simon finally asks you to dance. It ends up being a lot more than you anticipated.

part 1: After Simon was captured, your entire world was turned upside down. Despite the beatings, Simon handles himself well in the face of the enemy, like a true soldier would. Unfortunately, his captor is a very patient man. part 2: Task Force 141 is restless without their Ghost, and the moment the red tape is lifted, they travel to speak with Mark Sizov himself. Meanwhile, you're invited to a Halloween dinner by a co-worker, but the idea of anything to do with Halloween leaves you feeling just that - hollow.

7. Worse than Death: Your holiday with Simon is short and doesn’t go quite as planned. A new member joins the family just in time for another one to leave.

8. Honey and Milk: (two parts)

9. Everything You Touch: (four parts)

part 1: "You can't hold onto me forever." part 2: "You knew what would happen." part 3: "Everything you touch ends up like this, kid." part 4: "You deserve better."

10. Sun Bleached Flies: (two parts)

part 1: Healing never comes as fast and easy as you want it to, but you try and adjust to your new life as best as you can. The thing is, there is no going back, there is only going forward, no matter how much you wished it was otherwise. part 2: Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

11. Ischemia: Scars have healed, and the sun shines brighter, but something is still eating at Simon.

12. When Your Blood Meets Mine: (three parts)

part 1: something terrifying is writhing underneath your skin part 2: it's growing part 3: it's scary

13. Soft Spot: (five parts)

part 1: someone's opening old wounds part 2: it's hard to clear your mind with so much smoke part 3: you're so used to the teeth that they don't even hurt anymore part 4: the only pain not born of violence is love. Epilogue

Soft Spot Dissection

Blood Soaked Cotton

Extras:

non-canon request: bath time (takes place after "everything you touch")

Simon and Spook fanart by @iluvcove

[qmalley]

my baby swingin’ — simon (ghost) riley

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

> a bunch of snapshots of simon and his pretty little sweetheart’s adventures.

!! suggestive - minors dni; canon divergence; no chronological order (basically a bunch of loosely-tied worldbuilding); subtle and hinted age difference; reader gets princess treatment because she deserves it so!!

: im the one who’s the most confused as to how my obsession with biker!simon started but im stringing u along anyway so pls have fun!! my inbox is open for brainworms <33

for all posts, pls click on biker!simon tag <33

part 01 - intro post; headcanons

part 02 - simon can’t wait to come home to you

part 03 - getting over your fear of riding a bike

part 04 - lap sitting (a visual); ask

part 05 - simon and your first meeting; ask // extra 01

part 06 - little donuts at the park <;33

part 07 - simon’s instagram account (includes visuals); ask

part 08 - teasin’ each other on their way home; ask; suggestive

part 09 - body worship (a visual); ask; suggestive

part 10 - getting over your fear of riding a bike sequel! (a visual); ask

part 11 - mutual desperation spilling over; smut

part 12 - burning from all these messages; smut

part 13 - scary mask!! (a visual); ask

part 14 - of prince charming and care packages

part 15 - scary ghost? yes. protective ghost? yes <;33; ask

part 16 - safe drive!; ask

part 17 - simon and your first meeting cont.; ask; smut

part 18 - fun times on his bike; ask; smut

-

extra 02 - your nephew’s new favourite adult (a visual); ask

extra 03 - biker!konig makes an appearance!!! (a visual); ask

extra 04 - smack! smack! smack! (a visual); ask

extra 05 - picking up the backpack (a visual); ask

extra 06 - you don’t use it, you lose it; ask

extra 07 - price on a harley; ask

extra 08 - helmet kiss (a visual); ask

extra 09 - ‘girls cum first’ sweater (a visual); ask; smut

extra 10 - tf141 and their shared backpack princess; ask

extra 11 - period cramps and cuddling; ask

extra 12 - of checkpoint videos & dashing men (a visual); ask

extra 13 - no backpacks allowed (a visual); ask

extra 14 - he slipped!! (a visual); ask

extra 15 - her famous luvr; ask (a visual)

extra 16 - keys and kisses; ask

extra 17 - simon announcing his girl (includes visual!); ask

extra 18 - careful now (a visual); ask

extra 19 - they’re friends??

extra 20 - pretty blue lace; ask; smut

extra 21 - dad!simon (a visual); ask

extra 22 - lil smut (a visual); ask

extra 23 - riding on the rain (a visual); ask

extra 24 - girl dad simon; ask

extra 25 - gorgeous and protective (a visual); ask

extra 26 - zip that shit up (a visual); ask | recent!

