#simon ghost riley angst

[witch-oftheflowers]

Twins??

AN: ALRIGHT THIS IS IT. THE LAST BABIES- WE GOT TWINS ON THE WAY!

TW: Violence and angst ahead

And thank you to everyone that has enjoyed this series! I'm excited to do this final chapter. It's a long one so enjoy!

Masterlist

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Simon remembered the day well. It was leading up after Los Almas and everything after. And finding out Laswell was zoning in on Makarov recently. It sent him a bit worried, his family and his wife, being high targets on Vladimir's list. He knew it. His wife knew it. They had two exciting kids, both enjoying the childhoods they were having so far.

When he came home. Hearing the little steps as he let a soft groan out. His eldest squeezing her arms around his waist. Her face buried into his stomach, and the flood of blonde hair trailing behind her. Those bright brown eyes gleam up to him as she spoke up

" 'Elcome home papa!" Anna sang the words out. Another thud on his legs as he glanced to the side near his daughter. The sea of brown curls tossed around till he noticed his son beaming with joy at him. A toothy grin as he spoke

"Papí. Papí we missed you-" the toddler sang as he smiled. Softly bouncing on his toes as he snug his face into his dad's side. Both kid were tall honestly. For their ages even, as he engulfed them into hugs. His bags to the side as he didn't care. The black paint smear over his eyes still, he was worned out. But that didn't stop the brute of a man as he carried them into the living.

He caught sight of his small wife cooking away. Even a pie on the counter as he took in the messy kitchen.

"Oi! You gone mad chef on me?" He teased his wife. His voice boom a bit as she flinched at the surprise. Turning around, flour on her tan skin. Her eyes shined as she rushed around the kitchen island. Practically throwing herself into the family pile as she squeal in joy

"Aye por dios! You're home!" She smiled as the kids let out roars of laughs. Getting out their father's grasp as they didn't wanna be buried in their hug.

Anna squeeze out as she pulled her brother from the grips. Both kids laughing as they ran to the couch. A small 'Ewww!' as they let their parents have a lovey dovey moment.

"They're so gross-" Anna said as she gag a bit. Johnny laughing a bit as he mimiced his sister.

But the two didn't care. Enjoying each other as Ximena was kept to date about everything. Even helped with the General Shepherd's situation as she knew something was wrong.

Simon clung to her as he let a sigh out. Getting a whiff of her vanilla shampoo. His large hands manhandled her hips as he held her closer.

"You saved us some 'rouble ya know 'hat?" He teased her slightly as he pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. Pulling back Ximena nods her head as she hums. A bit of love dazed in her eyes as she pressed a firm kiss to his lips. Savoring his taste as she hums.

"Mhm.. at least you're home right?" She whispered as she pinched his cheeks a bit. On her tippy toes as he winced.

"Go clean up. I don't need my kids to know bad hygiene Simon." She demanded as she went back to the kitchen.

Anna and Johnny were settled into the couch enjoying their movie. Simon stole by as he gave them both kisses on the head. Even little head rubs as he snuck to their room. Taking a moment to decompress and be able to be just Simon Riley-

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A week would fly by as they settled back in. Getting used to the domestic aspect of their lives. The lads visiting as they had a big family meal to celebrate their return home.

Ximena was in the garden with the tots as they picked fresh vegetables and fruit for the dinner that night. Anna was helping Johnny as they pulled the carrots out the garden. She smiled as the kiddos got excited with their harvest.

Ximena had Luna, her military pup, with her. As the pup was on high alert lately. A small scream filled Ximena ears as she noticed her daughter held her ear. Luna quickly ran off into the forest that was their backyard.

And mama mood kicked in as Ximena checked Anna. A small wound to her ear, a clean shot but still-

"Simon!" She cried out as she yank Johnny under her arm. Rushing them inside, her eyes filled with fear as she heard a grown man yelling and Luna's growls behind her.

Simon was simply cleaning the living. But his eyes widen the second he heard the scream and Ximena's voice

"Fuck-" he scurried into the kitchen a gun was safe kept away. As he loaded it and ran out, rushing his small family in.

Ximena let him. Knowing one had to stay with the kids.

Both were crying and freaking out. Ximena had to stay calm as she grabbed the medical kit from the kitchen. Getting to work as she checked Anna for anything else. Her hands held her daughters as she gauzed her ear. Cleaning the wound as she softly sang to the two trying to ease them

The words shook out, trying to remain the trembling fear she had. Someone found their home... Their kids. A one fear they had since day one.

When she finished up the job. Looking to Anna as she had a small frown on her lips. Big blue eyes stared into her mamas as she sniffled a bit

"Did I loose my ear?"

"Aye no.. Mija no. Just a small cut..." She laughed a bit as she rubbed her daughters head bringing her in for a hug. Holding her close as Johnny snuck in and they hugged

"We're ok... We're ok... Alright?" Ximena said as she gave each a kiss on their head. The backdoor opened as Luna trot into the house. Simon behind as she disarmed his gun and locked it away. He looked grim as he held his phone in his hand.

"Lads are coming over now... I contacted Laswell about a clean up and investigation... You're not allowed to be home alone without someone here Xi..." He whispered to her as they stood in the kitchen. His brown eyes bore into hers as he boxed her into the corner.

The kids were put down for a nap in the middle of the day. Especially Anna who was scared afterwards.

Ximena stared up to Simon. Her eyes shook a bit as she nods a bit. Softly she bit her lip as she was thinking.

"I'ma... Need you to go with me tomorrow..."

"For what?"

"I'm renewing my birth control Simon... We don't need to bring more kids into this..." She said as she met his gaze. And honestly he agreed, seeing as one of their worst enemies was seeking their family. And even behind bars he was planning to harm them. It was a simple decision, no more kids till after this was settled.

And that night when the lads came over. The kids got loads of love. Anna was a bit spoiled as she was a tough girl after everything. Johnny was the little brave brother who was with his sister-

And they had a fun family meal. Eventually a small dance party to cheer the kids up.

Anna was dancing with her mum to some Spanish music. The two having fun as the lads were playing a game of cards. Lil Johnny on his papa's lap as he was playing.

Soap laughed a bit as the tot showed his cards

"Anyone got ones?" The little lad said as Johnny and Gaz smiled to him.

"He's playing Go Fish." Gaz said as he ruffled the sea of brown curls in the kid

Price chuckles a bit as he sipped his drink. A firm smile to his face

"Lads we're playing Poker..."

"Little man ain't. We ain't either" Soap said with a grin as he gave the kid an ace card

The tot grabbed the card as he finished his deck

"I win!" He said so innocently as he smiled.

Simon laugh a bit as he put his cards down.

"I lost a long 'ime ago little man..." He said as the table roared with laughs and cheers for the kiddo. It was a simple night to forget the terrible events from earlier.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And honestly they didn't think they'll be here. Hearing those words as Ximena sat in the doctor's office.

"Ximena you're already two months long-"

"I shouldn't be I've been on the pill. I've been injured a few times a month ago I should of known then -"

"Ximena you have a medical degree like me. And you know this like me that it can always be a fault of medication oopps, or you missed a pill or even just a simple antibiotic mixed with the normal pill you take."

"Wait what do you mean by antibiotics?" Simon said as he sat besides his wife. Who honestly looked pale, her eyes were a bit wide as she was trying to stay calm. And her grip on his large hands didn't help him much

"If you take some medications it can cancel out the birth control..." The gynecologist stated as she looked to the two

".. I was on some a few months back ..." She sighs as she remembered now. And how-

She softly swat Simons arm as he flinched at his wife's reaction.

"You couldn't wait one night Simon Riley-"

"I didn't do bloody shit "

"Well you clearly did because we're two months in a pregnancy Simon" she said as she glared at him a bit. He gulped a tad as he rubbed her back. Trying to calm her down as she sighs a bit more.

"Well you two do have options..."

"We don't... Do those options you know that doc..." Ximena said as she softly smiled to her long time doctor she had since Anna.

Simon nods his head as he sighs a bit.

"Yeah... We'll be ok 'hough." He said as he pulled her in for a small side hug. Giving her a squeeze as the doctor smiled to the two.

"Well here's the game plan then." She said as she gave them the details for their appointments to come.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When they got home. Ximena was a bit guilty as she thought they'll be ok. Simon noticed his wife being off.

"hey... It's nothing different. We'll be ok... Just have to be careful is all..." He spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Her shoulders slumped as she buried her face into his chest. Her eyes pooled with tears.

"But they won't be safe... None of them will-"

"Oié. No none of 'hat right now." He firmly tilted her chin up. Making them keep eye contact, his eyes soften a tad seeing her cry

"We'll be ok... 'he lads offered to help... If we get deployed or anything we'll have safe guards in place ok.. if anything changes we'll fix it as we must... I'll inform Laswell too. See if she can help.." he whispered as they stayed in the entrance way.

He engulfed her into a tight hug. Lifting her up a bit as she let a soft giggle out. Her curls swaying around as she clung to him.

"Ok... ok we'll be ok. Aye you do make me worry less.. thank you..." She whispered as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she clung to him. He held her up as he snuggled into her soft hair.

"Mm 'hats what 'm here for...."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As if the universe itself wasn't giving them a hard time. As the new year rolled in, and they were able to enjoy some peace for another few months.

Ximena was five months long now. And the lads were on deployment. They had tighter security around the cottage, Luna was alert constantly now since that day.

Anna was inside as she didn't like going out much. That day changed the usually bubbly child a bit. Johnny would try to cheer his sister up even. But it wouldn't work often sadly.

Ximena was showing a bit. Her clothes getting tighter around her waist. As she opt for Simons clothes.

Her phone rang that day, constantly. She eventually picked up as she noticed several missed calls

Laswell

Ximena left the living as she stood in the hallway. Phone to her ear as Laswell voice rang through.

"Ximena! Thank God you answered." Her voice was a bit worried filled. She ran a hand through her blonde hair as she sighs.

Ximena was confused as she spoke up. Feeling the anxiety on her end

"Kate what happened?"

"Makarov got out."

Ximena froze in her spot as she was thinking.

You're fucken kidding me...

"Kate how long ago?"

"18 hours. I already contacted the boys. I'm already here in the UK. Please get to base with the kids. We'll go from there-"

Ximena was softly panicking. She usually didn't, she had a strong head on her shoulders. But the fact her family was in danger already again. Her feet moved as she packed bags for the kids.

"Ximena please- I know this isn't good timing with you and all."

"Kate you think?!" She burst out but sighs as she didn't wanna let her emotions bubble over

"I'm sorry... Just... Been stressful... Anna hasn't been the same..."

Laswell listened in as she was waiting for the helicopter to land. Her eyes soften as she sympathized with the woman

"Ximena I know the kids are not handling this. And I know you alone can't do it.. come to base. I know we have a temporary safe place for you three here... I gotta go but just hurry." She said as she ended the call.

Ximena placed her phone down as she grabbed the bags and got the kids dressed. Anna stared to her mum as she saw the stress and worry.

"We'll be ok mama. Right? Plus we might get a glimpse of papa." Anna said as she tried to cheer her mum up.

"Maybe.. maybe after all this. But ya know, nothing isn't impossible with this family hm?" She said as she load them all into the Jeep they had. Luna was in the back as she was keeping her ears up. The pitty was excited as she noticed her mum in the car.

Leaving their little home as it was locked up and dark now. Seem weird as if something was gonna happen....

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How did she get here?

Laswell asked her kindly. As the group stood in the heli shelter. Her hair was rushed up into a ponytail as they heard about General Shepherd's inquisition.

Her eyes shut a bit as she listened to his random rant. Looking away a bit as she stood by Nikolai.

"They always talk much big talk?" He asked her softly as she nods. A small smile to her lips.

"Always..." She whispered as she looked back to the big screen.

"If it isn't Ximena-" General Shepherd's voice boom as he said her name.

She rolled her eyes as Ghost blocked his view.

"She's just here for information. 'Eave her out 'his." He said clear and stern. Glaring behind his mask

"Come on send her back out. He keeps looking into her. Trying to find the woman that rat him out."

"She's not going anywhere. He already got a hold of one kid." Price bumped in as he was firm. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the man.

Gaz and Soap were quiet. But nodding along, this wasn't a thing the lass needed.

"I propose this. Shadows and 141 with Farrah's group. But Ximena would be great for doing Intel we all know that. Those men would be praised for bringing her in." Graves said and butt in.

Fucken Americans

Kate cleared her throat as she ignored the idea.

"And you said General that there was a dam they were thinking about exploding too?"

"There is as well..."

Ghost looked to Soap as he smiled behind his mask.

"Kate I'll send you the details. We'll keep in contact."

Ximena was zoning out as everyone kept talking. Her thoughts drifting off as she looked to the floor.

Nikolai gave her a soft shake. Seeing she wasn't there.

"Come on I'll escort you back." He said as she nods.

Ghost and Soap beamed with their plan..but noticed the lass walking away already.

"Kate why you bring her in?" Ghost asked as he was concerned

"She's... Been off since they came to base. All of them. The little one doesn't get what's happening but he's trying to comfort the two." Her voice was soft as she tapped away on her laptop

"Go talk to her before you and Soap leave. Please." Laswell said as she looked up to the boys.

Ghost was thinking as he sighs and left the area. Quickly on his feet before she climbed into the Jeep.

"Hey." He was huffing as he looked at her in the seat.

"Hi...." She whispered as she leaned over.

"Come back safe.."

"What's wrong...? Kate said."

"You know what's wrong.. just fix it." She said as she looked to him. Her curls swayed in the wind as she sighs.

"Get that man before I go out and do it my self." She said as she pressed a kiss to his masked forehead.

"Go you gotta go protect people. Don't worry about this little woman here, I can handle myself." She said as she smiled a bit.

"Go Ghost I'll be ok..."

"Now I don't wanna go. You pregnant on the field?" He teased her a bit as she giggled.

"I did it before."

"Bloody hell 'm not letting you."

"Ghost go!" She teased him as she shoved him away from her passenger side.

