#2queued4u.

[lxvvie]

Gaz and Soap who've been plotting on you since the moment they saw you.

It's coordinated on their part, darling, and you're none the wiser. Gaz ups the charm, Soap ups the flirting, and vice versa. Rinse and repeat. It has your head spinning, leaves you flustered, and you feel like the hottest thing on the planet.

As you should. Because you are the hottest thing on the planet and Kyle and Soap would be damned if you thought otherwise, bonnie.

It's only when Soap has you cornered, your back square against the wall, his hard body pressed against yours, that you realize what's happening. You were too caught up in the way Johnny was leaving hickeys on your neck to see Kyle there, leaning against the other wall and watching everything with a smug grin on his face.

Shit.

"Kyle, I—" You gasped out amidst Soap's ministrations.

"—Shh. Keep going, darling. Let it happen." Kyle practically crooned at you.

You could practically feel Soap's smirk on your skin, and that's when you knew. The worry didn't last long though because he pressed a little harder against you, causing you to feel his hard cock, and oh fuck this is really happening.

Yes. Yes, it fucking is.

Mission complete, boys.

[lxvvie]

Being in a relationship with Mortarion would consist of:

Your relationship just... becoming. There's no fanfare or explanation for it, especially within the Death Guard. It just happens, a quiet build-up of tension into a sudden realization, and oh...

Unsurprisingly, just as polarizing as Mortarion is to some of the Death Guard, it seems that sentiment has been pushed onto you as well. As for why, you do not know.

It's not conventional, this union you two have. There isn't the physical loneliness and desperation of, say, Angron's, but a pervasive... something is there. There's a push-pull in your dynamic that's frustrating and curious to you both.

...Of course, this push-pull dynamic is mostly on Mortarion's end because he's a stubborn bastard who refuses to admit the true extent of your importance to him. For example, he'll shrug from physical touch while simultaneously craving it. Just a simple brush against his armor is enough to make Mortation.exe stop working.

Mortarion isn't the most talkative person so at the very least it's a one-sided conversation and on the other end of the spectrum, he... says stuff. Sometimes. He actually prefers to listen to you more than anything.

Becoming accustomed to his stares. And Mortarion stares. A LOT. At you especially. Perhaps in doing so, you've learned to put a name to the emotions swirling in those depths. You can pick up on scrutiny quite clearly, though.

Mortarion's affection manifesting as protectiveness more than anything else. Why else would he be your personal Death Guard? Similarly, he does go to great measures to see that you know how to properly defend yourself as well.

Just as he keeps his distance from his brothers, so, too, does he do the same when it comes to you. In fact, it's safe to say that you're virtually nonexistent to... everyone save his sons.

Periods marked by significant time apart. Mortarion has his duties to attend to and you're doing you for the most part, but when he does come around after a prolonged absence, he just looms nearby. You're not out of his sight, though.

In fact, you're not far from his thoughts. Of course, he'd never really say it to you but he DOES inquire about your well-being when he's away. His most loyal sons are also charged with watching over you. Did you know that?

For all of Mortarion's... Mortarioness, if there's one thing you know, it's that he'll be there for you as long as he has breath in his body. Even with the frustration of your relationship, wherever you are, there he will be, psyker or not. Or will he...?

[lxvvie]

Simon proposed to you. While drunk.

To be fair, you were a bit merry yourself.

You were in the comfort of your home, enjoying each other's company and the cheap alcohol when you realized Simon was staring at you. Turns out he'd been staring at you for quite a while. He was definitely inebriated, but it was like he was aware just the same. You saw it in his dark eyes. You would have reflected some more if you weren't tipsy.

"...Marry me."

That roused you from your drunken stupor. You think. You guess. Wait a damn minute. You began giggling. Or maybe you always were giggling. Fuck, you didn't know, didn't care to know, but—"Yer drunk, Siiiii." And still, you giggled.

Wasn't gonna deter your soldier, though. He took another swig of his drink, let it settle, eyes never leaving yours, and said, " 'm not drunk. 'm in love, sweetheart," Oh! ...Oh. Oh shit. "Marry me, luv. Make an honest man outta me, yeah?" Simon punctuated his proposal with a loud burp. When did he take his shirt off?

You couldn't be bothered to care. When didn't he have his shirt off around you? And fuck, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he kept staring at you, drunk in love, or maybe—"SURE!"