-

dear john - dbf!simon

↳ for all toxic/dbf simon pls click on dbf!simon tag!!

toxic dad’s best friend biker!simon au; ask; angst + smut

‘dear john’: cont. of toxic dad’s best friend biker!simon au; ask; angst + suggestive

mini cont of dear john; ask

dear john (but it’s john price); ask

dear john (how he fucks); smut

dear john (as illicit affairs); ask; angst + smut

dear john (illicit affairs origin); angst + smut

dear john (illicit affairs origins but as reader); ask; angst + suggestive

dear john (reader moving on); ask | recent!

-

subset 01 - best friend n biker!simon au; ask

subset 02 - best friend n biker!simon au cont.

subset 03 - bimbo!reader

unofficial extra - baker!simon

-

i have a short taglist so pls lmk if you would like to be tagged too ^v^ no more taglist

(updated: 16 march 2024)

[qmalley]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ fantasy smut, description of a threesome, hospital/medical jargon request: team dinner, sick fic, someone drops the L word

"Cannae get over the size of the lad."

Orion's got a fist curled around Johnny's fingers, trying and failing to pull them into his mouth.

"I know." You roll your eyes, inclining your head towards Simon. "Are you really surprised though?"

Everyone laughs. Simon warms.

You've broken out of your shell, piece by piece over the course of dinner, shyly getting to know everyone, watching their banter and usual bullshit.

He wasn't sure it was possible, but the way you tease Soap makes him love you even more.

"No, suppose not." Soap laughs, and you smile at him, full and bright, so cute he could tug you into his lap right here in front of his entire team, spread you wide for them to see, show them how much of a good girl you are. How perfect you are, how you cum on his fingers, how tight your pussy squeezes. Of course, he'd never let Johnny or Kyle touch you, too much inexperience, too much raw energy, but his captain-

he'd help you take John's cock. Hold your back to his chest, pull your knees up towards your ears. You'd whine and cry and he'd lick your tears, telling you how pretty you are with his captain's fat cock in your belly, reaching down to rub your clit and spread his fingers over where you're stretched.

It's fantasy. Nothing more. He's shared girls with John in the past, but the things they did as younger men are in the past, where they belong. They’re both too possessive, obsessive, and neither could bear it.

You'll never know another man again.

"Okay," Cami claps, pulling his attention, "Pie?"

"I'll help." You push your chair back, leaning over to press a kiss against Orion's cheek, and then stand, brow crinkled, slowly blinking.

Everything in Simon goes cold, muscles tensing. Something is wrong. He calls your name, but you don't respond. "Hey, hey mama-" In a split second, he hands the baby to Soap, turning back just in time to see your legs buckling, falling towards the edge of the table, where Price leaps from his seat, catching you with a forearm.

Chairs scrape, Cami shouts, Gaz starts dialing as you're lowered to the floor, his captain's fingers firm under your jaw. "Pulse is elevated." Nausea roars, skull pressurizing as Simon drops to his knees at your side, holding your face between his hands. He says your name, says it over and over, desperation and fear cracking the syllables, splitting them wide. You're breathing, but your heart is racing, triple a normal rhythm.

This is his fault. He should have pushed you harder to see a specialist, should have paid better attention, should have taken better care of-

Orion starts to cry.

"They're on their way." Gaz tells the room calmly, level head prevailing. It jolts Simon, orients him, pulls him out of a dreadful spiral and back to the needs at hand. He holds onto it, composure barely a shred as he strokes his thumb across the apple of your cheek, counting your breaths, gaze locked on the rise and fall of your chest.

"It's okay," he says, hoping somewhere behind your closed eyes, you can hear him, "it's gonna be alright, honey. I'm here, 'm right here."

Time passes in a blur, everything happening too quickly and all at once, medics arriving, flat keys passing to Gaz and Cami, who offer to take Orion home and stay there for as long as needed, John and Soap promising they'll meet him at the hospital as you're loaded into the back of the ambulance, Simon stepping in behind.