"Fine.. at least I made ya smile." He teased her, pulling up his mask a tad. Popping a kiss to her lips as he quickly vanished as he came.

Nikolai chuckled from the side as he began to drive. A smile to his rugged face as he noticed her smiling

"He's a good man.."

"Always been one..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When they heard about Makarov was on their home turf. It scared Ximena honestly. She helped the units with intel as she was brought back into the tuff of it.

All hands on deck, even her.

The kids stayed with some privates. A Gary Anderson was eager to help the Captain. Even if he didn't know how to entertain kids.

She was quick to assist. Hearing the commotion in the train tunnels. She was worried as the teams split up.

Hearing the fire fights, and the amount of trains that were hacked sadly. Her team on their end blocked new trains going in and out. All the public transportation was shut off for the train systems. Making sure no other civilians were exposed to this.

As she heard the radio chatter. Trying to stop the other trains. It was chaotic in their war room.

Ximena was calm, the best she could. As the sounds of one the bomb ticking away.

Her eyes shut as she heard the boys chatter about it being stopped. Along with the sad sound from Price.

"We have one KIA."

Her heart stopped for a second. Her eyes blinked as she asked for Price

"Price. Repeat that last comm." Her voice shook a bit. The lads on the other end stared to each other as they heard her voice.

"Captain Riley... we have one KIA. Send assistance if able. Our target got away." He was cold as he sighs. Knowing that wasn't gonna help the woman.

"Understood. We've already contacted for public services, the team will give control over after Captain. Let them do as we must." She said as she sighs. Sitting down as she knew none of them would be the same.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her eyes soften when the Task Force came back. Softly she rushed through the crowd of soldiers as she noticed the lads. Her curls were up still, as she noticed them.

Gaz, Price, Ghost

"Where's Soap...?"

The three stared at her as Ghost came besides her. Trying to pull her in for a hug.

"No no... Where's the lad? Where is here?" She said as her head whipped to the others. Softly she panicked as she noticed Price grim face. He felt guilty as he shook his head.

"He's not coming home Xi..."

She stood there as she slump into Ghost. The man engulfed her in his arms as she sighs. Letting the tears pool and drip as she remained calm.

Gaz sighs as he walked over and gave the lass a hug. Honestly they gave her a group hug as they needed it.

"We came home though... We'll make sure he suffers for what he's done..." Price whispered as she nods.

"I'm going..." She stated softly.

The three pulled back as Ghost stared at her.

"You're not .."

"I am. I'm who he wanted originally. Soap just didn't kill him when he had the chance..." She walked away from them as the boys stared.

Price sighs but softly chuckled as he pat Ghost shoulder.

"She's stubborn...."

"For Johnny... She will be..."Ghost said as he went to follow the woman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The lads were planning a trip to spread Johnny's ashes.

Before that they got their first ultrasound done.

"Oh look. Two sacks..." Her doctor said as she twirled the wand over her stomach.

Ximena was looking as she knew what she meant.

"Twins??!" She said the words as she squeezed Simons hand tight. The man flinched a tad as he looked at the small screen.

"Bloody hell... Two?" He looked to his wife as she shrugs.

"we'll they're twins, not identical but fraternal. They have the two different sacks, so two different sperms then. You two have strong babies it seems." She joked a bit as Simon stared at the screen

"I didn't know we could have 'wins..." He whispered as he softly smiled. Looking to his wife as Ximena she softly hums.

"It's like a gift ain't it?" She whispered as she looked to Simon.

"I'll let you two have a moment and we'll continue alright?" Doc said as she left the two alone for a second.

"A gift? What you mean by 'hat?" He asked her as he rubbed his hand over hers. Softly soothing her as she looked over to him

"Like Johnny wanted us to have twins..." She whispered as she leaned into him. Her eyes shut as she was thinking about their life.

He sighs as he nods his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Mm maybe. Does sound like a joke he'll make. Give us 'wins, 'wice the work." He joked a bit as he closed his eyes. Trying to ease his feelings and concerns.

"You'll be ok while we're gone?" He whispered as he rubbed her hand again.

"Mhm I'ma have to be..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As the last month dwindled. Ximena was home constantly, her stomach peak underneath Simon's shirt.

She radiated a happy glow around her. And just a day to their caesarean date. She felt a soft nervousness as she was scared Simon at anytime would be called for deployment.

Her eyes soften as she saw her husband coming in alone. Dropping off their tots with her parents for the weekend. He looked really irritable-

She softly shook her head as she smiled. Thinking her hormones were all over the place. Her eyes crinkled as he came over, wrapping his strong arms around her stomach.

"I love you..." He whispered a bit as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Her curls swayed around her as she hums.

"I love you too....Are we all ready for tomorrow?" She whispered as she leaned into him a bit. Her hair swaying as she pressed her swollen stomach into his. A soft chuckle left his lips as he rest a large palm over her stomach.

"Mhm... All set; extra clothes, babies wear, I got your comfy nightgown too." He spoke as he pinched her cheeks lightly.

"Ya old lady." He teased her as she swat his arm a bit

"Im not old, it's just nice during the baby year and labor, hush it." She jabbed his chest slightly as she smiled to him.

"I'm just excited to get this over with...." She humed the words as she rested into him. His hands resting on her back, pulling her in for a tight hug

" 'Een 'hrough to much 'his year..." He whispered into her hair. Softly playing with it to ease her anxiety. His eyes flutter shut as he got a whiff of her scent. Vanilla with a hint of dirt.

Her eyes flutter shut as she hums. Letting him cradle her against him

The two has a small meal. Especially since she couldn't eat after midnight. As they crawled into bed, her eyes shut softly. Snuggling into Simon, onto her side as the baby bump snug into his side.

Her leg was thrown over his waist. Her arms clinging around his free arm. She felt her chest ache as she knew her body was ready for the pregnancy to be over

Simon let her be, his eyes shut as he dozed off. Letting his wife ease next to him. He just hoped they'll be ok.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As they checked into the hospital. Getting into their private room.

Ximena was in her hospital gown. Sitting on the bed as she whines softly. Her head resting on his shoulder as he sat besides her. His large hand resting on her knee, rubbing soft circles on her skin.

"Mmm it's ok dove... 'M right 'ere..." He whispered.

The nurses came in and assisted the two. Getting the lass down as the very English nurses helped her. Got her in a hair net along with Simon.

Made the nurses laugh a bit seeing the large man in scrubs and a hair net.

" 'His not my style...." He stated as he gave Ximena one more kiss before they rolled her off.

Letting him follow and watch as they started the C-section on his sleepy wife. Who decided to take a nap during the procedure.

But once the first cries filled the room. Ximena's eyes flutter awake as she smiled to Simon.

"Hi.. our lasses are 'ere..." He whispered to her softly. The nurses showed them both one of the girls

Her dark tan skin like their mother's. Curly curly brown hair on her head. And her wails of being born as the nurse took her to check her health

As they pulled the next one. She was so quiet, her hands squished into fist as she was resting in the nurse arms.

As the twins were pulled away and given their shots. Along with tears ran on them. They wheeled the four of them to the room. Letting them have a moment together.

Ximena held both twins in her arms. Softly humming. She was thinking, ignoring the searing pain in her stomach. And the way she just wanted to nap after a intense procedure.

Simons stepped out as he called his wife's mum. Letting them know the twins were healthy and born. And a visitation was on the table for the family in a couple of days.

Ximena was lost in thought. Loving the twins as she observed the little details. Their cute noses, the adorable yawns they gave out, the way they snuggled in her arms-

She didn't hear the hospital door opening. Or the sobs from the nurses outside. Kinda surprising Simon didn't hear it either-

Steps echo in the quiet room as the man came over. A smirk on his face as he stood besides the hospital bed

"look at you..."

Ximena's eyes widen as she slowly glanced up. Seeing the one man she's been working so hard to hide from. Her brown orbs shook as she clung the girls closer to her.

"You need to get out ..."

"No I don't. Your husband isn't here to protect you..." Vladimir said as he sat on her bed. Giving her covered leg a pat. Showing off his power in the moment

"I just wanted to visit my favorite person.... Congratulations to the twins..." He mocked as he saw her clinging to the babes

His eyes eyed her over. Trying to stay calm and his demeanor shifted. His hand touched over hers as he whispered

"You're lucky I won't do a thing now. But just know.. I can always get my hands on you or your family..." Vlad spoke as he smiled to her warmly. Getting back to his feet as he fixed the suit he don often.

"Till next time..." He said as he left her hospital bed.

Moments later. Simon burst in as he huffed, the nurses were killed. Along with multiple people in the hospital.

Just to send a message.

The two knew. Their lives were never gonna be the same.

Especially since after Ximena was released from the hospital a week later.

And they swiftly took her in for interrogation. Why?

Ximena was a spy. That's what they were told...

[sgtgarricks]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ your gentle hands are enough

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst kinda?, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, praise kink, creampie!!, reader referred as 'pet' like twice, smut with sadness, hurt/kinda comfort, mention of johnny's death, simon is scared of commitment :(, we still love him.

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

NEXT PART (HEA): i want your hands on me for all my life

notes: my first ever fic that i'm posting on this site !! feedback is appreciated ♡ dedicated to @rowarn for being lovely and entertaining my rambles!

You and Simon weren't exactly dating.

He visits you almost every night whenever he's in the city and he's always gone before you're out of bed. But you relish on the rare occasions that you're awake before him — the moments you get to brush your hand through the raised scars littered all across his face, the moments you get to tangle your fingers in his hair to hear his little grunts.

Simon Riley has rough hands, scarred and calloused from years in the battlefield. Yet when those hands are caressing your body softly, you know he's being unnecessarily gentle to not let you feel the roughness in his hands — as if he was trying to prevent all the hurt and pain he's inflicted with his fists from bleeding into you.

You pretend to have only just woken up, eyes blinking slowly trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

"Morning, Si."

"G'morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He places a warm palm on your hip, not fulling resting the weight of it.

"I always do when you're here." You raised your hand to his chest and feel his heart thumping steadily below you. His body always runs hot no matter the weather and it makes you nuzzle into him more during the bleak winter.

Silence engulfs the two of you, lulling you into a vulnerable state of bliss as you recall the events of last night.

You had barely opened the door for him last night before his hands were all over you, lips crashing onto yours as he kissed you with desperation. Strong hands working swiftly to remove your clothes gently as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

Simon was always gentle with you, but you've been with him long enough to know the difference between him missing you and him scared at the thought of missing you.

Instead of gently laying you down on the plush mattress, he pushed you with a little bit of force than usual.

"Simon!" You yelp. You must've been too distracted by him to fully notice that he was now fully naked below you.

He had a glint in his eye that let you know you were not going to be able to rest until he coaxed multiple orgasms from you.

His hand was constantly on your body, not wanting to go for a second without feeling your skin under his. Greedy kisses were peppered all across your collarbone that were now marked with the imprint of his teeth.

You knew Simon was trying to memorize every inch of your body, leave his marks on you because he was going to go back on deployment soon.

This realization is what snaps you out of your peaceful reverie. That your Simon is going to leave you soon.

The mere thought of having to see him leave your apartment in a few hours and not getting to see him for another week? Months?

It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that made you frown and turn your head away.

Simon, ever so vigilant, notices your downturned lips. He cups your chin and swivels it to face him. He nudges his nose with yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hate that he was playing dumb. Hates that he thinks you don't know his antics by now. Hates that he thinks you don't know him by now.

"You know why, Si." Pushing your hands on the plush bed, you rest your back on the headboard. You stare at Simon disapprovingly, upset that he's trying to pretend everything is fine.

He sighs heavily and run his hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"How do you know?" He finally lets out, still laying down on his side staring up at you.

You scoff at him. Maybe because you've seen him through his highs-and-lows. You've seen his little smirk at your antics. Listened to his stories intently as he fondly recalls memories with his squad mates.

But you've also seen him coming to you bloody, battered, bruised, and shaking as you stitched his back. You've seen him scare himself awake at night, dreaming about the last time he saw Johnny.

He chuckles when you stare at him pointedly and finally sits up. He waits for you to stop sulking for a few minutes, before sighing once more.

The bed creaks with his weight as he tries to stand up from it, turning towards the window. You know what's coming next and you are fully aware there's nothing you can do to stop him from going on deployment.

What you can do, is at least try to make him stay a little bit longer.

You crawl forward from your position, throwing both your arms around his wide torso — at least try to, he's way too wide for you to fully engulf him in your arms.

"Don't go."

Your lips are pressed against his back as you softly plead with him to not go. Simon takes both your arms in his hands and angles his upper body towards you. Slowly, you move up from your sprawled-out position and kneel in front of him.

"Please." You slowly pull away your arms from his grip. He reluctantly lets you go before you slowly wrap them behind his neck. You inch closer to him, slowly leaning down and kissing his neck.

Simon moans languidly, still groggy.

"You play dirty, love." He cups your behind, angling his neck upwards to give you more access.

"You love it."

"Being cheeky, are you?" You grin against his neck, biting down softly. Arching your neck subtly as Simon tugged on your hair.

These were truly the moments you truly enjoy the most. Not that you don't enjoy sleeping with him, you definitely do. But being able to love him freely in the daylight made it much more intimate.

You suspect it's why Simon always tried his best to leave before the sun came up.

You know Simon loves you, albeit in his own unique way. He's never been nothing but kind and gentle to you, always making sure you feel safe and taken care of with him. From locking your door with the spare key he has after he leaves, to making sure to take care of you after having sex — always gets up to clean any messes he had left on your body with gentle wipes and ending it with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Despite your numerous attempts to get him to open up about his past, he doesn't bite often. Though, you know some part of him wants nothing more than to tell you every single thing about himself when he speaks little snippets of his past.

He doesn't tell you anything overly upsetting, always keeping it minimal and with as little details of violence as possible.

Perhaps, his idea of a small mercy.

Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor, giving you little bits of himself hoping you eventually realize how damaged he is. He doesn't understand how those flickers of vulnerability makes you hungrier for more of him. You wanted him, thorns and all.