Smooth. Real fucking smooth. But it was enough.

Simon leaned in to kiss you. At least, he tried to. That's all you remembered until the next morning when you woke up and there he was, comfortably resting on top of you, him in your arms and you in his.

You would've thought last night was a dream if you hadn't seen the drunken text Simon sent the boys later:

im a missus

Yes, you are, Simon. Yes, you are.

And truth be told, you two didn't mind it at all.

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley (Part 2):

Having a giggle/chuckle fest almost every time you are intimate. It first happened at the beginning of your relationship when you would giggle every time you two kissed. It opened the floodgates, had let that nervous energy out, and Simon was right there chuckling with you. ("Heh—aw, fuck me.")

Swearing up and down that you're gonna fuck each other's brains out but as soon as you hit the bed, you and Simon are out like a light. The last time this happened, he was supposed to go down on you, but the next thing you know, you woke up to him fast asleep with his head on your stomach.

Kissing the bridge of his crooked nose and Simon turning into putty every time. Hell, kissing any and every dent, bruise, and scar, and making your man melt.

A nice round of horizontal tango turning into a cuddle session after you comforted Simon through a charley horse. Poor baby.

Initially making the telly watch you two make sex but turns out whatever you're watching was pretty decent after all so you guys are back to watching the telly again.

Getting hot and heavy one time but you were so intrigued with the mole you discovered on Simon's inner thigh that you spent the next half-hour or so trying to find other moles on his body.

Telling Simon that you "always wanted to do this" and when you get him hot, bothered, and hard, it turns out what you always wanted to do was measure him. His disappointment was immeasurable... even if he was interested to know the number.

Twinning in some way, shape, or fashion whenever you're out together.

Talking mad shit about his snoring but let him tell it, he doesn't say shit when you take up about 80% of the bed, covers, and sleep under him.

Speaking of talking shit, having disagreements like every couple does and when you go to bed, you're angrily cuddling each other. And yes, Simon still wants your kisses in the morning, even if you two are still mad at each other. Simon doesn't give a shit, you're still gonna love on him, dammit. And him on you.

Being mad with Simon when he arrived too late to get the creepy crawler that was harassing you. Harassing you by doing what it does best: be a creepy crawler. Simon tells you you'll have to conquer your fear one day. You tell him to conquer the couch tonight lmao.

Agreeing to disagree about the superior ice cream flavor in the house. It's too bad there's not any of his favorite ice cream in the freezer. There's some of yours, though. Why? You didn't get any because it was so superior that you wouldn't "dare sully it with your hands". Cue the judgemental stare and him eating YOUR ice cream afterward. Rude.

Scaring the ever-living shit out of Simon on the rare occasions he gets to sleep in. He woke up to you sitting up in bed with his mask and paint on. Oh, and he calls bullshit. He did not nearly fall out the bed. Nor did he jump. Okay, Simon.

Chilling and drinking with Simon. Finding out he gets hot and sweaty pretty easily and off comes his clothes. Waking up hungover the next morning and you're the big spoon to a naked and equally hungover Simon. Choosing to do fuck all but sleep it off that day.

Playfully calling or referring to him as the Missus, especially in front of your co-workers. When they finally meet Simon and ask him who he is, he replies in pure deadpan Ghost fashion: "The Missus".

[lxvvie]

Ghost who wants you—commands you—to have your way with him.

"Use me, sweetheart."

It's your hand clutching his close-cropped hair, pulling him close, and bloody hell, he's right where he needs to be, face buried—no, he's fuckin' smothered between your soft thighs. You don't hear it, you feel it, his hum of pleasure reverberating throughout your body, his greedy tongue making you jump some, clutch his head even tighter, and grab onto anything else you can to keep your balance.

Your soldier couldn't care less. No thoughts. Just wanna be used. Just want to suck and fuck and kiss and make you cum. Want to taste you, want you to invade his senses, love.

It's Simon grabbing your thighs when you try to move away because he knows you're close.

"It's too much, Si..." "Stop fuckin' movin'."

It's Simon upping the ante because he wants you to cum on his face and wants to taste you when he lights up. " 'm right here," Simon coaxes you, harsh grunts aplenty and breathless, "Cum on me, love."

Wish granted.