"She's gonna be alright, LT." Johnny yells right before the doors close, confidence in his eyes. It's hopeful, and firm, and Simon clings to it as they race down the road, unable to look away from where you lay with an oxygen mask fitted over your nose and mouth, monitors beeping too quickly in the foreground on the sirens.

"Mr Riley?" He turns from his pacing on a dime, registering the subtle jerk from the nurse before her expression turns placid. "Your wife is conscious, we've admitted her for some testing. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes." He croaks, looking over his shoulder at Johnny and Price, who give him a serious nod. Testing. Admitted. Christ. "What happened? Is she..." he loses his words, fear seizing his lungs yet again, before he manages a breath, "is she going to be okay?" They come to a stop in front of a room, and the nurse gives him a sympathetic smile.

"She's conscious, heart rate down to a healthy bpm. The cardiologist will be by shortly to discuss everything with you." It's a non answer, building frustration in the pit of his stomach, but he nods. "Found him!" She announces as she opens the door, and you smile from across the room.

He's never closed a distance so fast in his life.

"Hey-" He covers your mouth with his, hand on the back of your head. He was supposed to protect you, keep you safe, and look where you are. "Whoa." You whisper, and he shakes his head.

"Scared me to death."

"I'm sorry. I d-don't... I don't know what's wrong." Your voice creaks, breaking on a thick note, and he pulls a chair as close as he can manage up to the bed, holding onto your hand.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay. We're gonna figure it out, alright?" You nod, lower lip rolling, trembling, and he wants to wrap you up, rip himself open and bury you inside his heart, hidden away from everything, anything that could hurt you, even your own body.

"Orion?"

"Went home with Kyle and Cami. They'll stay as long as we need them." You sniffle, tear spilling down your cheek. He feels sick.

"Shhh, you're alright, mama."

"I'm scared." You're crying now, trying to wipe your face with trembling fingers.

"I know. I know you are, but it's going to be okay. I'm here, 'm gonna make sure you're taken care of. Take a breath f'me," your inhale is shaky, but you manage it, and he smiles encouragingly, "that's it- good."

The knock on the door comes a few seconds later, and Simon swallows everything threatening to upend him as the doctor steps in the room. It's okay. It's okay.

"Mrs Riley?" You manage a raised eyebrow in Simon's direction, and he gives you a small smile. Best to not get into it. You clear your throat.

"That's... me."

"A what?"

"A tilt table test. It's the most accurate test for diagnosing POTS." You're nervous, Simon can tell, glancing continually at him, who is latched onto every word coming from the doctor's mouth.

"What... how does it work?"

"We lay you flat on a table, and then after a few minutes, tilt you directly upright. At the same time, we track your heart rate with an ECG, and your blood pressure with a cuff. If the tilt doesn't trigger the response, we usually start an IV to give you a little bit of medicine which can provoke the response so to speak, if needed." You gulp.

"Is it safe?" Simon grits, the idea of you strapped to table with wires and an IV making his head spine.

"Very safe," the doctor reassures patiently, "the test has little risk of complications." You squeeze Simon's hand, and he squeezes back. I'm here.

"Okay, let's... let's do it then."

The test takes too long. Every minute, every second you're not within eye sight breaks him down, threatens to derail his level head.

By the time you’re back in the room, he’s resumed pacing, hand rubbing the back of his neck raw.

“Hi.” You smile. You seem… better. More relaxed, less scared. It soothes him.

“Hey mama. Everything go alright?”

“I fainted during the test.” You whisper, and he brings your hand to his lips.

“That’s alright.”

It’s POTS. More severe than a standard case, the doctor says, explaining how an off label side effect of a specific medication helps treat the condition. In addition, he goes over things that may exacerbate it, caffeine, alcohol, stress, and promises you can still breastfeed on the medicine and resume normal activity.

There’s a plan. A treatment. An answer, and Simon likes that. He likes knowing the path ahead, how to better care for you, how to make sure you’re supported, and you’re more comfortable too, happy to know there’s an end in sight for your symptoms.

What started as a terrifying experience ends as an okay one, and when the two of you relieve Gaz and Cami at home, he can’t help but pull you into his body, Orion snuggled in your arms.

“Want to tell me what that Mrs. Riley thing was about?” He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can muster.