Simon lets himself get roped back into your arms, all his muscles relaxed, no trace any tautness or rigidness lingering. He feels safe in your arms.

"How long Simon?" You finally ask, preparing for the worst.

Simon was mostly gone for around a month.

But on the rare times you couldn't see him for more than half a year, it was like hell. It hurt so deeply knowing even if he had been killed off somewhere, you might not even know. The only traces left of him would only be the few shirts he's let you take and the Simon-shaped hole he would have left in your heart.

It scared you that you could never be able to smell his earthy musk lingering in your sheets again, that it would fade one day and you wouldn't remember what it smelled like anymore.

"I dunno. More or less three months?"

You hated when he was vague. He was often trying to spare your feelings.

"So... more."

He nods with his face still hiding in your neck. You can feel him press his nose harder and inhale deeply.

Deep down, you feel crushed. You always do when he has to leave. You want to tell him how much you love him again, how much you need him, and you wanted him to say it back so badly.

You thought you had gotten so far with him, slowly breaking down his walls after getting him to start staying over instead of leaving. Something changed after he lost Johnny — he was more touchy, more clingy, but he never let you get any closer anymore. You could physically feel him wince if you told him you loved him during one of your vulnerable moments.

The first time you told him you loved him, he looked at you with a somber look. He didn't say anything, but he pulled you close and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

I'm sorry.

He gave different reactions every time. Some days he'd simply sigh and drag his fingers through your hair lovingly. On worse days, he'd shake his head and do nothing else.

It was like an impenetrable wall had suddenly appeared when it wasn't there before.

You take a deep breath. Simon has been nothing but gentle with fragile you. He's been trying his best to not taint the heart that you've freely ripped out of your chest for him.

Maybe this time, you can do something for him and let him go back without the weight of your love on his shoulder.

"Better make the most of it then, eh?" You pull back from him and hear a grunt of protest. You start pushing him until his back hit the headboard gently. Kissing your way down to his groin, you tug at his boxers impatiently.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-"

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death o' me, love." He lifts his hips and lets you drag his boxers down, revealing his semi-hardness.

God, his cock is so beautiful. It's so thick you could barely wrap both your hands around it even when he's not fully hard.

"I'll make sure to send you off gently with a kiss, Simon." Your mouth slowly engulfs the tip of his cock, licking all around it. Simon lets out a groan as he grabs your head gently.

"Oh, fuck. That's it, sweetheart. So sweet, being so good f' me." He encourages sweetly and it's enough to get you preening and moving your head excitedly down his length.

Just as you know his habits, Simon also knows what makes you tick. Getting praised by him almost always makes you putty in his hands and he makes sure to take advantage of this information to its full potential. He loves to praise you even for the smallest of things, such as cooking for him when he gets back.

Telling you how lovely you are and how he's thankful for you taking the time to cook for grumpy, old, Simon.

You continue taking more of his length in your mouth, gaggling slightly from the sheer size of him. You can taste the salty precum on your tongue and your eyes roll back from pleasure, taking him in more enthusiastically.

"Slow down, love. Don't want- ugh.. you t' hurt yourself." Simon tries to pull your head back to give you space, but you're not happy about it. You glare up at him best as you can before taking him down to the hilt.

Nose pressed deep, you can smell the slight tang of his musk, making you slightly delirious. You moan, sending vibrations up throughout his body.

Simon trembles with pleasure, groaning.

"Yeah, you like that sweetheart? Love choking on my cock? Hmm?"

At his words, you slowly take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hands. Slick from your spit and his precum, your hand glides along his shaft easily as he bucks into your hand.

"Mhm.." You put your mouth on him once more, only pulling away to rub it all over your face. "Love it so much, Si. Love having your cock in my mouth. Can't live without it."

Simon admires you, cockdrunk on his leaking shaft. Even with his mess all over your face as you slobber on him, he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous.

Looking up at him, it's like you can see hearts in his eyes. You've been wet since the moment you woke up to him next to you, but him looking at you like you're the only person he wants to see on him makes you feel on top of the world.

Unable to take it anymore, you whine pathetically and start humping the bed.

Simon sees you writhing on the bed below him and chuckles as you continue kissing all over his cock.

"Look at you.. so needy, sweetheart. You don't need to hump the bed like a dog in heat. I'm right here, love." With that, he gently pulls you off his cock. You groan dismay, body going slightly limp from desperation.

"Need you so bad, Si." You beg him, tears starting to form in your eyes. You think you're going to crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. He's about to leave soon for months and you're desperate for him to leave his mark on you.

Simon gently tuts and caresses your cheek. He's in awe of how he's got such a lovely, needy, pet wrapped around his finger. He hasn't had someone this devoted to him in a very long time — someone who's always excited to see him come home, someone who's never asked for him for more than what he can give.

Maybe it makes him a narcissist that he's happy of the fact that you're so desperately in love with him, you'd rather have parts of him than not at all.

But during early mornings where he'd find you sniffling into your pillow, he feels pain in his chest where his heart resides. He knows you cry over him.

He mourns the love that you two could have, but he'd rather mourn over the fantasy he's created in his head — the fantasy where he wasn't fucked up and is able to receive the kind of love you freely give, than have you be heartbroken when Simon inevitably doesn't come home one day.

"I got you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He rumbles against your lips. In a split second, he'd managed to lay you out on the bed and now hovered above you.

He takes a moment to stare at your face. Wide-eyed, sweating, and panting heavily. He peppers kisses all over your face.

His little pet all worked up over sucking his cock.

He's staring at you for a few seconds, making you writhe around, but you never break his stare. It was as if the both of you were trying to commit each other's faces to memory right in this moment, not knowing when you were going to be able to see each other again.

You bring your hand up to his face, slightly wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

His eyes.

The moment he looked at you, you know you were done for. Those eyes never fail to send shivers through your whole body, as if your entire being was standing to attention when his eyes were on you.

"You're so pretty, Simon."

That seemed to break him out of his trance. He grunts slightly as if disagreeing with your statement. You sigh, knowing he's never going to see himself the way you see him.

That's okay. You'll spend as much time as he'll give you to convince him.

Simon kisses and caresses down your body as you moan from the feel of it. Teasing you with his lips and leaving small marks all over. When he gets to your thighs, he slowly raises both of them as he lightly rubs his scruffy chin on it.

"Lift those pretty legs f' me, hm?"

When you don't respond, he gently bites to get your attention and you huff. You grasp your bedsheets so tight your knuckles were going white when you feel his hot breath on you.

"Such a pretty pussy. Just for me, yeah?" He kisses your folds gently, the sensation of his scruff causing a prickly sensation, making you wail in pleasure.

"S-Simon!" You were so needy and sensitive — Simon loved that about you.

"So sensitive." He murmurs against your weeping pussy. He runs his finger across your folds, gathering the wetness. You look down at him as he tastes your wetness on his finger.

"Fuck, Simon."

"Mm, my favorite taste."

After a few moments of simply kissing all around your folds and your clit, Simon decides to stop teasing you. He presses his face in your folds and licks a stripe across it.

He repeats this action multiple times, sucking on your little bud in between. He rolls his finger around your clit as his mouth makes suckling noises. The sensation of his tongue and finger on you make you gasp loudly — your eyes rolling back.

You arch your back and don't stop chanting Simon's name like a prayer. Like he was going to disappear if you stopped calling his name.

"That's it. Let me hear what you want, pretty." He brings two of his fingers back inside your walls, lightly caressing them. He's teasing you, waiting for you to beg him to put his fingers inside of you. You break instantly, begging for him to use his thick fingers to please you.

"Please, Simon. Please, please, please. Need your fingers in me."

How could Simon deny you when you beg so sweetly?

Humming against you, he slowly sinks his fingers inside your aching walls. You sigh in contentment, unconsciously clenching on his fingers.

"Relax love, you're choking my fingers." You relax a bit at his words, trying to get your breathing back to normal. The death grip you

It seems that Simon had other ideas, because as soon as you loosened, his fingers started picking up. You start wailing again at his sudden shift in pace, grabbing his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His hand lets go of your thigh and entwines it with yours.

"Doing so good for me. You can take it, sweetheart. Be good and cum on my fingers, yeah?" At this point the both of you were panting heavily, his heavy cock still leaking precum onto the bedsheets. You didn't realize it before, but you're just now realizing how the bed is creaking from his hips.

Simon pants heavily, the room getting warmer by the second. His heavy groans makes your pussy throb around his fingers as you feel a pressure building in your lower belly.

"Si- please. So close."

Knowing you're close sends him over the edge, his tongue works faster and sloppier in tandem with his fingers. Simon moans and and your back starts to arch higher than before.

You're now making a mess on the bedsheets, wet noises can be heard loudly as it echoes throughout the entire room. You feel hot, sweaty, and suddenly everything's too much.

The lights are too bright, the noises too loud, and you feel so sensitive it burns.

"Simon, I-" You whine, legs starting to thrash as Simon pulled his fingers away to hold your legs. You feel your nerves lighting awake as you feel every single sensation as he sinks his tongue inside.

"Love you Si, love you so much. I'm—" Your body seizes and freezes for a moment and a little flick of his tongue against your bud makes you lose it. Your orgasm washes through you like a crashing wave, causing you to tremble in his hold and let out gasps as you struggle to breath normally and let your legs fall.

Simon lets you catch your breath as he lifts himself up, still hard. You rest your eyes on him and you see him lick his lips — his entire mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

He hovers above you once more, leaning down to give you a kiss. You reach up enthusiastically, pulling him down by his neck. He grunts at the sudden force as you slant your lips against his. It's messy, his lips slick with spit and yours with a small trace of drool. The kiss is desperate, teeth knocking into each other more than once.

It goes on for a while before Simon starts to pull back. Before he's successful, you wrap both your legs around his waist and Simon gasps at the sensation of his cock pressed against your slick.

"Need you inside, Simon. Want you in me." Murmuring against his lips, your hand desperately wanders down his sweaty body and grips his cock.

He lets out a grunt at the sudden warmth enveloping him and is unable to control as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"Yeah? You want my cock? Take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." He watches in a daze as you slowly align him with you. The moment he feels his tip rub on your slippery folds, he lets out a whimper.

"Please Si.." You whisper to him. "Wanna feel you inside me so bad." Simon coos at you, seeing you beg him to fuck you never fails to make his brain circuit for a few seconds.

He teases you a few seconds longer, just to hear you beg more for him. He begins to feel bad when you start humping the air in hopes of getting his head inside you.

You're babbling incoherently now, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Simon's body. He gives you mercy and starts to push inside your throbbing hole. It takes a bit of time, but when his head manages to push through, he's already able to feel your walls pulsate around him.

"Oh, sweetheart. So needy f' me." He's also barely coherent, his eyes focused on his cock deeper inside your tight hole. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone, hm? Who's gonna fuck you this good?" Simon barely realizes what he's saying until he's spoken them. The thought of someone else fucking you when he's gone lights a fire inside him.

"Oh, fuck." His cock is fully in you now and you can feel every vein pulsating inside of you. Your hands are gripping Simon harder, possibly leaving red marks all over his body — you relish in the thought of Simon looking in the mirror and seeing the marks you left on him. "No one, Si. No one's gonna fuck me as good as you. Don' want you to go. Want you here with me." Your mouth hangs open uselessly, overwhelmed with the pressure of Simon in you.

Hearing you admit so openly you weren't going to fuck anyone else drives Simon even crazier. You realize now how much of an impact your words have on Simon when he starts pounding your poor pussy that was still sensitive.

"Yeah? That's right, sweetheart. No one can fuck you like I can." It takes him a few seconds to get his words out, huffing above you. You can barely hear what he's saying, ears ringing from the blinding white, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your hands try gripping him as long as you can but his thrusts are causing your body to jostle relentlessly, and now your arms flail helplessly before holding onto the headboard.

Simon is no longer on his forearm, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands grip your waist. You're sure his hands are going to leave prints in the morning from how hard he's gripping you.

You don't mind at all.

Your brain feels foggy, only speaking Simon's name over and over again. Simon's no better than you, grunting and groaning at every thrust that leads him deeper into your hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moans. "So good for me, so sweet for me." Your legs no longer have the energy to stay corded behind his back, limping helplessly beside you as Simon fucks you.

You feel another orgasm creeping up on you as your walls begin to clench around Simon's cock. Simon hisses at the feeling, leaning up to look at your cream gathering at the base of him. He looks up to the ceiling, gasping in pleasure.

"Si, I'm so close, I-" He brings his head down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling away, nose touching yours and staring into your eyes.

"Let go f' me, sweetheart. Gonna cum on my cock and be good?" He coaxes you, one of his hands going to your face. You don't even realize you're crying until Simon wipes your tears away.

You can't take it anymore, the loving look in his eyes and feeling him inside you breaks you.

"Love you so much, Si. I love you so fucking much." You cry out to him as you're finally sent over the edge. You wail loudly, back arching as Simon continues to thrust at a slower pace, going deeper than before.

"God, fuck. I love you, I love you. Fuck." He continues to mumble against your neck. Your jaw goes slack and another orgasm seizes your body as you clench and gush all over him.

His thighs are drenched from your slick and when he feels your walls pulsing repeatedly over him, he feels shivers all over his body and he cums.

The blinding pleasure takes him off guard, thighs shaking from the sheer force. He continues thrusting shallowly, dragging out his orgasm as his cum fills up your hole to the brim.

He gasps and bites down on your neck, not stopping until he's fully come down from his high.

You're shell shocked, one hand over your eyes as you thinking about what just transpired. This was nothing like before. He'd never said 'I love you', ever. You take a moment to regain your thoughts, heart thumping wildly.

By this point, your hopes had soared like never before, the small part of you that still believes you can have something with Simon begins crawling out of you — coming back alive.

"Si-" You start as you catch your breath and lift your head slightly to look at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles lifting himself from your body, plopping himself on the pillow beside you.