You're left panting, catching your breath, and trying to keep steady while Simon lights his cigarette on the third try, slightly trembling from the intensity of his own orgasm (fuck, he loved these jeans). It's Simon, dark eyes boring into yours as his ciggy dangles from his lips, sated, used, and ready for more as he inhales the nicotine, tastes your cum, and bloody fuckin' hell, he's intoxicated.

And all his senses are invaded by you.

[lxvvie]

Simon never experienced true rest until he met you.

Before, resting was like the calm before the storm. It was ingrained in him as a kid, the apprehension in silence, peace being nothing but an illusion before his father struck fear into the family again.

After that, Simon had to busy himself; he had to stay alert for the next thing coming.

When you came along and offered him a chance to rest in the moment, he warily took it, and over time realized that it wasn't bad. It was just... different.

And now, with your relationship strong and well established, Simon takes every opportunity he can to simply... rest.

And rest he does.

You liken him to a cat, your Si-bear, what with the way he nestles under you, the way he leans into your touch, and the way he'll quietly come and make himself comfortable on you whenever you lounge on the couch. He especially enjoys laying between your legs, his head on your stomach, dozing as you run your nails lightly over his scalp.

Rest, then, becomes something Simon looks forward to every time he sees you or comes home. The intimacy he enjoys with you, broad shoulders no longer burdened with work, is reward enough, and sometimes Simon wonders if he'd go through all the bullshit again just to get to this point.

He feels you shift under him and Simon doesn't wonder anymore.

He just rests in the moment.

[lxvvie]

Couples shit with Simon Riley, Newlywed Edition:

You and Simon got married, and Price was the Best Man. Kyle stood on your side, and Soap was the flower girl. He blew bubbles instead of throwing flower petals because you and Soap thought it would be funnier. There's a picture floating around somewhere of Simon staring rather concerningly at a particularly large bubble Soap blew, too.

You two swearing you're gonna fuck all night long on your wedding night... only to crash as soon as you hit the bed. You didn't even take your clothes off. The sexathon came later. You two just woke up, looked at each other, happy as a pair of clams, and bloody hell, you made an honest man out of Simon fuckin' Riley.

Getting each other gag gifts as a wedding present. You were serious about getting him that cockring weren't you, love? Well, he has all the time in the world to make use of it.❤️

Noticing how relaxed and settled Simon is after you two start your married lives. Well, as relaxed and settled as Simon could be, all things considered, but he's not as anxious. He's... content. Happy.

Simon still can't believe it though. He's married. He's bloody married. You married him. A right bastard like him, at that. Simon makes a promise to himself and you to never turn what you two have into the shit show that defined his parents' union, promises to never become the asshole his father was, and it gives him all the strength he needs to combat his demons. He'll fight them every day if means seeing your smiling face, luv.

Simon also using the fact that he's married for shock value for everyone other than 141. He doesn't really tell the others but also doesn't bother addressing the news when it gets out. He just lets it be. It's amusing, though, seeing the confusion and shock on the other soldiers' faces when they find out. "Wait, Lieutenant Riley's married? He has a missus?" Correction: "I'm the missus."

He also jokes with the rest of 141 on some, "Sorry, lads, 'm an honest bloke now," which makes the others snort. Will also use a variant for you, too. "No can do, lovie, you made an honest missus outta me." Pfft.

You've also taken to calling him the Hubster ("Pretty cute, eh, Si-bear?" ".........") and you're banned from saying it in public lmao.

Similarly, you use the shock value to troll your associates. Your coworkers were not expecting Simon of all people to be the one you married. You call HIM the Missus? ("Sure do.") The way they see it, you two are polar opposites. Well, they do say that opposites attract.

Simon buying a chain for his wedding band for when he deploys because even with the gloves on, he refuses to wear his ring near his gun. It's a symbol of you, one of the best fuckin' things to ever happen to him, and he'll be damned if he ever lets the two touch.

You jokingly suggest that because Simon has really taken to the missus thing and ran with it, he should get it tattooed on him. This being Simon bloody Riley, he goes and does exactly that. The shock on your face was worth it all. Cheers, darling.

You two holding hands if only to look at your wedding bands side by side and bloody fuckin' hell, you're falling in love with each other all over again.

[lxvvie]

Simon ‘There Can Only Be One’ Riley

Simon wasn't used to pet names. Would roll his eyes at ‘em. Sure, there was ‘Lt.’ and maybe ‘Ghost’ but outside his job, who the bloody hell would consider those pet names? It wasn’t until he met you that he experienced that saccharine twist in his stomach that came with every ‘darling’ or ‘handsome’ or ‘baby’ that fell from your lips and now he’s bloody crazy about them. While still rolling his eyes of course.