“I love you, mama, and you’re going to be my wife. Might as well get you used to the name sooner rather than later.” He doesn’t miss your sharp intake breath, the shiver cascading over your skin.

Your head tips back, lips parted, and he kisses you long and slow, holding you tight, safe in his arms.

Where you belong.

[qmalley]

[qmalley]

simon stands still, his heart melting and his lips forming an adoring smile as his eyes land on your sleeping form on the couch.

you decided to take a nap, your naps getting longer and more frequent since the fatigue has increased over the last few weeks.

earlier today, he helped you when you emptied your stomach, slouched over the toilet while sobbing as he rubbed your back and cooed praises and reassuring remarks to you.

when you felt the nausea die down a bit and fatigue taking over, you flopped on the couch and nodded off pretty quickly as simon went over all the stuff in the kitchen to make you something simple that you can stomach right now.

he left the kitchen to check up on you and found the most beautiful scene before him, his lovely wife who's carrying his child, his whole world resting before his eyes.

your hand rests on your exposed belly instinctively. you're not showing yet. it's been only three months since you've become pregnant.

you shift a bit in your place on the couch as your eyes slowly flutter open upon feeling a pair of eyes on you only to be met by your loving husband standing over you while his eyes sparkle with pure love.

"hey, si." your lips curve in a hazy smile and he steps forward to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his and whispering "i love you."

"i love you too, baby." you murmur back as he lifts your hand and presses a soft kiss on the back of your palm.

"what's wrong, love?" you ask worriedly after you witness a stray tear leave his eye and you try to sit up.

you caress his cheek and wipe the tear away, "nothing, baby. everything is perfect." he mutters with a soft smile and slightly turns his head to kiss your palm.

and a wide grin makes its way to your lips as it dawns on you what he means and you move forward to embrace him tightly in your arms. everything is truly perfect.

[qmalley]

[qmalley]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

When Simon had given you his work address, and the password for the door to get in, you’d scoffed at the thought of needing to use it. You’d grown comfortable in your quiet life, no longer plagued with the urge to run, with the fear of being caught up with. 

You and Charlotte. 

You’d never been able to picture your position now, shaking fingers prodding at the keypad, a crying Charlotte on your hip. So absorbed in your fear, which had struck you the moment you’d returned from Charlotte’s school pickup to see your apartment door open, that you don’t even see the bearded man opening up the door from the inside for you. 

“Everything alright, Miss?” He questions in clear concern, ushering you into the entry hall with blue eyes darting between yourself and your wailing daughter. 

“I’m here - Simon said i could find him here if I needed anything.” You hiccup, not even having noticed the tears ebbing down your cheeks, so consumed by the realisation that you need to get out. Find safety. Find Simon. Maybe even that other man you met once - Mac something.

Too distraught to protest, you allow yourself to be ushered into some sort of reception room, noting the way the older man looks behind you with a vigilant scan before shutting the door. "Is Simon Riley here?" You plead with him again, terrified at the thought of being unable to see your neighbour, having someone to soothe your wailing daughter whilst you yourself calm down.

Before the blue eyed man can get a word out, two other men are barrelling into the reception area, one of them, thankfully, being Simon. You can't help but choke out a relieved sob when he tentatively comes closer, allowing you the chance to deny his approach, which you don't.

"What happened? Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

The entire room seems to pick up into a flurry of activity the minute the other two men in the room, Simon's friend you'd met that one time, and the other man, seem to realise that not only do you and Simon know one another, but also that you and the little tot in your arms are important to him.

Simon quickly ushers you to one of the worn leather couches, although he never forces you to sit, seeing how high strung you are at the current moment, the way you clutch Charlotte to your chest like she'll be ripped from your grasp at any given moment. Meanwhile, MacTavish looks on in concern, checking the car park you'd just come in from, and the other man slowly guides a glass of water into your shaking hand.

"Door was open when I got home." You manage to choke, letting Simon ease your vice grip on your daughter, just enough to hoist her up on his hip, before pulling you into his chest.

"S' okay, yeah? Promise you're in good hands here." He soothes, rocking the three of you from side to side, taking the opportunity to share a look between Price, Soap and himself. "Listen, the boys will go and have a look, okay? Promise they won't touch anything or mess anything up, just make sure everything is okay."