There's nothing but silence for a few minutes. A part of you wants nothing more than to confront him, get him to face his feelings. But you know Simon and that if you did that, he'd panic.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait.

Until he coughs.

"I have to go. Supposed to meet the boys in an hour." He grumbles, fumbling around to get himself off the bed and find his clothes.

Your heart breaks. Was he really going to go away for a few months without talking about what just happened? You had to make a choice. Either speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Simon." You speak with such a finality in your tone that it renders Simon frozen. He pauses putting his pants back on and stares up at you, terrified.

"I love you." You say, loud and clear. You've told him you loved him in the throes of passion and in the sleepy haze of early mornings, but never when both of you were wide awake. Like a secret that's only meant to be whispered so as to not let it get snuffed out.

You see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He seems to debate what he wants to say. You badly wish for him to just say something, anything at all.

He doesn't.

Simon continues to put on his pants and slip his shirt over his head. Once he finally gains the courage to look at you once more, he had to clear his throat. The forlorn look on your face would haunt him until the day he dies.

He knows you love him so deeply and honestly, that there was no questioning your devotion to him. He knows that you feel for him so deeply, you'd rather hurt yourself over and over than let him go.

But he's also once harbored care and affection to someone, fighting side-by-side with someone he thought was going to never stop speaking gibberish in his ear.

If Simon almost couldn't survive losing Johnny, there was no way you were going to survive losing him.

With his heart in his throat, Simon stares at you, fighting back tears that threaten to escape. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you and tell you he loves you more than anything in this world. That he'd fight through any battlefield with broken limbs just to come home to you. But he knows he can't give you that promise. That promise that he's going to die of old age with you.

He expects you to cry or scream, but nothing in the world would be able to heal the way Simon's heart breaks when you only give him a sad smile.

"That's okay. I know you're not selfish enough to love me back."

He knows he should just leave, but he can't help himself from hurting you once more. Simon steps forward, cradles your head in his hands and lay a kiss atop your head.

And then, he leaves.

[tryingtoremembermyname]

it’s me. i’m bitches.

[fluetytooty]

ghoastsoap cute little love story

[peppermint-toads]

you watched a stray water droplet run down simon’s bicep, and you craned your head to the side, licking it up off of his skin.

he pressed his whole palm onto your wet cheek, smushing his thumb over it with a heavy pressure.

you were so tired from crying. your lips and eyes and face were all puffy. your entire face felt raw and red.

simon had sweetly coaxed you into the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as it could go so the steam could start to clear your stuffy head. he’d pulled you down into the bath after him, settling you between his legs and letting you rest against his chest.

he shushed you and stroked your hair until your chest stopped hitching and breathing calmed down.

“bad day?”

“yeah,” you sniffed, your chest starting to heaven again.

“shhh, shhhh, we don’t have to talk about it. not now.”

you just nodded into him. breathing in and out. that’s all you needed to think about.

the world had gotten to you that day. simon had come home safe from another deployment that week, and you just felt overwhelmed by all the possibilities that didn’t even happen.

you were his tough girl. he took pride in the fact that you could handle it, handle him. but sometimes you just needed to be soft.

you always felt so guilty, crying in front of simon. he went through enough, and it was selfish of you to react to his safety of all things like this.

you turned to face him as much as you could in the confines of the tub, placing both of your hands on either side of his face.

“you’re really here?”

he smiled softly. you stared at the thin sheen of perspiration that glistened on his face from the thick air in the bathroom.

he hummed and you could feel it rumble in his chest.

“you’re stuck with me.”

he was just trying to lighten your mood, but those words meant everything to you. you took a shuddery deep breath and nodded quickly, assuring yourself that it was true.

[barefoothighlander]

Protective Ghost perhaps ?

Love me a protective hulk of a man and clapping my cheeks like a mad man 🫣

scary boyfriend privileges for real

warnings: mdni (18+), unwanted male attention, insinuation of assault, smut, unprotected pinv, est relationship, masturbation (fem), fingering, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, lil bit of choking, possessive!ghost, rank kink if u squint

"Hey, where are you?"

"Just at the house, Is everything alright love?" He can sense the panic in your voice through the phone,

"Everything's fine just, do you think you'd be able to pick me up?"

"Be there in 10"

He ends the call, leaving you to listen to the echoes of strangers in the streets, standing alone outside your office building, you didn't intend on working late but something had come up and you told Simon that you'd just walk home after work, it was only a few blocks to your shared flat.

At first, he blatantly refused the idea, arguing that he'd just pick you up even if it meant waiting around for a few hours when he already had plans, you argued back stating that it wouldn't be dark considering the sun wouldn't set till later, and the walk was short. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing to your terms of having your location on during your walk and keeping a finger on the pepper spray he had placed in your purse.

Everything was going fine until you actually stepped out of the office, ignorant to the fact that there was a football match that night, and the pubs would be littered with drunk patrons, shouting from every street corner. The echoes of their voices made you nervous, the fact that you didn't have your scary boyfriend to protect you made it worse, a small panic setting into your nerves as you picked at your nails.

You move to the curb to watch for his truck, eyes glazing over every pair of headlights that made their way down the street, tapping your foot in an effort to ease yourself.

"OI"

You turn your attention to the shout,

"Yea you, whatcha doin all alone out here love?" A man standing a few feet away begins walking towards you, even from the distance you can smell the alcohol on him, turning away to ignore him.

"Ah c'mon then, just tryna have a chat"

"M'not interested, sorry"

"Inna chat? Don't worry I won't bite"

You take a few steps back as the man gets closer, invading your space as he continues to speak,

"Don't have to be a priss, just wondering why a pretty lil thing like you s'all alone"

"I'm waiting for someone" You nervously dart your eyes around, willing Simon to appear,

He stumbles closer "You gotta boyfriend?"

"Yep" You cross your arms over your chest, walking backwards as the man continues to get closer

"Bet I'd treat ya better, wouldn't let you walk around all alone" He drags out the last word, staring directly at you,

"You know, I'm just gonna walk, have a good night" You turn to walk down the street, moving at a rushed pace,

"I'll walk you home" He moves in tandem with you

"No that's alright, I'll manage"

Your body freezes as his hand makes contact with your arm, tugging you back a step as he grips the skin, "Why've you got to be such a bitch?"

You try to pull your arm from his hold, "Excuse me?"

"Just tryna be nice"

"You're hurting me" Your body is in full panic, your mind racing as the man's stare pins you down, his grip firing you backwards until your back collides with the wall.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if you played along"

His words make your chest feel hollow, your eyes moving to avoid his gaze before they land on a pair of headlights in front of you, the slam of a car door breaking your focus as you let out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend moving towards you.

In a flash the man is off you, Simon's grip around his collar as he pins him to the wall, the back of his head hitting against the stone as you gasp.

"Si-"

"Get the fuck out of here"

The stranger's eyes widen at the sight of the masked man, Simon's large form dwarfing his as his arm holds his shirt tight around his neck, Simon releases him, the man gasping for air, sparing you a final look before rushing down the street.

"I'm sorry I-"

He cuts you off, "Get in the car"

You spend the short ride home in silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on, the tension in the air palpable as you let yourself out of the truck, following behind Simon as he makes his way into the house.

You flinch as he slams the door behind him,

"M'not mad at you" His voice comes from behind you

"I know"

You watch as he storms toward the bedroom in a fury, his fists clenched as he breezes by you. following him through the room. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits in a chair, alone in the corner facing the bed, his legs spread as his hands settle on the arms of the seat.

"Take your clothes off"

You do as he says, nervous fingers working to remove your shirt before reaching for the belt on your pants, tugging them down your legs,

"All your clothes"

You stand naked before him, his eyes roaming over your form, his stare making goosebumps rise on your skin,

"Get on the bed"

You sit on the edge of the mattress, shuffling your body backwards as you rest against your arms,

"I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me"

Your throat dries at his words, your eyes looking for some sign of sympathy but there's nothing behind the mask, doing as you're told you snake a hand down your torso, settling your fingers against your clit, cursing yourself at how wet you already were.

You work your fingers around the bud, keeping your gaze locked on him as pleasure blossoms in your chest, your heels digging into the sheets as you find a rhythm.

He doesn't say anything but you can see the strain on his knuckles as he grips the armrests of the chair, his pants growing tighter with every moan that falls from your lips. You're teetering on the edge but it's not enough,

"Simon, please,"

"Your fingers not enough?"

You shake your head, "Need you"

"Need me to what?"

"Need you to fuck me, please"

He wastes no time in standing from the chair, practically tearing his pants down before his hands grip your waist, flipping you with ease so that your chest presses against the mattress, your cheek digging into the sheets as he presses his length against you.

He groans at the feeling of your weeping pussy against his length, his palms spreading you so he can get a better view,

“So fucking perfect, you gonna be good for me?”

You wriggle your hips for him, “Yes, all for you”

“Good girl” He drags his palm along the length of your spine, settling his fingers around the nape of your neck as he lines himself up, teasing his head through your folds, collecting your slick before inserting himself.

He bottoms out with a grunt, his pubic bone pressing against your ass as he leans over your form, caging you and forcing you to take every inch of him. You whimper below him, begging him to move as he holds himself still inside you.

He pulls himself nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing a yelp from you as he begins pumping into your pussy, your slick gathering around his shaft as his cock splits you open.

“So fuckin tight love”

His fingers dig into your waist with a bruising grip, holding you still as he thrusts into you, you can feel the coil inside you still burning but it’s still not enough,

“Si, please, need more”

His hand reaches around your neck, pulling you from the bed so your back is flush with his chest, his fingers teasing on your pulse point. He snakes his other hand around to toy with your clit, you clench down on him as he makes contact, his rough fingers circling the bud.

“Can’t cum unless it’s me huh?”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut,

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Si, fuck”

“Not good enough” His hand constricts around your throat

You struggle to find your words, his cock driving into you from below, “It’s yours Lieutenant, only yours”

“Much better” His hand releases your throat allowing you to gasp for air in between your moans, your orgasm threatening to erupt from inside you.

His hands knead at your breasts, teasing and pinching the raised buds as his fingers work in tandem with his strokes, you reach behind you to touch him, to grab anything to ground yourself , your fingers settling on the hem of his mask.

“That’s it love, soak my cock, show me how good I make you feel”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire as all your muscles tense, Ghosts moans fill your ears as your pussy clenches down on him, his hips stuttering for a moment as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you come down he pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of contact as his hands find their way back to your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

You wrap your limbs around him, holding him to you as he pushes deep inside you, his face is inches from yours, his eyes glued to where you meet.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy, maybe i’ll fuck a baby into you, s’that what you want? Want everyone to see your stomach grow with my fuckin seed? Let them know who you belong to?”

His gaze turns to you, his dark eyes staring back at you, you struggle to form a response, your hand moving to tug at the hem of his mask as your hooded eyes watch him. Like he’s reading your mind he tears the mask off in seconds, revealing his face to you, his rosy cheeks and plump lips, the way his jaw clenches with every thrust.

“I’m yours, only yours”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your moans as he kisses you, rough and messy as your arms snake around his neck, holding him to you.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight beautiful”

“Cum in me Si, need to feel you”

He watches your eyes fill with lust, your soaking pussy swallowing him as he bottoms out, your heels dig into his back as he spills his seed into you, coating your walls.

“Fuckin hell” He holds himself inside you as he finishes, his softening cock holding his cum deep in your pussy as he leans in for another kiss, it’s more tender this time.

He pulls out of you slowly, pushing up the bed and lying back as his arms tug you to him, your legs tangling with him as your hands find their spot on his chest.

“M’sorry”

His fingers thread through your hair, “S’not your fault love”

“I know I just feel stupid”

“You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that”

You give a small hun in response,

“I would’ve killed him”

“I know”

“Like terrible, awful, excruciating pain kinda murder”

You huff a small laugh in response, knowing that he was deadly serious as you push yourself from his side, your palms nudging him over,

“C’mon go get dressed for bed”

[babygirl-riley]

Hi I have a request so it’s like Simon and his wife arguing pretty badly like to the point where she’s shouting bare at him she’s on the verge of tears and while their arguing their new born cries so the reader goes upstairs to the crying baby once their baby is calm she doesn’t even go back downstairs to talk to him she just like stays in the baby room and goes on her social media to distract her self from Simon.

Hii so I have this written in my notes I always do that so I don’t forgot what I’m gonna ask and I hope this is what u meant tho cause im so slow it acc took me bare long to understand 😭

Quiet Home

You and Simon have been back to back arguments. Before you both could finish this one a loud cry interrupted the fight.

A/N: this is exactly what you asked for 😭 So embarrassing truly 💀 However this really tugged the heartstrings

“I want to be close to you, but I don't know what to do.'Cause if we are near to through, it may make it worse.”

Warnings: baby blues, depression, anger, arguments, fighting, yelling, screaming, baby crying, swearing, soft!simon, husband!simon, happy ending

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You were exhausted, you would clean, go get groceries, wake up every hour with the newborn, and everything in between. Usually you had Simon right beside you and help you with the smallest things. However, duty calls. Price promised Simon a couple months leave however, it was an emergency.

When Simon first brought it up, you knew he saw the rolling of the eyes but you brushed it off. Simon brought it up later and you just tried to push it away. Eventually it blew up. Things were said and yelled that weren’t meant to come out. Simon slept in a different room and he was gone for a couple of weeks.

You didn’t answer his calls but text him updates. It was petty but it’s a petty time. You were promised to have your husband here with both your child. Yet you are here almost falling asleep anytime it was early in the morning to feed the baby. You sat outside of the room of your baby as she bailed and bailed, being irritated and tired. Eventually you would go in sure but you were so scared that you would yell at her for being a baby.

After the couple of weeks you tried to brush it under the rug as you made Simon’s favorite dinner. Knowing he would be home. He text you stating that he will be home around 7 o clock and he was excited to see both you and the baby. 7 went to 8, 8 went to 9, 9 went to 10, 10 went to 11, and so on. The food went cold and baby was down. Especially you were tired.

