thebigbadbatswife

[thebigbadbatswife]

How to use Em Dash (—) and Semi Colon ( ; )

Since the ai accusations are still being thrown around, here's how i personally like to use these GASP ai telltales. 🦄✨

Em Dashes (—)

To emphasize a shift / action / thought.

They're accusing us—actually accusing us—of using AI.

To add drama.

They dismissed our skills as AI—didn't even think twice, the dimwits—and believed they were onto something.

To insert a sudden thought. Surely they wouldn't do that to us—would they?

To interrupt someone's speech. "Hey, please don't say that. I honed my craft through years of blood and tears—" "Shut up, prompter."

To interrupt someone's thoughts / insert a sudden event.

We're going to get those kudos. We're going to get those reblogs—

A chronically online Steve commented, “it sounds like ai, idk.”

Semi Colons ( ; )

To join two closely related independent sentences / connect ideas.

Not only ChatGPT is capable of correct punctuation; who do you think it learned from in the first place?

Ultimate pro tip: use them whenever the fuck you want. You don't owe anyone your creative process. 🌈

[thebigbadbatswife]

+18, mdni

He stops with a sharp breath, his hands locking around your hips, fingers digging in hard. He’s close—too close—and you can feel it in the way his thighs tense under you, in the way his chest rises unevenly.

"Wait," Simon rasps as his one hand leaves your hip and finds your face, pulling you down until your mouth is on his.

It’s that lazy kind of kiss—lazy and wet, all tongue, just the way you love it. His lips are warm, soft, and parting with a hum when your teeth scrape just a little. He kisses you like he’s trying to catch his breath through you, like if he slows it down, he might not cum right then and there.

Your body doesn’t get the memo.

You're already soaking, but that kind of kiss? That slow, wet drag of his tongue against yours? It makes you clamp down around him so tight he chokes on a moan.

“Fuckin’—love,” he grits out against your mouth, voice rough and cracking. “Stop squeezin’ me—I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

You smile into the kiss, smug and breathless. “Then stop kissing me like that.”

He stares at you for a split second—just one—and then drags you back down, kissing you deeper, messier, like he’s punishing you for talking back.

You keep squeezing.

He bucks once, twice, hips jerking under you like he’s losing the fight. "You fuckin'—ngh—"

You feel it when he gives in.

His head drops back, jaw slack, hands gripping your ass like he’s trying to anchor himself. You ride it out slow, lips still brushing his, feeling him pulse inside you while you grin like a little menace.

“You’re evil,” he mutters, breathless, his eyes half-lidded.

“And you’re terrible at resisting me.”

----------------------------------------

gooood morninggg

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

[thebigbadbatswife]

ok here me out. simon coming too soon. like this man does not have sex often. ah i think it would be hot lowkey

18+ MDNI

Think of football scores

Think of the weather report

Think of last week’s briefing

Think of your first drill sergeant yelling at you

Think of-

He tries to think of anything that’s going to help keep him from blowing his load way too soon

Because you, right now? You’re certainly not helping his case

“Oh my god, that ride felt like it took forever. I didn’t think I was gonna last ‘til we made it home.” You nearly whine as you hurry to get the front door to your flat unlocked

‘That makes two of us’ Simon thinks to himself, remembering the way your wandering hands kept brushing against his thigh during dinner, how your sneaky fingers teased the prominent bulge pressed up against the front of his trousers the entire drive back, how your impatient lips tickled against the vein throbbing in his neck, sending goosebumps across his skin-

No

No, he can’t linger on it for too long, the twitching in his pants nearly painful from how pent up he is, how ready to burst he feels from having been kept apart from you for months, his hand a pitiful replacement for the warm embrace of your arms wrapped around him while your cunt held him even tighter

“Finally.” You exclaim, the door swinging open at your insistence, the both of you stumbling inside like a pair of fools drunk off of nothing more than each other

With a hand between your shoulder blades, Simon is steering you towards the bedroom like a man starved, his hands never straying from your skin

“Get on the bed, love. M’hungry.” His lips murmur against your ear, hopeful that eating you out will give his member the time he needs to pull himself together, for his brain and his cock to sync up and not burst in his pants the moment you touch him

Your own fingers are trying their best to fumble with his belt buckle, though he pulls his hips back out of your reach, bringing a pout to your lips

“Simon, no. I can’t wait anymore, I need you.” You try pleading with him, though you put up no resistance whatsoever as his large hands make their way under your shirt, slipping it over your head with ease

The bra is next to go, being flung across the room without a single care for where it lands, your pants the next item to be discarded on the floor, until you’re left in nothing but your panties and the dog tags he drapes around your neck each and every time he comes home from deployment, the cold metal reading ‘Riley’ sat perfectly between your breasts where he feels it belongs

“S’too bad, I’m cravin’ somethin’ sweet after supper.” He replies casually, the ache in his crotch unbearable as his eyes wander over your nearly naked form, a sight he’ll never grow tired of seeing. “You got somethin’ sweet for me? Hm? Gon’ be nice and gimme a taste?”