You give a hesitant nod, sniffling into Simon's chest as another taller, leaner man walks into the room, his handsome features immediately twisting into concern at the odd sight.

Over the next few hours, you, Simon, Charlotte and the sweet man you'd come to know as Kyle wait out on base, nervously awaiting the return of Captain Price and Simon's closest friend Johnny.

Admittedly, your situation is terrifying, and you're still not quite sure where to go from here, but at least you're in good hands. Four pairs of them.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[qmalley]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: Simon’s past, PTSD request(s): a first, some hard truths

Simon is a professional at quiet.

It's ingrained in him, a piece of his brain rewired from training to make his mass nearly invisible, depending on silence to stay alive.

Sometimes, he thinks he should make more of an effort to make noise at home. He should drag his heel, just barely, enough for a scuff or imbalance of his weight, to make a floorboard creak or groan. He should open doors in a rush, allowing locks and jams to click and clack, alerting whoever is on the other side to his presence.

But if he did, he wouldn't be able to do this, wouldn't be able to stand just outside Orion's room and watch you play peek-a-boo with him, hiding your face with your hands and then sliding them open, smiling so wide it makes his heart skip a beat.

"Where did he go?" You laugh from behind your palms, and reach down to tickle his belly, giggling. "There he is!" Ry is on a changing pad, on the floor (too big now for the changing table) naked except for a fresh nappy, beaming up at you like you're everything.

He and his son are in love with the same woman, he's afraid.

"Where did he go?" You make a show of looking for him, hiding behind your hands, unable to see the way Orion's eyes widen and dart around, clearly seeking your eye contact, before you squeal "there he is!" again and match him smile for smile.

He leans against the door frame, fully aware you still have no idea he's there, and pulls out his phone, desperate to immortalize as many moments as he can, filling his camera roll with pictures and videos of you and the baby so he'll have something to cling to when he's torn away by the next op.

"Where's my baby? Where did he go?" You feign looking around, turning your head from left to right, finally catching Simon out of the corner of your eye, looking from him to the camera, still smiling, sun shining across your face from the window. He smiles back, he can't help it. Once a foreign feeling on his face, now feels so natural when it comes to you. Orion kicks his feet impatiently, and you turn back with a gasp. "There he is!" You tickle him, again, and this time, when you giggle, he does too.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you look at Simon wide eyed. "Oh my god. Did you hear that?" He practically drops his phone and goes to his knees at your side as you lean forward and blow a raspberry on the baby's belly, Orion giggling the whole time.

It hits him like a truck. He feels faint. The floor is uneven. His baby is laughing. The world tilts, and for the thousandth time since he ran into you on the sidewalk, everything looks different. He blinks back the burn behind his eyes as you pull Orion to your chest, kissing his cheek, cupping the back of his head.

"Say, daddy did you hear me? Did you hear me laughing?" You use a smaller voice, one trying to imitate a baby's, peals of bells ringing inside his head. He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to Orion's head, breathing him in, and you lay your head against his chest with a thunk and a sigh. "I can't believe that just happened."

"I know." Orion gazes up at the two of you, eyes flicking back and forth, and you slide your fingers through his wispy hair. The lump in his throat dissipates, and he kisses your forehead. "Thank you." Thank you for this. For everything. For giving him a chance to have a family, for giving him a chance to show his son what a healthy home looks like, what love looks like. For it all.

Your draw back, finding him open and vulnerable, soft parts on display, unguarded. Your free hand cups his cheek, just as he's done countless of times to you. "For what?"

"For giving me everything."

Later, he’s on his back, lazily watching you in the bathroom from your bed as you brush your teeth and talk to your sister.

It’s been a week since you asked him to stay, since he held you through the night, and he’s hardly been back to his short term rental since.

You asked him about it, a few nights ago. Asked how close he lived, since he was back and forth so often, or if he had been making a trek. Wondered how never found him, if he was in the area. The guilt was rife on your face, and anxious to alleviate it, he told you the truth.

“Got a short term flat down the street after I ran into you. Wanted to be close.” You jerk back in his grasp, unbelieving. “My… friend, a bloke I work with, lives in this neighborhood. That’s how I ended up at the bar that night. Sometimes I would crash at his place.”