You already put the food away and sat in the living room. You watched the clock before you angrily got up and started the bath. You needed to cool down. You heard the heavy footsteps heading down the hall. You rolled your eyes with the clock read 1 AM.

Simon noticed the light beaming through the room you both shared. Inhaling deeply he stepped in and rounding into the bathroom. You stood with a robe on and touching the warm water.

“S’rry ‘m late.” He said watching your movements.

“Okay.” You said not looking at him.

He frowned and shook his head. “I had a ton of paperwork and didn’t notice the time. Thought I had enough time.”

You didn’t say nothing as you went to the cabinet and pulled out your favorite salts for the bath. Simon watched as you poured them in and went back to put it away. “Y/n please.”

“Please what Simon? You were late. You weren’t here. Shit happens right? Emergencies happen. It’s whatever at this point.” You scoffed as you finally looked at him.

Simon noticed the anger in your eyes. He was upset that he left without resolving the last fight. He was upset that when he called you didn’t want to talk. He was upset he wasn’t home when he was supposed to be and not seeing his babygirl. He also noticed you are tired. Exhausted even. The bags. The purple shade underneath your eyes. “It’s my job you knew that when you signed up for it.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You don’t think I know that? Don’t you dare throw that in my face Simon. We were promised a break for our child yet he drags you back and you are willing to without a second glance.”

“Really? It goes back to me not carin’ about our family huh? That’s what you said before I left. You think I care more about my job than us.”

“Yes! Yes I do! I think that you are stuck in a loop without anyone but you! You are fine with just going instead of being here!” You yelled starting to walk out and brushing passed Simon.

“It’s my job! I have to go! I can’t leave my team behind!” He yelled back following you.

You scoffed as you ripped your robe off, ripping open your drawers. “Right but you can do it to us.” You mumbled pulling out sweats and a t-shirt.

“What’s that supp’se to mean?” He basically growled.

You snapped up and looked at him. “Ever since Millie was born it was like you have been gone. You will help yes but how long did that last before you skipped your happy ass to Price,” You yelled pulling the sweats up as you felt a sting of tears coming. You laughed as you heard nothing from him. “I have been doing this by myself with no help! Nothing Simon!”

“That’s not fair! How many times do I have to say it’s my fuckin’ job…”

“You have a job here!” You screamed as tears started to spill and right before anyone could say anything a wail broke through the air.

You both stood there for a minute before you raked your fingers through your hair. You wiped your eyes angrily. “Damn it,” You pulled your shirt on before walking out, grabbing your phone on the dresser. “I am sleeping in the other room.” You slammed the door shut before walking to the baby’s room.

You opened it as Millie screamed louder. You cried as you walked closer that turns to a sob. You didn’t know what to do. How to do it. You don’t know how to keep her asleep and fed and changed without being upset. You gripped the crib hard as you couldn’t move. You were tired and your baby needs you. “I’m sorry,” You cried as you picked her up and shushed her softly. “I know I know.”

You sat in the rocking chair as you let your baby fed. You scrolled on social media seeing all the happy couples. All what they are doing. All your friends looking like they don’t have problems. You missed Simon, not like he changed, just his touch, he soft voice when he whispers I love you. You missed his laugh when you both would have that marriage banter. You missed his tea.

You are afraid that maybe having a kid was a bad idea. That it ruined or tainted everything. You looked at your baby and inhaled. How could you think like that? What has she done to make you feel that way? It seemed like anytime Simon was around you were angry. Small arguments that turned into this. Your lip trembled and you held your baby closer to your chest. Tears prickling your eyes.

You threw your phone on the ground and sobbed. You were a monster. How could a mother think like that? Why would a wife yell at her husband for doing his job? You kept thinking about all the bad things that happened or been thought of that you didn’t notice that your baby was being scooped up.

When the cold air touched your skin, you opened your eyes panicked. You thought you dropped her as you looked down with tears blinding you before you felt a hand on your cheek. You snapped your eyes to see Simon, holding your baby girl close to his chest as she was asleep. “Baby,” He whispered concerned on his face. He was kneeling as he wiped tears after tears. “Come on let me put her to bed and let’s go talk please.”

“No,” You mumbled as you stood up. “I got her.”

Simon stood up and shook his head. “Please, you look tired.”

“I-I no she needs me.” You whispered but made no move to grab her.

“She has me too,” He said quietly. “Go to the kitchen please.”

You stared for a moment and looked at your baby. How small she was compared to him. How secure she looks when he was holding her. You nodded as you wiped more of the tears away. “Okay.”

Guilt pinged your chest as you glanced once to see him bouncing a bit as he slowly put her down. You walked into the kitchen and sat at the island as quiet tears slipped. You are tired you felt your body relax and felt heavy. “Baby,” You snapped your head up and saw Simon holding a kettle. “Do you want tea?”

You nodded once and looked away. It was quiet as he face the kettle waiting for it to go off. “I’m still mad at you.” You mumbled.

Simon nodded as he turned to lean against the counter. “Why is that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Simon you know why.”

Simon walked up and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Y/n I’m not doin’ it to hurt you two.”

You froze for a moment before looking away. Thoughts of how it could be different with him not having the damn job. However, he was right he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. “I told Price to call someone else but…he needed me for what I know.” You slowly looked at him as Simon looked the other direction. “I fought the old man about it for days. I didn’ say nothin’ cause I knew you would be upset. I didn’t notice that I was pushing you and our princess away. Just-just tried to figure out how to get out of it…I’m sorry.”

Now you felt even more bad. He tried to fight not to go and fought for the two of you. You inhaled but don’t exhaled afraid of sobbing once more. The moment Simon looked at you, you sobbed and hid your face with your hands. “I didn’t-I’m so sorry Simon.”

Simon walked around and shook his head as he turned the chair to gently pull you on for a hug. “Baby I should have said something and not fought it alone.”

You sobbed and sobbed as everything came down. “I’m so tired Si. I am tired of being awake so damn early. I am tired of cooking. I am tired of not being able to do anything. I am tired of fighting with you. I am sorry Simon. I should have been m-more understanding. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to marry such a bitch. I have been so ru…”

He gently pushed you off to grab your wrists to show your face. Simon smiled softly before grabbing your chin with his thumb and finger. “I know. I know. You been overwhelmed with so much. We will figure it out yeah? It’s okay, we are fine. I married you for you even when it’s rocky. It won’t always be perfect.”

You calmed down a bit as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

The kettle goes off as Simon kissed your forehead to walk over. You sat still as Simon came around. “I will be here right now, try my best to help you my love.”

You looked up and saw him, his eyes glowing with love. You inhaled and nodded as he pulled you back into his chest. You snuggled in and felt warmth throughout your body. God no one deserves Simon Riley.

[barbiesmuse]

ᡣ𐭩 DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which simon riley decides to message you after a year of no contact!

tags: angst, romance-ish, talk of abusive parents, simon's an asshole, slight age gap (27 - 30!), cursing, very slight body image issues, simon is a wreck, not proofread oopsie! talia talks: this is my first post!! this account is inspired by @audisive, much love to this blog! if this does well a part two will be out soon!

One year. Today officially marks one year since Simon left without any warning. He didn't even leave a note. You were a wreck. No one was able to get in contact with you for a month. Simon was your first everything. You questioned yourself over and over. You often find yourself looking in the mirror. You studied your appearance in the mirror. Was it the way you looked? Was it your age?

It took almost two months for you to even begin working again. It wasn't as if Simon was your world, but he was a very important part of it. After you got yourself back on your feet life was beginning to get better. You moved to a new city, got a new job, found new friends, and left your old self behind. A change of pass, at least that's what you wanted. 

No matter how much you wanted to forget the day he left you couldn't. He was always there in the back of your mind. The sound of his voice replaying over and over again. You would catch yourself staring into space, thinking of what life would be like if he was here now. How would he touch you? Simon left a large wound, and you felt as if it wouldn't heal anytime soon. You wondered if would you be engaged or married. Simon left like you were nothing to him, but it was quite the opposite.

Leaving you was the hardest thing Simon had ever done. Simon wasn't one for crying, he despised it. Yet as he took one last look at your once-shared home he felt a singular tear slip down his cheek. The salty liquid traced the curve of his face and slipped into his mouth. The taste of his tears brought him back to himself. Crying? Pathetic.

Simon Riley grew up in a rough house. His father was either absent or drunk. His mother died when Simon was young. He grew up hardened by abuse and war, but when he saw you it all went away. You were the light of his life. He often got lost in the darkness, thoughts of trauma and PTSD clouding his thoughts. You, you were the one thing that stopped him from destroying himself. Now that he didn't have you, he told himself he had nothing to lose.

Simon had stopped going to work, he had stopped eating, and he had stopped speaking. It was as if he wasn't living anymore, like his heart stopped. Simon was staying with his godmother, she was the only constant thing in his life now. He stayed in his room, only coming out once a week to eat. His godmother, Delena worried about him. She had known Simon since he was a child. She watched him grow up, and this was not like him.

Today was the day that marked a year, and you and Simon were both a mess. You wanted nothing more than a warm embrace from Simon. You imagine the creaking in the floorboards was his large boots trudging up the stairs. You imagined he had just come back from deployment, you would smile as he walked into your once-shared room. The sound of your phone “ding!” brought you out of your daydream.

Simon.

As Delena knocked softly on Simon's door she heard the sound of Simon's heavy breathing. Delena didn't wait for confirmation to walk in. She found Simon on his bathroom floor. A bottle of Disaronno lay by his side. His phone was cracked and his balaclava was nowhere to be found. His eyes were red, his lips were chapped, and his hands were shaking. He looked up at Delena with tired glossy eyes. He stayed away for a reason, he was going to ruin you. He wasn't healthy, no part of him was healthy. He was toxic, the only good part about him was you. But he didn't have you anymore.

Simon looked at Delena as she sat down next to him, her back sliding against the wall until she hit the ground. She chuckles softly and his lips curl into a tight grin. “I texted her,” Simon says, he picks up his cracked phone and shows it to his godmother. She gives him a sympathetic look and rubs his back. She knew that you were going to text back. She wished deep down you wouldn't. He had left you, who's to say he won't do it again? But she could never say that to her godson. 

“Well, that was very brave of you, Si.” The older woman says. Her hair was a gorgeous silver color. Her nails were painted a dark red. Simon liked the way she carried herself, with class and elegance. Simon, on the other hand, was a mess. She sighed as she realized there was a slight chance he might never get better. Delena wasn't sure if she was okay with that. She was getting too old.

Your breath hitched as you read the text. Simon had texted you? Why? You didn't want to respond, you hated him. He left you, he never called or texted. Not even a letter, so why should you respond to his text? Yet as you open the message, your heart drops.

Simon. I miss you, love.

talia talks: this was fun to write!! part two will be on it's way soon! xoxo!

[celenawrites]

You apologize to Simon.

AO3 Version

Three days. 

Three days of silence since you and Simon had a fight over something insignificant enough for you to even forget about it after a night’s sleep. Three days of silence and avoidance due to an argument that could’ve ended in less than an hour had you been more amenable. You can make excuses all you want (and you’d like to, it’s easier than acknowledging you’re the one at fault for a change - easier to ignore the lump in your throat and your shortened breath, or how warm your ears are from shame) - talk about how shitty this week had been, how much of a right cunt your boss was, or how things just don’t seem to go your way no matter what you do; despite your best efforts, life seemed to be holding a mean grudge against you and punishing all your efforts for it lately. 

Paired with all the shitty things in your life at the moment, and one of these days when Simon ends up saying something to you in a tone that you couldn’t seem to take kindly to (you try your best to understand people and what they say to you, you really do; yet your past has never been as kind to you, and sometimes your patience runs thin despite your best efforts) - which ultimately resulted in you screaming your head off at him. Simon has the patience of a saint on most days - years of war, trauma, and abuse had motivated him to be much kinder than his family ever was, urging him to do everything in his power to never end up as the man who sired him. 

But you forget sometimes that he’s a Lieutenant and he has the tenacity and the rage needed to put the rowdy recruits at the base into place just fine. So when his anger snaps and it does when you decide that he doesn’t get a chance to defend himself (you’re judge, jury, and executioner and you have condemned him for a transgression not his own), he matches your cruel word for cruel word - dark eyes sizing you up as he raises his voice at you in a way that makes your lip quiver and your eyes burn with tears of shame and burning anger as you throw him a mean glance before locking yourself up in the bedroom. 

Simon sleeps on the couch that night. 

You feel guilty the moment you wake up and notice the cold, empty space beside you - the lack of his warm body lying beside you is a sight that will possibly haunt you for the rest of your days. You note the time and you go out of the room, hoping to find your boyfriend sitting on the sofa after his morning run as he wipes his damp forehead with a micro-fiber towel, his brown pupils tracking the time just as you hear the kettle on the gas give out a loud whistle, evident of the fact that Simon had made both of your tea to share in the morning before you both part ways. Instead, you find the empty apartment greets you.  You expected as much. 

He’s angry - at you and at himself, and if he was here, you’d have told him you share the same sentiments. But he’s nowhere to be found in your shared apartment. So you whip up a quick English breakfast, put out all the things he’d need for him to brew his beloved Earl Grey when if he decides to come back and then you leave for work in a hurry. Your mind is preoccupied with worry - about work, about your mess of a life, about Simon and if he has eaten yet. The day passes you by in a blur, and you find yourself finally free from the dissociation you have been plagued with since morning, when you hear the sounds of your footsteps on the concrete sidewalk, taking the long route back home despite the setting sun painting the sky a blood orange, bleeding into the soft clouds and reflecting off of the shiny glass windows adorning the buildings around you. You prolong the commute for some reason - not in a rush to head back home just yet, afraid that this fight might have broken the camel’s back; that you’d return home and find him just gone. 

Like a ghost. 