“Simon, please.” You insist, though you’re already crawling backwards onto the bed, eyes locked with his as he lowers himself between your parted legs, rough and calloused hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as he drapes one leg over his broad shoulder

“Mmm, you’ll have me love. Trust me. But first, I need you.” He says just as his lips begin trailing their way from your knee, leaving kissing in his wake as he inches his way higher up your thigh, along your hip, on the edge of your panties, grabbing the fabric of the waist band between his teeth before letting it snap back against you

“S-stop teasing.” You manage to let out, though your fingers sliding into his hair, nails scratching slightly at his scalp, lets him know you’re enjoying this as much as he is

Simon can feel himself beginning to leak into his boxers, when he presses a soft kiss against your folds over your panties and your soft gasp of surprise has his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head

He’s missed this, missed you more than he could ever say, every part of you, but this in particular, being able to rile you up as you squirm beneath him, getting all hot and bothered and desperate for him, this he has missed dearly

He would love to keep on teasing you until you’re as worked up as he feels right now, would love to drag this out and make the most of the evening, but he himself can only take so much more of this, his pants feeling impossibly suffocating at the moment, and so he tugs your soaked panties down off of you until their dangling off one ankle, connecting his mouth to where you need him most in a sloppy kiss that is anything but proper

The ache never stops though, not where you start writhing beneath his touch as though you were as sensitive as the head of his cock feels right now, precum staining through his trousers now as he unconsciously starts grinding his hips into the mattress, not when your gasps and moans and whines and pleads are the most beautiful music his damaged ears have ever heard, his own grunts of pleasure mixing into your melody

He should have known, really, that while eating you out might have helped to avoid cumming inside of you after only a few thrusts inside your warmth, he should have known better than to think that he wasn’t going to get as much out of this as you would

For a man as vigilant as he is, he’s hardly aware that it’s about to happen, too focused on helping you reach the peak of your pleasure, too intent on getting you to that place you’re begging him to take you to, whimpering for ‘just a little more, a little more, please Simon, please’, that he fails to realize he’s cumming in his pants until it happens, the force of it taking him by surprise as he groans against your clit, the vibrations just enough to send you careening over the edge into bliss alongside him

He’ll clean himself up later, maybe get you in the shower with him before you notice the wet stain on his front, but until then, he’s going to need some time to recover and get hard again

Luckily, he’s sat at in front of his favourite meal, and the second course is only about to begin

[thebigbadbatswife]

[thebigbadbatswife]

Batman by Dan Mora

[thebigbadbatswife]

"si."

"doll."

"what's this flower called?"

simon looked at the billionth flower you showed in just twenty minutes, sighing. "im a soldier love, not a gardener." though he took the pink colored flower from your hands, and placed it in the small box you brought, just to turn them into a sticker later and put it in your notebook.

"makes sense," you murmured. "though i thought you'd knew since you guys are always on the forests or mountains."

"we don't really have time to search which flower is which doll." he said softly, moving everything that was sharp in front of you, in the small forest you two discovered in your hike. you liked getting lost in nature walks with your husband, who was as useful as a swiss army knife in your eyes.

"shame." you murmured, holding his hand when you felt like you were stumbling. though you liked to be a little dramatic sometimes. as you both continued to hike, and pick flowers, you occasionally liked to touch big tree's. "how fast you can climb this?" you asked curiously, looking up at the big oak tree.

"three minutes, max." he said with a casual confidence that made you remember why you falled for this man. he could do anything, and it was impressing you embaressingly enough.

"wanna test it out?" you asked with a mischief smirk on your face. simon mirrored.

"what do i get in return?"