“You rented a place, to be close to us?”

“Of course I did, mama. Y’really think I was just going to leave you here all alone?”

“I miss her.” You roll into bed from your knee, and he hooks an arm over your waist to tug you into his chest, closing the gap. There’s something soothing about covering the back of your head, your skull, with his palm, fingers splayed in every direction like he’s holding a ball.

He tells himself it’s not because of the dreams. The ones he has where he finds you dead face down in a scarlet red puddle, shot execution style, and Orion missing. Certainly not.

“Who?”

“My little sister.” You snuggle closer, nose to his neck, and he closes his eyes, reveling in each second, counting them slowly.

“Where is she?” You sigh.

“Seville.” Spain? “I used to live there, and she visited once. Fell in love with it. It’s where she goes for school.”

“You lived in Spain?” You nod, sleepily. Feeding Orion always wrings you out, and it was the last thing you did before getting ready for bed.

"Yeah, I used to kind of, float around. Lived in Venezuela briefly too, once. Morocco, Cameroon, Berlin-" Your name is a shredded ribbon from his lips, confused and curious, wrapped up into a jumble of syllables.

“For… fun?”

"I got antsy after uni. Didn't want to just stick around where I grew up, I wanted to do stuff. See stuff. So, I kind of... took off." Of course you did. You might be a kitten, but you're still curious, smart. Bright eyed and enchanted by the world. You probably had a wonderful time running around across the globe. "I'd like to take Orion traveling, you know? Make sure he sees the world, or some of it at least. I'm trying to believe you can still experience life even though you have a baby. Like you can experience life... with your child, right?" His jaw clenches so tight his ears pop. You had big, beautiful wings-

how was he going to clip them?

“Simon?” His name brings him back to earth, to where you're curled up in his arms, warm and soft and safe. He sighs. The conversation looms like a reaper over him, a big, ugly storm brewing on the horizon.

"Let's talk about the travel for when he can at least eat solid food, alright?" The placation burns like acid in his stomach, and you press a kiss to his neck.

“Alright.” He takes a very deep breath.

“But… we do need to talk about something, mama.” Your brow furrows.

“Talk about what?” He doesn’t like the way his heart feels in his chest, a rock sinking to his stomach.

“There’s a lot… you don’t know, honey. A lot about me, and my job.” You stay loose, but pull away to get a better look at him in the glow your bedside table.

“Okay…” It’s meant to prompt him, to lead him to the next step, the one where he starts talking, but the words are frozen in his throat. “Hey,” you dip into his line of sight. “Simon. What is it?” The truth starts to burn. It smolders until it becomes a full flame, spilling out of his mouth, scorching everything in his path. You.

“My family was killed because of me.” You jerk away like he’s slapped you, eyes wide.

“W-what?” Your voice shakes, and he doesn’t blame you.

“My mother, my brother, his son and his wife, they… they died. Because of me.”

“I don’t understand.” Of course you don’t. Why would you?

“It… it doesn’t make sense to start from the middle, so I’d like to tell you… about my life, and my… experiences, if you’re open to listening.” He wanted to hold you for this, wanted to feel your pulse beating beneath his thumb, but you’ve created physical distance, and he doesn’t want to push you. He has to believe he won’t lose you. He doesn’t even want to think about what he might do if you tried to leave. “Please.” His voice cracks, and you nod, timidly.

“Okay, Simon.”

At the end of it all, you’re silent. Shell shocked. Sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around your waist, you stare him, your breathing short and staccato. He reaches for you, trying to bring you comfort, trying to pull you into himself where you would be safe, and loved and held, but Orion starts to cry, fussy, hungry sharp wail piercing the silence, and you tumble out of bed for the door-

leaving him alone in the dark.

[qmalley]

[qmalley]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."

[qmalley]

a quick mafia!ghost x shy!reader drabble | fluff/comfort

It's two in the morning and your hands won't stop shaking.

White hot anxiety courses through your veins where it tingles across your skin and fingertips, making it impossible to hold the crayola markers well enough to do Simon's tattoos justice. Some old history documentary drones on the TV as you carefully color in the intricate designs that stain the expanse of his arms. Countless late nights at work have Simon well trained for staying up late, but you can tell by the bouncing of his leg that he's getting restless. His fingers itch for a late night smoke.