Your fears are unfounded, luckily - you open the door to your house and find him sitting near the dining table with his arms neatly crossed up on the mahogany table, his face covered by a black surgical mask, and his eyes are unfocused as if he’s meditating deep in thought. You’re almost surprised that your entrance didn’t break him out of his thoughts, out of his own head. Your head feels heavy just by looking at him, and the way your throat constricts forces you to skip dinner altogether as you quickly grab a granola bar (or two) and decide to leave for the bedroom just as quickly, dumping your office attire in the wicker laundry basket near your bed. You leave the door to the bedroom unlocked. 

Just in case, you tell yourself. 

Your night mainly consists of tossing and turning haphazardly - you’re free to move due to the absence of those strong, scarred arms that hold you still and provide you the tether you need in order to actually fall asleep; but your restlessness eventually tires you out enough for you to catch at most a measly two-to-three hours of rest that leaves your eyes aching for more respite when the sunlight invades the softness of your room uninvited, blinding you for a solid minute as you try to gather your wits about you. 

When you turn around in your bed, you’re surprised to find it all messy (as if someone had slept in it while you were knocked out) and it smells of him. Him and his pine body wash and the little smoke that clings to him whenever he decides to go out and hang out with his military friends in a seedy pub and drink cheap beer and half-assed whiskey (he wouldn’t dare touch their Bourbon unless it was Kentucky). He slept here. 

It has been over a day since you last spoke to each other, but the idea of Simon still sleeping near you gives you a sense of comfort you weren’t aware you needed. 

You spend the day in and out of the house since it’s the weekend - bringing in fresh groceries from the farmer’s market and laying down all the vibrant fruits in a glass bowl at the center of the dinner table. You find Simon standing near the kitchen with a brush as he oils the hinges of the creaky door. You both acknowledge each other with a soft nod of your heads as you go about your day tackling chores that the busy week has allowed you to neglect till now. 

Then, you place the new succulents you couldn’t resist buying (couldn’t resist as they reminded you of Simon), and you adjust the window curtains so that they get ample sunlight. You turn around to see if Simon’s here; if he’d noticed the new plant pots and manure packets you had picked up - you wonder if he’d shake his head, almost amused as he joins you to tend to the little succulent pots. Instead, you hear the whirring of the lawn mower to indicate that your partner is outside, getting rid of the tall grass that invades the grounds surrounding your little home.

Then you notice that it is already noon, and decide to brew yourself some ginger tea and plate some oatmeal cookies on a saucer plate as you snuggle into the weary green couch with your current read (a book you had heard people rave about on social media, which made you buy it the moment the local bookstore had it in stock) and drape the cozy baby pink blanket over your shoulders. Simon is still outside, still working on the sparse vegetation of your lawn. You’d like him here right now, with you - drinking the tea from your cup and stealing one of your cookies as he pinches your cheek while you whine to him about it; his soft hands playing with the stray strands of your hair and pulling you into him till your head rests on his chest and his soft heartbeat lulls you to sleep with a lullaby of his worn heart. 

Instead, you sit alone on the sofa, and you almost call out to him and your lead tongue weighs heavy in your jaw (makes it tick an awful lot) and you reason with yourself that the whirring of the loud mower would make it near impossible for him to hear you anyway, so there’s really no merit in screaming your head off as you try to call out to him over the noise. 

You excuse your hesitation with technicalities - it has been a lifelong habit.

Reading with a warm cup of tea has made you drowsy (almost compliant) and you don’t remember when you had allowed yourself to close your eyes, your hands loosen their grip on the book as it fell onto the plush cushion beside you. You wake up an hour or so later, to the afternoon sun blinding your eyes momentarily, and you rub them lightly with your fingers as you try to rub the sleep away. You find the house awfully quiet, an anomaly from what it usually used to be  - the background noise of the television playing a repeat of an old season of the baking show you and Simon would watch while holding each other close, the rhythmic ‘thump thump thump!’ of the hammer as Simon works on whatever passion project you have on your mind (you remember when he made you a dresser from scratch, and when you showed him the Pinterest post that inspired you to request his services, he squinted at the small device screen as he probably wondered how he had ended up being your personal handyman), or the sound of scrawling of ball-point pens as he tries to solve the daily sudoku puzzle in the newspaper. You can hear none of it. 

And there is no whirring of the lawn mower in the backyard anymore. 

You look into the bedroom, and kitchen en route to find it empty - the bed is still well made and there is no 6 '4 behemoth of a man hunched over the gas stove as he brews himself another cup of Earl Grey for the day. You decide to climb the stairs, hoping to find your boyfriend holed up in the spare bedroom that you both had renovated into a study room - something Simon can use whenever he’s forced to bring work to home, and when you need to hole yourself up as you try to finish an impromptu project the night before a very important meeting (that never worked out for you) or work on your work reports that truly embodies ‘brevity is the wit of the soul’ with how empty the Word document looks despite you staring at your laptop screen for hours on end, urging yourself to just write something. 

You open the door lightly, cringing as the hinges squeak at the minute movement. Guess he only oiled the kitchen door today. You peer into the room, apprehensive of facing your partner head-on, stealing a glance into the usually empty room with your heels off the floor, ready to take flight at the slightest hint of confrontation. God knows your heart cannot take it. 

Simon is hunched over the mahogany desk, his head is cushioned by his crossed arms (you can admire his tattoo sleeve with the black t-shirt he had decided to wear, despite the sweltering heat) and he seems to be fast asleep. Christ, he’s gorgeous. 

The sunlight makes his hair light up, and his relaxed face along with scars and healing bruises remind you of the vibrancy and lightness that Monet’s paintings possess. You never thought a person could be like art. And then you met Simon Riley. 

He’s snoring out loud, his blonde hair is a mess - strands of hair pointing in all directions (you still need to cut his hair right; his last haircut had ended up with him having uneven layers all over his head - you’d have much preferred that he should’ve just taken a trimmer and given himself a buzz so at least he can regrow his blonde hair right)  and he’s sweating buckets while sleeping on the wooden table.  And while you still hold some anger in your heart for how your last argument went, and yet all you can think about is how much you love him. You don’t blame him entirely for how you both are now - skittish and walking on eggshells, the wounds of your previous fight still fresh and stinging and oozing with crimson. 

You know you're in the wrong as well, but it's hard to make amends with your dear boyfriend because whenever you try to speak to him you feel a lump in your throat that stops you from speaking your true feelings out loud to him. Shame creeps up on you like the weight of the world is on your shoulders alone (is this how Atlas felt?), and the humiliation chokes you off - your tongue heavy with unsaid things and your empty arms aching to forego all niceties and hold him where he truly belongs. 

So you decide to break the silence between the both of you in the best way you know how, because you love Simon. Because you love him more than you love your bruised ego. 

You make him his favorite tea (‘Was it his third or fourth cup of Earl Grey?’, you mused while pouring the hot beverage into a clean mug.) and cleanly cut open a clementine from the groceries you had brought in earlier (your hands are sticky with its juices as you try to separate each piece from its leathery peel), fanning out all the pieces over the flowered ceramic plate, something you had convinced Simon to buy for the house when you first decided to visit a flea market together to stock up on necessary things after your lover finally asked you to move in with him. That was over a year ago. 

Words may be failing you right now, but you hope your actions can convey your remorse and love for him.

You walk back into the room to see Simon awake, his hands rubbing all over his face as he tries to get rid of the fatigue. You freeze, unsure of how to handle your current predicament. You have been hoping that he’d be still sleeping so that you could quietly place the tray near the table and leave without disturbing him. But he’s awake, and as he glances back at you, you wonder if you look like a deer caught in the headlights - your little detour interrupted by his alert as he takes all sensibilities away from your being. 

“You brought me fruit”, he said dumbly.

“Yeah. And tea”, you reply back dumbly. 

You stare for a beat too long and then abruptly cross the room, quietly placing the plastic tray with the fruits and his tea mug on the study table. You notice the manila folders scattered around, some pages strewn around his working space but you avert your eyes to avoid reading anything written on them - you’d rather not read all that he has to deal with on almost a daily basis as a man of the military. In such moments, you truly do not envy Simon. 

“Uh, I’ll leave you to it then”, you whisper to him, all soft as you swallow the words you truly wish to say. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I wish I could hold you. I cannot lose you. Please be angry, be mad at me, yell as much as you want. Hold me, I miss you. 

You wish you could at least choke on them to save face. 

You leave the room instead. 

You clean up the living room - you fold the blanket and fluff the pillows and you ignore how your back burned with his gaze on you as you left the study room. You put the flowery bookmark where you had last stopped reading and you go to the kitchen to prepare something light and easy for lunch (pasta in white sauce and toasted garlic bread) and you ignore the urge to drop everything and rush upstairs and spill all the apologies you have wished to communicate but have failed to since the day of the fight. 

Your ego has always reared its ugly head in moments like these. What was borne as a means to protect yourself with the wounds your loved ones had inflicted on you has now made it impossible for you to make amends with the only man that matters to you on God’s green Earth. But ego is nothing compared to the love you have for Simon. So when you’re done with the cooking, you take your sweet time cleaning up the island of the kitchen and you go upstairs to invite him for lunch - you hope the food will soften him up enough to accept the apology you will offer him as a white flag later on. 

You peek inside the room, standing behind the half-closed room and you see him sitting in the black ergonomic office chair (you had bought it after you couldn’t listen to his back crack every time he got up from bed, or from the plastic chair that he used to sit in while staying at his desk for hours on end, only agonizing his fucked-up back further). He’s leaning back on the chair and it creaks under his weight slightly, and he stays motionless, eyes closed and shoulders tense. It’s even better since you won’t have to be weighed down by his intense eyes. 

You walk on your toes, socked feet muted and nimble as they walk across the hardwood floor and you note that he had finished up all the clementine pieces you had laid out for him on the floral plate, and the orange mug is mostly empty - save for remains of sugar residue sticking at the very bottom of the utensil. (You had been surprised to know that the scary, big man you call your boyfriend had a sweet tooth. Luckily, it gave you the perfect excuse to visit the bakery two blocks down on your way back home from work with a paper box of dessert or two.)

You know how hard it really is for him to be at ease, and his tensed shoulders serve as the testimony to that harsh truth. You know sneaking up on him like this will only make him lash out - all in the name of pure self-preservation. And you won’t ever blame him for it.  He hasn’t told you all of it, but between shared silences and a post-coital cigarette on his behalf, he’d open up - the endorphins would make him talk sometimes, and he’d talk of his Ma. Of Tommy. Never his dad. He hasn’t laid down the entirety of his scarred soul bare for you, but you know enough to not hurt him like that ever again. So you gently allow yourself to take note of his uneven hair and say, “I keep forgetting to cut your hair”. 

Your hand creeps up on his neck, eager palm gently running through the golden tufts as they coil around the tips of your fingers. Your attention is on the way his shoulder tenses when you announce your presence in the room. (You’re certain he knew you had come here before, and he knew you were here before you even came this close. He’d never leave himself this vulnerable if he knew there was a threat abound.)

His shoulders stay the same, but you can hear the audible exhale he lets out, and you slowly use your other hand to gently massage the area where his neck meets his shoulder - aware of the stiffness that has been ailing him there for a while now. He groans in relief, and he blinks his eyes open to greet you with brown pupils and a solemn look you fail to decipher.

He looks at you with his head tilted back against the chair, and you focus on the lightning-like scars that cover half of his face, traveling from his temple all the way to the left corner of his chapped lips. “Thank you for the snacks”, he mutters, his eyes trailing all over your face. 

You hum a little, not providing him with a response.

“Would’ve been nicer if you were here to eat them with me…”, he trails off, hoping you’d catch the bait. 

“Yeah. Would’ve been even better if we talked too, no?” You smile down at him, and you gently scratch his scalp as you kiss his temple, murmuring your apology against his skin like a forgotten prayer to an old deity. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. 

“I’m so sorry for being a cunt. You know that right, Simon?” you ask him, and you can already feel your chest cave in on itself and your eyes burn with tears of remorse. 

“Wasn’t like I was any better, lovie”, he mumbles, and you feel his shoulders sag in relief under your touch. You tell yourself that’s a good sign. 

“Still…”, your fingers gently mess with his hair, “Should’ve swallowed my damn ego, and apologized to you soon”. It’s a learning process. For both of you. 

“Would’ve been easier if you didn’t scamper about whenever you saw me”, there’s amusement in his eyes, and you chuckle at him fondly as you invite him to join you for lunch. He turns the chair around until he’s facing you, and then he pulls your wrist in his hand as he reverently lays down a gentle peck against your knuckles. (You know your skin carries the taste of dish soap on it, and you hope it doesn’t taste too bitter when Simon kisses your hands as if they were God.)

“Missed you”, he speaks against your skin, mimicking your prayer as he looks up at you, and your breath hitches - just a little as you stare down at Simon. Your dear Simon. 

The silence was maddening. 

“I missed you too, Simon”. 

Note -

I got my first apology from a now-close friend of mine when I was 18 years old, and God did it change how I looked at love and people completely. So I guess this piece is dedicated to that friend. Thank you, Voltie. <3

Also, I mainly show my love for people through gift-giving and acts of service and I think Simon is a big 'acts of service' guy…..so here it is - Simon dealing with a girlie who is just as emotionally constipated and can only show her love by doing things for him

totally not inspired by my Asian/Desi upbringing lol

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

[tryingtoremembermyname]

i have an unhealthy obsession

[elexaria]

it was only supposed to be a fling.

simon’s not ready for a relationship. he can’t be in one, he can’t handle the pressure of conforming to one person.

so he tells you that. “my job comes first, yeah? whatever.. this is… it’s nothin’ serious.” he tells you that when you first sleep together, and you agree. “i know.” is all you reply with as you stand up, getting dressed again.

that’s what he keeps on having to remind himself. it can’t be anything more than an affair. but then you begin to be around every corner he turned, he can hear your laughter from his room— fuck, you even manage to outshine an entire room in your military garb.

he’s so frustrated whenever he’s fucking you, his teeth gently sinking into your shoulder when he goes to kiss you. his grip on you tightens when he fights against his instincts which scream at him to make love to you. your post-coital flush makes his softening dick twitch, and that sweet sigh you make when you start getting dressed drives him up the wall.

and then he’s back to square one when you get assigned to a different team. staring up at the dark velvet sky peppered with threads of purple hues. wondering if you’re looking up at the same sky as him, thinking about what could have been.