"a big kiss."

he started climbing that moment, finding bumps to step on or using his big knife to help him climb, going all in for a kiss. you chuckled as he sat on one of the sticks, looking at the time. "two minutes and a half, lieutenant!"

as if it was nothing, he jumped down from that tree, landing on his feet with a loud thud. "my reward." his hands immediatly reached out and you happily hugged his neck, giving him the biggest smooch.

the next time he returns from a deployment, he has a bunch of squished mountain flowers on his gear pocket, a few of them losing their leaves but it mattered to you nonetheless. because he thought the weird and rare flowers would look great on your little notebook, and you felt special that he remembered that while fighting for his life.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Appreciation post for all the beginner artists who work hard despite the AI ​​looming over us. You are fabulous. You are precious. Keep up the hard work, you are needed.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Please do like more bestie simon stuff, where’d he’d do anything and everything for you so discreetly that you don’t even notice, then just casually admits he’s in love like he just told you he got some tea for base. Just like the ”bestie” fix you wrote😋😋

I believe it started with the gloves.

You forget them after training one morning, and it's nothing new; you always forget something, but they’re in your locker before your next session, clean, dry, and folded.

Then it’s the hoodie you left on the range. It shows up two days later, and it's already washed. The same goes for the spare charger you lost, the one that just magically ends up on your bunk with no note. You figure someone’s being nice, but no one says anything. No one takes credit.

Then it’s your boots. You mention that they’re starting to rub, and a week later, they suddenly have your exact size in the model you actually like, even though they’ve been out for months.

It keeps going with little things.

Your favorite protein bars are back in stock. A cracked mug you loved was replaced without a word. Your reports? Suddenly flawless. No red marks, no nitpicks, nothing.

“Do you think I’m, like, haunted?” you ask Soap one night while stretching.

“Haunted,” he repeats. “By what, a ghost?”

“I’m serious. My locker jammed last week—I couldn’t even get it open—and then the next morning it’s fine. Like, not just fixed. Like it was never broken. And my nameplate was polished.”

Soap raises his brows. “You think a ghost did that?”

“I don’t know! I just know I didn’t fix it.”

He snorts. “Oh. That’s not a ghost.”

“…What is it then?”

“Mate. That’s Ghost.”

You stare. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “Saw him after you stormed out of the locker room, all pissed off. Waited till no one was around, pulled out a screwdriver like it was nothing. Fixed the hinge and wiped it down like a bloody maintenance guy.”

You go quiet.

—

You start paying attention after that. Really paying attention.

Simon walks behind you when you’re both in crowds. Waits outside rooms without saying why. Walks with you after meals like it’s a coincidence, even though you know your schedules don’t line up.

He lifts the heavy stuff without being asked. And it’s never a big thing. He does it all like it’s just something that happens.

You try to call him out once.

“You’re like my silent guardian angel or something,” you tease, flopping onto the rec room couch next to him. “All these little favors and no credit?”

Simon doesn’t even look up from the file he’s skimming.

Later that night, you find him up on the roof like always, sitting in his usual spot with two mugs of tea. He passes one to you without a word.

You sit next to him. He waits.

You lean back against the concrete, glancing at him. “So. You’re not denying the angel thing?”

He takes a slow sip and shrugs.

“‘m not your angel.” He pauses before he shrugs again. “Just in love with you, is all.”

You blink. “Come again?”

He completely ignores us as he raises his mug. “Also got your favorite blend. The mess hall ran out, so I got it off Price’s stash.”

“No, no, back up.” You shift to face him fully. “Did you just say you’re in love with me just like that?”

He shrugs. “Thought you knew.”

“How would I know?!”

He looks at you, totally deadpan. “Who else am I doin’ paperwork for?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. “Simon!”

He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m in shock.”

Another sip. “Same thing, really.”

You shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He finally turns toward you, shoulder nudging yours. “So, what now?”

You pretend to think as you sip your tea. “Well. I guess I kiss you. And then maybe I let you keep doing my reports.”

Simon huffs. “So I do get something out of it.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh yeah. All my love and a mountain of paperwork waiting.”

He bumps your shoulder again. “Worth it.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

[thebigbadbatswife]

hi!!! can i ask how simon would react to seeing your forgotten toy out on your bed/nightstand?? 🍓❣️

He didn’t intend to find it, hadn’t meant to snoop, but there it was out in the opening on your night stand:

A small pink dildo.

He stares at it for a few minutes. It can’t be more than five inches, barely half the girth of his cock. He’s not upset, the sight makes his lips twitch in an amused smirk. He gets it; he’s gone for weeks at a time, his pretty bird has to keep your ache at bay when he’s not there to help. It’s funny, you’ve never shown him it, never even mentioned it to him. His pretty bird acts quite innocent, coy and timid when he paws at your ass and chest, but the whole time you’ve got this pink dildo tucked away in your drawers.