But this tension in your body is insatiable. It ruins your heart with voracious hunger that demands that you keep moving, keep moving, keep moving, because if you sit still, something might break. Something might shatter and tear you apart; laying you out for easy pickings.

Simon's hand reaches out to grab yours, ceasing your repetitive coloring. "Gonna run outta canvas soon, sweetheart."

"You've got another arm," you quip.

And he does. Two, professionally done sleeves make for quite the large showpiece, especially with arms as large as Simon's. But that's not what he's saying. Sizable fingers pry the marker out of your hand, something that you give into quite easily, and you eventually force your gaze to meet his. Fatigue mixes with concern in the deep brown of his eyes, and he discards the marker somewhere on the couch next to him before settling into the cushions and patting his lap.

"C'mere."

Ivory teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sheepishly straddle Simon's hips at his request. There is nothing but respect for you as his hands settle on your waist, bringing you closer to him.

"It's okay to stop," he tells you with a deep, velvet voice.

Your head shakes with a tremor. "I can't. Even if I wanted to, I just- it'll eat me if I don't feed it. I have to... focus on something. Anything else."

Simon pauses, eyelids fluttering in thought. He seems to decide on something as his hands quickly find yours and place them on his sternum, just above his heart. It dances underneath your palms, reverberating through your hands and along your arms, up until it makes way to your own heart. Your breath hitches at the strength of it.

"Focus on this," he urges.

So you do. Soft cheek presses into the fabric of his shirt as you re-situate yourself in his lap, hands feeling for his pulse and aching ears drowning in the sound. Strong, and now colorful, arms wrap around your waist as your eyes flutter shut. On the TV, a lioness feeds her cubs and grooms them with her spiky tongue with a purr. Two dangerous creatures, showing devotion to fragile creatures.

You count 43 heartbeats before you mess up and have to start over. Then 52. Then 15. Then, it's Simon's turn to count. Your breaths come further and further apart before they settle into a gentle snore. A kiss graces the top of your head before he leans back against the couch.

His fingers don't itch for a cigarette anymore. They never do when he's holding you.

[qmalley]

I’m thinking about older bf Simon in some grey sweatpants after shower. Smelling nice and clean, warm and cosy on the couch. And the print of his flaccid cock is visible through the sweatpants 😵‍💫

fuuuuuck FUCK fresh and clean simon about to make me ACT UP 🫶🏼

it was standard for your older bf!simon to shower with the bathroom door open.

you’d queried it, leaning in the door frame watching him struggle to fit under the shower head, slightly obscured by the condensation on the glass.

“need t’keep an ear out, can’t hear y’when it’s shut”

and you never questioned it again. it was filed away with simon’s hatred for noise cancelling headphones and sleeping when you were awake.

it goes hand in hand with “i always know where you are”

so simon showers with the bathroom door open and you don’t complain.

hard to, when you can lay back on your bed and smell the wafting steam with his body wash hinted in it.

when you can turn your head and catch glimpses of the way the water ricochets off his toned body.

when it’s also an open invitation, if you ever wished to join him- he’d welcome you with open arms.

but it also meant, when you were on the couch watching something mindless- you could hear the water shutting off. knowing it meant that any minute-

simon enters the living room with water still dripping off the ends of his cropped hair. bare chested and glistening a little from a rough towel dry.

his hands are still pulling up his sweatpants, grey- the soft ones that feel nice under your cheek when your head is in his lap.

you can tell he’s not got anything under them, you can tell by the visible print that sits just over his left thigh. the one you’re trying your damndest not to fixate on.

simon slots in next to you on the couch, wrapping you up in his arms so you’re pressed to his chest. he smells like adidas after-sport, citrus and musk and inherently man.

you could bury your face in him.

he’s warm, relaxed, content and it’s the moment where you’re melting into one another a little- fitting perfectly together.

“we’re not watching this rubbish”

he breaks the comfortable silence, reaching over you for the remote- he’s been really into cooking shows lately.

and you’re just really into him, letting him commandeer the tv so he can catch up on his kitchen nightmares.

you think you fall asleep to the dulcet tones of gordon ramsay, but it’s probably more the heartbeat under your ear and the firm hand tracing circles on your back.

that’ll do it.

[qmalley]

website