[barefoothighlander]

Ghost with a fem reader who used fake her own orgasms? Poor girl doesn't want "trouble him" :(

headcanoning that Simon would be deeply offended if reader faked her orgasm with him, his ego is too big to take that hit.

warnings: mdni (18+), est relationship, oral (fem rec), first orgasm, fingering, not proofread

“What was that?” He stops his movements, his face is inches from yours as he leans over your frame, the warmth of his breath blowing across your skin.

“I came” You bat your eyes at him

“No, you didn’t”

“I did, it’s fine keep going” You wriggle your hips, urging him to move, he furrows his brows at you, sitting back on his legs as he pulls from you.

“Why are you lying?” His tone isn’t angry, more curious or concerned as he watches you sit up against the headboard. You pull your legs toward your chest, growing nervous under his gaze as your eyes dart around the room, refusing to settle on his.

“M’not lying Si, I finished”

“Not to be crude but I know what it feels like when a girl cums, and I’ve heard your real noises, those weren’t them”

“They were I’m just, tired I guess”

You move to pull the covers over your form, shielding yourself from his stare,

“Love, if something doesn’t feel good you can tell me, we’ll try something else”

“No it feels amazing, believe me, it’s just” You try to think of your words as he places a soft hand on your leg,

“Just what darling”

“I don’t want to trouble you is all, have you go out of your way to make me finish”

Ghost swears his heart splinters at your words, your tone striking right through him,

“C’mere” He extends his hands to you, settling back on his legs as his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. You settle your arms around his neck, his warmth transferring to your skin like a blanket as he peppers light kisses over your shoulders and neck.

“Love, you’d never trouble me, especially with this believe me, nothing turns me on more than hearing your noises, or feeling you squeeze me”

He places a kiss on your lips before pulling back, gazing at you with his dark eyes,

“I’ve just, never had one before”

“Ever?”

“I mean by myself yeah, but not from another person”

His hands squeeze your waist, “Can I?”

You furrow your brows at him in question, urging him to explain,

He leans in, his lips ghosting over your pulse point “Let me make you feel good, please love”, and how can you say no when he has you melting in his grip, his dark eyes staring into yours as his accent thickens.

You bite down on your lower lip, nodding your head as he smirks, his hands shaking around your back, laying you down as his lips travel down your bare skin, nipping and licking at the flesh.

He trails a path towards your sex, sucking at the skin around your hips as his hand play with your breasts, kneading the flesh as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

He wastes no time in spreading your thighs for him, allowing his lips to settle just in front of your sex as his eye stare up at you, gaging your reaction.

He flattens his tongue, licking a stripe through your folds, watching the way your jaw falls open as your heel digs into the flesh of his back, pulling him in closer, you can see him grin against your skin as he presses his tongue against your clit, licking up and down against the bud, sending shock waves through your nerves.

He circles your clit with his tongue as his fingers trace over the skin of your inner thigh, teasing their way towards your entrance before sitting just atop your hole, forcing you to clench around nothing.

“Si, please” Your hands reach for him, trying to grab at his skin as his free hand snakes up the sheets, tangling his fingers into yours, allowing you to ground yourself through his touch as he slides his fingers into your weeping pussy, pushing past his second knuckle to brush deep inside you.

He buries his face in your cunt, his lips locked around your clit as his tongue flicks over it, the sounds falling from your lips are music to his ears, his satisfaction shown through the hums he makes against your core, the vibration has your head falling back against the pillow as the coil inside you burns.

You arch into him, craving more and he gives it to you, curving his fingers to brush against your sweat spot over and over, your own knuckles are white from the grip on his hand, the heels of your feet keeping him close to you as you come undone.

“Taste so sweet, look so perfect like this lovie”

His praise shoots straight to your core, like butterflies in your stomach your arousal continues to build, your slick coats his chin, dripping onto the sheets below as his fingers pump into you, he can feel the way you clench down on the digits with every flick of his tongue.

“Want you to cum for me, need to hear you”

He squeezes your hand, your gaze shifting down to him as his eyes lock onto yours, you watch him with hooded lids. He releases your hand, allowing you to thread your digits through his hair while his settles in your lower stomach, keeping your hips pinned as you squirm under him.

“Don’t stop. Gonna cum.”

High pitched whines escape your lips, writhing under his tongue as you fall apart, your hands gripping the sheets while your muscles tense around him, he works you through your high, a groan of satisfaction as he tastes your spend, your noises filling the air.

He lets you come down slowly, extending your orgasm slightly for his own pleasure as he detached from you, placing small kisses over your thighs and stomach before moving up the bed to lay next to you. You’re breathless as you stare at him, your hand finding it’s way to his bare chest as your fingers trace over the skin.

He lays on his side, one hand settled over your waist while the other plays with your hair, watching as your body settles from its high.

“How was that?” His thumb traces over your jaw,

“How long could you do that for?”

He releases a puff of air, “Hours, definitely hours”

You smirk, “Good”.

[tojisun]

WIP: still your passenger (re: deftones)

simon ghost riley x gn reader

!! angst; canon-compliant // i rlly loved this one but writers block hit me bad every time i try completing it :< might pick it up one day (hopefully!!)

there’s a new medic in the base – a pretty girl with a pretty smile, pretty eyes, pretty laugh. she’s beautiful, perfect with her auburn hair and her chestnut eyes; striking with her trimmed waist and sloping curves. 

you’ve only met her once when you needed an aspirin for your fever and never more after that, after all, there’s really not much of a reason for a base assistant like you to visit the station. so all that you’ve heard about her came from privates and base operators, greedy in the way they took in the sight she makes and how darling she looks. you can’t really blame them, not after seeing her; seeing how she is a beam of something soft and tender amidst their chaotic group.

it had been soap who started giving you the specifics.

her name’s erin, a lass hailing from yorkshire. the only family she’s got is a younger sister, anna, who is in university for astrophysics. 

“they’re a family of smart nuts,” johnny mused as he spun his shot of whiskey. “can you believe it? she’s pretty and wise.”

you oohed and aahed before telling him to remember to keep it in his pants because erin, beautiful and darling and gentle erin, is an important member of the squad. that she is necessary in the base; having been sought out for the very reasons that got johnny acting like a fool.

“of course i’ll keep it in!” johnny whined, bumping his head on the counter. “i don’t want to anger LT, y’know?”

cold dread washed over you upon hearing what he said, the quiet thrum of the alcohol being chased away by the slice of his words. you felt like bleeding, like you’ve been cut open and doused with ice, blistering chill creeping up from the softness of your lungs to your stuttering heart. 

“oh?” you remember asking, your voice startlingly void of emotions. “why would he be angry now?” your hands trembled and so you hid them from view, clenching them on your lap instead. 

johnny turned to you and quirked up a secretive smile. “why else?”

the weight of your grief pressed onto your chest, threatening to crack the columns of your ribs. you felt afloat, untethered, and you blinked back the sudden prickling you feel in the back of your eyes. 

you laughed with johnny, trying to smother the ache. trying not to drown in the harsh pools of your heartbreak.

because of course.

of course. 

you and simon are friends, but nothing more. nothing beyond the hushed voices and whispered ‘i’m glad you’re safe’ pressed onto each other’s cheeks because neither of you made things official anyway. no risks were taken, no promises to break. 

everything with him was just physical – chasing the cold nights away with the warmth of each other’s bodies pressed onto each other, fighting nightmares with each other's touches. 

sure simon cradled you in his tender embrace but that was all. just a temporary passion despite your everlasting yearning. 

“y’ready to go back to the base?” johnny asked and you said yes, another lie that dribbled from your trembling lips. because after that night, you knew that things were never going to be the same.

—————

ignoring simon was easy. it’s not like you needed to do much to avoid him, anyway, not with the way he was gravitating around erin. any other day it would have been laughable how simon followed her around like she’s got a bear of a man for her shadow but, well. seeing him be so taken by her makes you ache. 

the sparse moments he has that were sometimes spent with you were now overwritten by his visits to the facility where erin usually is. everyone who didn’t know that ghost was smitten over the new medic certainly knew now; he had long stopped making it a secret and instead, began to posture over those who tried pursuing erin. 

he was never a jealous man. that was until her, you guess.

and it’s not like you can fault erin for how simon acts, because could you blame him? could you blame anyone for that matter?

erin was, is, beautiful. she had a laugh that sounded like wind chimes and had a sparkle that perpetually made her eyes look brighter. she was soft even after seeing everyone’s troubles or their anger, always a beacon of tenderness amidst their bleeding wounds. but she was also fierce, a fighter with a bite that no one expected, but maybe you all should have because no one would ever survive being out in combat if one isn’t strong, anyway.

erin was, well, she was someone you knew simon needed in his life.

so, again, could you really blame him?

you have always known simon. you have always understood past his pretences – he wanted to settle. he wanted a life beyond the fight; wanted a family to come home to. 

he’s told you this so many times, hasn't he? murmured his wishes and desires at the top of your head as he cradled you in his arms, letting the exhaustion of the day bleed away from your pores as you shared a breath with him; he had waxed poetries for a distant future, one you have always thought you would have been a part of. 

one you thought you would have shared with him.

but you knew. despite your self-reassurances that you meant something to simon, you knew that when he envisioned his life, his future, it was one that did not include you.

it hurts, you thought to yourself as you pressed the back of your palms over your eyes. it hurts.

but how could it? how could you hurt over losing something that you never even had in the first place?

[undercoverpena]

keep you close.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader summary: he's pretty sure he's in love with you. not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it. an: angst with fluff, mentions of injury, war-stuff, cheeky stabbings, just cod things. no smut. just feelings. cause I wanted flangst. word count: 3.6k

masterlist for ghost.

Ghost doesn’t think when his eyes land on you. 

He should. 

He knows he should. 

But he fires his gun all the same, not content with the sound each body makes when they fall to the floor. He wants them to fall harder, almost land and shatter. 

He wants them to hurt.

It’s all he thinks as he slides the metal edge along the throat of the last one. The one who is hissing at him in a language he doesn’t even care to translate. 

Ghost cares about one thing, and one thing only: getting that radio message out of his head. 

It’s an ambush. Do not proceed. Get out—

It has been on a loop since he heard it.

Your radio message. 

The one which made Soap shout, calling for you as the static and crackle came back. The sound which made his blood run cold. The one which made him charge across the base grab the person who confirmed the intel by the shoulder, and made them piss themselves. Accidentally, of course.

It had been Soap who suggested sweeping the place, but it hadn’t been far from his mind.

They found your radio stood on, crushed—likely by your own boot. You’d always been thorough—you also usually wiggled your way out of these situations, 

It’s how you’d earned the moniker Mouse to begin with. 

His eyes caught the dried blood, hoping it didn’t belong to you as his flashlight followed its path until his jaw locked, his muscles tensing. 

Your scrunchie. 

That ridiculous one you bought months ago. The one which you’d found hilarious, and he had found anything but. Black, with tiny ghosts on it, for Halloween. No other reason, you’d said with a smirk. Unless you want to borrow it, sir? 

It’s in his pocket now. 

Has been since he found it. 

As he lets the last man fall, he brushes the pocket with his hand before wiping the blood on his thigh, sheathing his knife.

Turning, nodding in the direction of the other men as they checked them as he moved across the room to you, sliding his gun behind his back, and dropping to his knees. 

We bring Mouse back. By any means necessary. 

He’s thankful you’re alive and breathing. Watching as your head tilts —trying to work out who it is. Cautiously, both for the fact he’s considering it and for the knowledge he could hurt you, his gloved hand slides up your cheek, watching you tense before he pulls down the blindfold with his fingers. 

One eye is swollen, horrid, and puffy. Something which makes him want to put extra holes in each of the men for it. But, he can’t take his eyes from the one of yours, which blinks, and stares at him, taking him in. 

“I’m undoin’ this cuff.” 

You swallow, nodding, trying to keep the eye fixed on him. The handcuff releases from your wrists as your arms drop weakly. 

It’s then he can see the bruises. 

The ones which have formed and the ones about too. 

How the colours vary in spots along your exposed arms, neck and cheeks. Dreading to think of how deep they go, how far they spread under your clothes. 

“Sir…” you whisper, his head moving closer. “You’re a piss poor listener.”

“Almost as bad as you, soldier.”

Cautiously, he moves closer, his knees hitting against your legs as his hand slowly brushes over your arm. 

He’s aware the others have their eyes trained on him, Soap giving orders, busying them. It doesn’t stop him from moving his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close until his chest is close to your side.

“Do you want me to close my eye, make it easier for you?” you cough—sounding like a deflated lung. “You seem the type to hate touching people.”

“Enough.” 

It comes out gruff, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. The side of your busted lip twitching as he pulls you over his lap. 

He’s pretty sure it’s the gentlest he’s ever been, even more so with someone. He doesn’t mean to press his forehead against the side of yours. But, he thought he’d lost you. 

The annoying girl who talked too much, who smiled and had no issues with personal space. Unless you were on the battlefield. Then, you were different—quiet, tactile, mouselike. You scurry, you don’t miss, with a gun, a knife or a computer. 

Ghost knew he was fucked before today. 

But, this confirms it. 

The sharp pang in his chest is a horrid, bitter reminder of how fucked he is—especially with how his heart skips a beat when your hand shakes as it brushes against his mask.

He should look away as he lifts you, breaking the stare he has with you, but you move closer, whispering for him—and him alone. “I knew-w you’d find me.” 

He tightens his jaw, feeling a lump in his throat as he gives a curt nod. “Always.” 

“Always,” you repeat softly, eyelashes fluttering, desperate to close.

“Hey, eyes on me,” he says, and you do your best. You hope he knows that. “Good girl.” 

You hear someone shout for a medic, but it’s not him. 