And then he realized that you just use pet names in general.

Fuck no, luv.

And just like that, he jealously guards those precious names like he guards the butterflies in his stomach whenever he’s with you. There can only be one Darling Handsome Baby in your life and that’s him. Simon. Fuckin’. Riley.

And to the last bloke who smiled when you thanked him and called him darling? Count your days, mate.

[lxvvie]

Your Missus coming home after another night out with the boys.

Kyle and Johnny had taken Simon out again. Good lot, those two. He needed it, desperately so in your opinion.

So when he came home in the wee hours of the morning, pissed beyond belief, so much so that Kyle and Johnny were practically holding him up, well...

You figured Simon didn't know where he was. He'd taken one good look at you, or rather through you if his blurry gaze was any indication, and slurred out, "...'m sorry, luv, but I'm a taken missus."

Yes. Yes, you are, Simon.

You helped the boys get him situated. Simon refused to leave the couch, though. You made Johnny and Kyle crash in the spare bedroom and busied yourself helping your husband out of his clothes. His back would be an outright bitch in the morning. You can't say you didn't warn him. "Yer a good one, mate," Simon slurred as he sluggishly helped you take his shoes off, "Jus' like muh missus."

"That so? What's your missus like?" If you can't beat him, join him.

"Bes' fuckin' thing," he started, burping before laying down on his back. Simon looked at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, fighting sleep yet two seconds from passing out, "Made o'good stuff, lovin' a bastard like me..." Your heart swelled with love, pride, and a little sorrow. You'll make sure to triple the amount of kisses you give him. After his hangover, that is.

"Yer made o'good stuff, too, mate," he trailed off sleepily, "Gonna get a'good missus like mine..."

"And what if I already have him?" You asked as you draped a blanket over Simon. "...Lucky bloke, then. Kick his ass if he doesn't see it..."

Will do, Simon. Will do.

And when your husband woke up the next day, his back an outright bitch, head throbbing, and cursing Kyle and Johnny to high heaven, you recounted every single word he said.

He hasn't lived it down since.

[lxvvie]

You knocked the wind out of Simon the first time you said it.

And yeah, he knows he is, but it still felt bloody fuckin' amazin' hearing it from you.

"You're so handsome, Si-bear..."

A beat. Fuck, he was more quick-witted than this. Normally, but he felt it all, though. Felt his breath hitch, his throat tighten, his heart fucking soar. Felt it all, Simon did, and it was more intense than any damn battlefield he'd ever been on.

"'Course I am, luv." Real bloody smooth, Riley, trying to save face like that, but you'd already seen the telltale signs of his face heating up and your grin got wider.

Bloody hell, you'd be the death of him.

You never shied away from Simon. Every scar, burn, and dent told a story, each one more poignant than the last, drawn upon angular features, dark eyes, and a frame too powerful to describe, and you reckon Simon's a masterpiece.

So when you say it time and time again, each scar, burn, and dent newer than the last, Simon embraces it—never in halves—but the impact hasn't lessened, and still you take his breath away.

You call him handsome—always—and he feels like the most beautiful fuckin' thing on the planet.

[lxvvie]

Your relationship with Simon is... shocking to say the least. Well, it is to others. Not to you.

Your dynamic suits you both.

When folks meet the Missus™, no one expects a chainsmoking, tattoo-having, mountain of a man who looks through people more than he does at them and doesn't speak unless he absolutely has to.

He knows how to sew? "Yes, he does," is what you answer, pride in your voice. He learned that and so much more from his girls in the knitting group. In fact, he's on his way there right now.

He made your lunch? "Yeah, he did," is what you say mid-chew, "want some?"

He keeps house? "...Uh... yes?" you answer as if your coworkers asked the dumbest question you've ever heard. And what a damn fine job he does. It's not like you're incapable of it but Simon's homemaking skills are to be commended. Credits his mum.

They don't see what you see, though. They don't see the teddy bear under all that armor, how he makes you laugh, how you make him laugh, and how you hold and love each other as if it were the very first time.

But it's okay, they don't have to understand your relationship.

You and Simon do and that's all that matters.

[lxvvie]

You and Simon took the "What are we?" question and made it another one of your inside jokes.