He’s saying very little, just letting his breath dance across your neck and cheek as he holds you to him.

The next time he sees you, he's visiting you when you’re in recovery.

He’s heard from others you’re improving. Soap nudging him, ensuring he’s heard him—thinking he knows more than he does.

He does go, though. 

You’re smaller than him, but you look so much smaller in the bed. Your face finally regaining some colour, an expression not twisted up in pain. The bruises faded, eyes unswollen. 

It’s a welcomed sight after the last time he saw you.

He crosses the recovery room floor, the room slowly emptying around him. He was glad that the rest of the med bay was without patients. 

His chair squeaks with protest when he sits beside you, eyes glancing over your face, over your arms, checking and checking that everything is where it was supposed to be. 

You say nothing. 

He says nothing. 

He just sits, staring at you, letting his eyes roll over your face. You seem to let him, likely basking in the fact that you’re currently not being boiled alive by him. 

It’s nice. Quiet. 

It’s helping to drown out the whimpers and groans you’d been making all the way back here from your injury. 

Until the tension reaches such a height even if you can’t stomach it. 

“What you doing here, Lt?” 

“Ensuring you don’t act recklessly.” 

“I think I can behave for one night.”  

“Doubtful.” 

You play with the sheets on the bed, rolling them between your fingers as he watches you, knowing what’s coming before you’ve even opened your pretty little mouth. 

“I’d behave for you, if you asked.” 

Sometimes, your brashness even surprises him. 

“I have asked,” he says, stretching his leg out as he watches you smile. “You still disobey me.” 

You nuzzle down into your pillow, not taking your eyes off him. 

“Sleep, Mouse.” 

“With you watching me?” 

He clicks his tongue. “Sleep.” 

You smile softer, eyelashes looking heavy. “Okay.” 

Nodding, he interlocks his gloved fingers over his lap. 

You’d been silent. 

Too silent. 

He knew how you got your Codename. He’d read your file, after all. You sneaked through impossible holes figuratively and literally. Price had informed him how good you were with computers, he hadn’t known how good until he read it himself. 

You were good, capable, and able. 

He knew you could handle yourself, which is why it wasn’t that which concerned him. It’s the silence. 

You’ve been quieter overall since you came back—since he brought you back. Since he helped carry you back to the truck till he watched you get patched up. 

Something inside of you, that annoyingly cheerful part of you, had withered. He knew it, Soap knew it. 

“You following me?” 

“Could say the same to you.”

“Can someone even stalk a ghost?” 

You’d tried to hide it, more so from him than the others. Your body trying to twist from him, but his arm had stopped you.

“Something you need, Lt?” 

“No.”

You’d given him a curt smile. “Goodnight then, sir.” 

He didn’t miss the way you added the sir.

Not that he expects he’s supposed to. Shifting his jaw from side to side, having watched you walk down the corridor, not even bothering to turn to look back at him. 

That had been two days ago. 

Today, you had dark circles around your eyes. A tenseness in your shoulders as you were all briefed. 

He waited, seeing if you approached him, and asked him to stay behind—not entirely sure what his answer would be if you requested it. 

But you didn’t. 

It should have been a warning, your demeanour shifting, darkness descending down over you the closer they got to the location. 

“Mouse, you copy?” 

Silence. 

Even to Soap. 

Often, Ghost knew he warranted your anger. 

He was colder with you, more stern. Especially since he’d allowed himself a moment—when he’d been able to hold you, carry you. When he’d felt your heartbeat and watched your eyes fix on him—warming him. 

He had wanted distance and walls. Many of them, more so. 

Now, he wishes he hadn’t. 

Because with Soap, you were light, never ignorant. And maybe he’d have recognised how your anger and hurt had consumed you. That what happened between you being taken and being found had festered and eaten everything good inside of you.

He could relate. 

More than most. 

“Mouse,” Ghost radios, gruff voice and all. “Fuck.” 

He taps Soap, heading in your direction, almost charging. He knew it before he saw it before his foot kicked open the door and witnessed it with his own eyes. 

He even freezes for the briefest second. 

Half impressed with the number of bodies on the floor. 

But then he reacts, hooking an arm under your hips as he both lifts and moves you against the wall. The knife falling from your fingers, clattering against the stone, the only other sound is your panicked breaths and Soap exclaiming, “Steaming bloody Jesus…” as he enters the room. 

His forearm presses into the wall beside your head, caging you in as his other palm presses into the wall next to your hip. 

Because it was the mission to kill him—once they’d got the information. 

The information he couldn’t currently prove you had—but he’d hoped you did. Because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to contain his anger, his fury. Right now, it simmered, being kept back by that vacant look in your eyes he doesn’t recognise. Not in you, at least. 

You’re not looking at him. Not meeting his eyes. 

Too busy staring at the body on the floor, the one which has scarlet seeping from each hole you’d inflicted with a knife. His knife. 

“Mouse.” 

You don’t move, staring as if transfixed in the knowledge he’s dead. 

So he whispers your name. 

Your real name. 

Your eyelashes flutter into a blink, head-turning, finally pulling from the man who kidnapped you on the floor. 

“Got the drive,” you say in a tone void of emotion. 

Ghost didn’t want to shout, he didn’t want to scream at you, but he did all the same. 

Both in anger that you disobeyed an order and in a panic because he couldn’t stop the way his mind unravelled when you didn’t respond. 

That it took him back to that moment all over again. Where you were taken from him. Where he lost you. Where he should have protected you. 

“You wanna explain what the fuck happened back there?” 

You don’t look at him, folding your arms over your chest, suddenly finding the floor interesting. Pressing the sole of your foot against the wall as you leant, seemingly unbothered.

“That’s an order, Soldier—“

“I collected the information, and I stabbed him. Mission complete. Sir.” 

Sir. 

Fucking sir. 

He hated how it made him hard. Little bitch. 

“You disobeyed a direct order—“

“—The mission—“

“—You were supposed to wait for backup.” 

“I couldn’t risk it.” 

He rounds on you, forehead pressing against yours. “You couldn’t risk it?” 

Your eyes don’t soften. They hold his gaze, full of fire, ash and destruction. “Well. We’ve both seen the evidence of bad intel, haven’t we?” 

He stills. 

Blinking, staring into your eyes, seeing the darkness still swirling. The anger has lessened but still remains. 

“You need to let it go.” 

“I need to… what?” You look hurt, more than he thought you could, and then it vanishes, swept away by anger. “…fuck you, Ghost.” 

Moving from him, turning your back on him 

“Fuck me? If you continue down this path—“

Then you turn, your eyes burying into him. “It’ll what? Keep me up at night? Consume me? Well, guess what, Simon, it already has.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a tremor to your outstretched arm before you snap it back to your side. “For days, they asked me who we were. They had ideas. They did… inklings. But, they… they knew my fucking name, Simon. They…told me what they’d do, and I had nothing, not a single thing to drown it out as they described all the ways they’d kill Johnny, how they’d break Gaz, how they’d hurt…” 

You. 

The unspoken word hanging in the room. 

“I got it before, I did,” you say, words shaky at your almost declaration, “but I understand why you wear that mask—why you keep people out…” 

Your eyes fill with tears, one’s he wishes he could wipe away before they even meet your cheeks. 

“People you know can hurt you the most… right? That's what you said.” 

His head reeling back an inch, but it feels like he’s been hit. And then you leave, storming out of the room, and he doesn’t stop you. 

Because he knows he shouldn’t. 

Because you’d called him Simon. 

Not Ghost. 

He hates that you’re not here. 

You’ve been avoiding him. Outside of briefings and necessity, you’re nowhere else to be found. 

The rest of them are around a table, beers in their hands. His mask lifted just enough to enjoy his—if it didn’t taste like nothingness. 

Because there were no kind eyes on him. No jesting coming from a soft, sweet voice. 

Especially right now, when it’s needed as they discuss who they’re currently fucking their fist over. He hears someone ask him, something he ignores. 

And then Soap speaks for him. “I think Ghost here has his eyes on—“

“That’ll do.”

The others snigger, mumbling about getting some air as he cracks his neck. Hoping if he ignores Soap enough, he’ll vanish too. 

“Talk to her.” 

Ghost rolls his head on his shoulders, meeting his sergeant's expecting face.

Soap slaps his hand on his back. “Trust me, Lt, talk to her.” He tries to think of something, anything, to respond with. He hasn’t got anything until he continues, “Didn’t think you had a heart.” 

“A cold one. I have a cold one.” 

Soap smirks. “I doubt it’ll remain that way.” 

It doesn’t take him long to find you, seeing you huddled over papers and a computer. 

He considers watching you, but he steps in before he’s caught, offering you a mug, one you stare at suspiciously before taking it. 

You prefer a milky tea, one sugar. 

A person after his own heart. 

Right now, he imagines you need something different, so he chose coffee.

“What’s this?” 

“A boost. You need it.”

“Thanks?” 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

Letting himself see how dark the bags under your eyes have gotten. 

“You’re not sleepin’.” 

“Can’t.” 

He taps the desk with two fingers, your eyes lifting up to face him. Slowly, he retracts his hand, holding your stare as he takes his glove from his hand. He knows his sleeve has risen, the ends of his tattoo showing as he offers you his hand.

“You made me a drink, and now you want me to what, leave it?” 

Slowly, he nods. 

Your huff sounds before you stand, slapping your hand into his. It isn’t until your fingers are in his does he watch your eyes flicker, realising that you're touching him—really touching him. 

“Ghost…” 

“C’mon. Now.” 

He doesn’t let go or lessen his hold, not even when you slide your fingers between his. Not when everything inside of him tells him to run, to tell you to run. 

His mouth doesn’t open, it remains shut as he brings you to his room, opening the door, letting it swing open before he lets his eyes meet yours. 

Letting your eyes take it in before he nudged you forward. 

“Ghost…” 

“Simon,” he says gruffly. “My name is Simon.”

He shuts the door slowly behind the two of you, releasing your hand, moving it to his neck. 

Your eyes follow him, the air thickening—he can feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck standing, the ones on his arms standing. He’s even sure time is ticking slowly. 

Especially when he begins to slide his mask up, slowly showing you his chin, his cheeks, and his nose. 

Your lips parting, mouth falling open as he pulls it off that last bit. Nothing hidden, not from you. 

Swallowing, you make a noise, a squeak as if you’re about to say something, before clamping your mouth shut. 

“Hi.” 

Your lips twitch. “Hi.” 

His fingers brush yours ever so slightly, forcing your eyes to dip before landing back on his with so much adoration—he’s not sure how he deserves it. Any of it.

“What does this mean?” 

“It means you go to sleep. Here.” 

You raise a brow, and he almost smirks. Almost.

“Not like that.” 

Shrugging, you smile. “Coulda fooled me.”

Sighing, he lets go of your fingers. “You can’t sleep because you’re alone. But, if I’m here—“

“You’ll keep the ghosts away?” 

He runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. 

“Anything else this… declaration means? 

“Means you can trust me.”

He watches your head tilt, a scrunch to your brows and your forehead as you look at him. “I trusted you anyway.”

“Then get in bed.” 

He wonders if your cheeks are warm if they’re full or blush. More so when your eyes land on the floor, and he turns his back, moving to his things, finding you a t-shirt. 

On you, it’ll bury you. 

Which makes it perfect, just as perfect as the sound of you undoing your belt is to him and the faint sound of your trousers hitting the floor. 

“Here,” he says, holding the T-shirt behind his back, not wanting to look. 

Not even when he feels your fingers slide down his forearm, over his ink. When he feels your index and middle slide along his pulse, over his wrist and palm before taking it. 

It’s not until he feels your hands on his sides does he turn, your eyes looking up at him—somewhat close to the eyes he knew, the ones which first had his heart pulsing furiously as it is now. 

“Do you snore?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“Sleep naked?” 

“Not all the time.” 

“Good,” you comment, loosening your grip as he turns to face you. “Hate for you to have gone to all this effort to not let me get a wink of sleep.” 

The double meaning of your words isn’t lost on him. 

Especially when he sees the twinkle in your eye, the grin desperate to blossom over your lips. 

“Unless…”

“Another time,” he says, even if he hates himself for it just a bit. “Now, get in bed.” 

You nod, smiling, “Yes, Sir.” 

Fucking hell. “Less of that.” 

“Any reason?” 

He snorts, turning to watch you climb into his bed, slowly pulling his T-shirt over his head, hearing you inhale as if your mouth was next to his ear. 

“I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.”

He flicks the light off, wondering if your heart is hammering as much as his. Each step towards you feels like a mile, but he’d do it again and again. Feeling for your hand and the sheets you’re offering him, sliding in beside you.

For a moment, he’s tense. 

Just as you are. 

Especially as his bare legs find yours, your back to his chest, hair tickling his nose. He waits, letting you make the first move for comfort, feeling you breathe heavily before shuffling against him. Fingers trying to keep your hair out of his way, pulling it, twisting it.

And he remembers sliding his hand under his pillow, pulling it out slowly, the fabric rolling between his thumb and finger before he finds your hand over the sheets. He feels you tense, likely recognising it instantly, slowly taking it from him as you move, turning to face him.

Even in the darkness, he makes out your features. 

His hand reaches up, touching his chin before fingers spread up your cheeks. His thumb rolls over your bottom lip, wanting to kiss you desperately. 

“You found it?” 

He says nothing.

“You kept it?” 

He breathes out. “I did.” 

You must feel his heart hammering. You have to. 

Your body slowly comes down, arms sliding around his chest before hands find themselves on the back of his neck. 

His head turns as you let hug him, as your body says everything without so much as speaking. And all he can think is he’s an inch away from your lips. 

He’s within reach. 

He could. He should. 

“Simon…” you whisper. 

His throat goes dry, and then you kiss him. 

Silencing his mind, silencing everything that doesn’t matter—doubt, worry and the sound of that radio message—as he runs his hands over his T-shirt that covers your body. 

Pulling you close. 

Keeping you close.

I’m with you : read part two