When you two first made it official and the question came up, you comically answered, "I'm me and you're Si-bear," and that's when Simon knew it would be you two against the world.

Years into your relationship, it was a leisurely afternoon when you jokingly popped the question this time. To your surprise, Simon said, "Married, luv. What do you say?" Holy shit. Bloody fuckin hell.

And even now, married and crazy in love as ever, whenever the question arises, the answer is always, "Don't know about you, sweetheart, but I'm the missus."

[lxvvie]

Y'all know that whole trend that was going around social media with women calling their significant other by their full name? Yeah, that one. Yet another conversation was had, this time it was about the reactions your favorite babygurls would have if you called them by their full government name because of reasons. Maybe.

Capt. John Price - He's, uh, startled but not enough to drop his cigar this time. Does take a puff of it, though, before addressing you like it's the calm before the storm. Isn't too fazed because he heard it enough from his own mom growing up and he figures he's suave and diplomatic enough to placate you.

Gaz - Pointedly ignores you while giving you side glances here and there which is a major indicator that he's gotten into some shit. Probably. More than likely. Yeah... it was Soap's fault.

Alex Keller - Actually did get into some shit. Does not answer the call of duty.

Soap - You hear 'ah, shit', heavy footsteps, probably a crash, and Soap's peeking his head out from the other room. Has a deer-in-headlights look about him. It was Gaz's fault, goddamnit. He's so adorable. It's enough to make you giggle.

Ghost - You get a grunt. And then it hits him. He stops doing whatever it is he's doing. Fuck, he knows that tone. Simon turns to look at you and he stares into your soul or something like that. What in the hell kind of made-up middle name is that? You spend the better part of a good minute staring each other down before you're all, "I love you ♥️," and Ghost groans and rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was he was doing. But not before he grunts out a "Love ya, too." in return.

Alejandro - This is one of the few things that'll actually faze the man. Will damn near break his neck turning to face you to see what's wrong and his eyes will be wide. Oh, the last time he heard his full name called like that was from his beloved grandmother and he'd gotten into some shit then, okay?

Rudy - Ducks his head. Doesn't show his face; he can't bear the sternness of your voice, your gaze. It wasn't him this time, he swears; it remains, though, the way you say his name, an echo in his mind: Ro-DOL-fo. Why'd you have the emphasize THAT part of his name, huh?

König - König.exe stops working. Actually does break something trying to get to you. His eyes are fucking saucers, okay? Oh shit, what did he do this time, Schatz? Are you getting him back after that one time he snuck up on you to surprise you and you dropped dinner? Did you find out about the time he accidentally messed up the laundry and the white clothes came out pink? WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO FIX THIS?! Oh, you... just needed him to grab something off the top shelf for you.

Horangi - Also did some shit. Is unapologetic about it. Hits you with a nonchalant, "Yeah?"

Graves - STAYS IN SOME SHIT, OKAY? Saunters in like the smug bastard he is. Smirks and winks at you. "Haven't heard that name in a while, darlin'. What's your fancy?"

Valeria - Pulls a Uno Reverse and calls you by your full government name. Wait―

[lxvvie]

You and Simon are that couple who have a lot of inside jokes. You'll text him, "Send dick," and it's a picture of someone who gets on his nerves (it varies and Graves and Johnny have been featured a couple times). He'll text you, "Send tits," and it's different pictures of the bird.

It becomes your way of checking up on each other when he's deployed.

[lxvvie]

Nasty bf Simon sparring with you when you wrap your legs around his neck to choke him and make him tap out. Instead, he presses his face closer to your 🐱 and takes a whiff to distracted. He breaks out of your hold with a shit eating grin and laughs at your flustered state.

Ghost's fuck nastiness makes him a habitual line stepper and he always takes it one step further. He runs that fat tongue of his over your clothed cunt, and will keep doing so until you loosen your hold. Fucker is smug about it the rest of the day.

All's fair in love and war, sweetheart.

[lxvvie]

Before Price deploys, you always kiss his cheek, grab the brim of his hat, and tug it down over his eyes playfully. It makes your message clear without you ever saying a word.

Come back to me, Cap'n.

And when he returns home, safe, sound, and probably a little banged up, Price takes his hat off and plops it on your head... but not before pulling you into his arms. And his message is loud and clear.

Wouldn't miss this for the world, sweetheart.