You walk through the bedroom door, unaware to the fact that he’s got your secret in the palm of his hand. “Si, the food just arrived.”

You pause when he turns around, eyes widening when you notice the silicone toy. You instantly wear embarrassment on your face; he can practically see the stinging flush rise to your ears as you realize you’ve got caught.

“I- um,” You begin to stutter, rooted to the entryway of the room.

“This your boyfriend when ‘m not ‘ere?” He asks, rolling his tongue on his teeth to hide the wolfish grin he’s struggling to hide.

You squeak, jumping across the room to attempt and slap the toy out of his hands. You aren’t successful, not when he holds the toy above his head.

“You get off with this, huh? Barely half the size of mine, does it even make you feel good?”

You groan, clawing at his bicep, “Simon, shut up! That’s not fair! My fingers aren’t enough when you’re away!”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, chuckling tauntingly when he leans down. “Not mad, sweet’art. Here I thought my bird was innocent.”

You frown, “I am, you made me like this.”

Soon after, he’s got you on your back, knees pressed to your ears as you cry out, pink silicone pressed to the hilt in your sopping cunt. You’re whimpering, trying your best to thrash under his hold, but he’s too strong, just cooing at your attempts. He fucks you with it until you’re overstimulated and malleable, let him move you around as he pleases after orgasming so many times back to back before he slides home. The sensation makes you mewl, finally something warm and solid, thick and suffocating, the real fucking thing you’ve been craving.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Rooftop Remarks

Summary: Simon’s taking a cigarette break on the rooftop of base. Another soldier happens to do the same, without a cigarette.

Warning(s): swearing, military inaccuracies, hint of survivors' guilt, implied suicide attempt(?) Not really, NOT PROOFREAD

Word count: 1.4k

Idk bro i got the sudden urge to write. Might be bad, I don't really know lol. I found comfort in it. Plus I like the idea of Ghost not knowing how to comfort. I'm currently waiting to get my blood drawn.

* This work was created by @unconventional-user, no re-post(s), you may, however, re-blog. Thank you. *

The wind seemed harsh as it screamed.

The oncoming nightfall seemed to ignore the futile cries.

No matter how loud, its message would never be conveyed.

Nonetheless, Ghost would remain on the rooftop of the base. After all, he desperately needed the cigarette.

“...Fuckin’ hell…” he blew the smoke out from his lips, watching as the wind dragged it away. Good. He would be there a while.

It was rare he’d get a break after such a grueling mission, especially one on the cusp of being what the Brit would consider an ‘absolute shit-show’.

Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It was supposed to be a simple recce mission. The ultranationalist group held the location on Makarov. The mission was to scope out and see if there was any potential lead to capture.

It was supposed to be minimal effort.

But when one of the soldiers stepped on a hidden landmine, that’s how the task force discovered they’d been expected by the enemy.

Although the team managed to recover something, it wasn't the amount of details they'd been hoping for.

A couple of lives were taken.

Hell, it wasn’t even in the books that lives would have been lost at all.

Releasing a tired sigh, Ghost lifted the mask up a bit more and took another drag.

However, he quickly pulled it down after hearing the door open.

The sound of scraping boots was an obvious indication. He smacked a certain soldier upside the head this morning because of it: ‘Lift those bloody feet, will ya?’

Without turning, he motioned with his hand to the 20 pack in his hand. Ghost would figure you’d need it.

“I don’t smoke, lieutenant..”

“Neither do I.” Ghost spoke.

“I’m serious…” and yet, you carefully plucked a cigarette from the box. Muttering a small ‘thank you’, you headed towards the ladder to climb back down.

“Oi.” Ghost turned his head back, “You just popped ‘round to nick something from me?”

Well that was unexpected. You shook your head, “No, sir. I just figured you’d want to be alone. So you don’t have to…”

Gesturing to his mask, it seems he understood you.

Ghost didn't care, and called you back with a wave of his arm, “Can’t exactly puff without a lighter. Or were you thinking of finding a bin for it?”

You didn't say anything. He pulled out the lighter and lit the cigarette between your fingers.

“Thank you.”

His silence spoke back. He took notice of the way your eye bags were a bit swollen and wet. Your hair was a bit frazzled, and overall posture was slouched.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the exhaustion on you. Not just physically, but mentally too.

And Ghost knew better than most when to keep his mouth shut. You were here to find solace. No doubt from today’s clusterfuck of a mission.

A moment passed by, and you hadn't even touched the cigarette to your lips. It burned slowly, the smoke acting as an imaginary barrier between both of you.

As Ghost finished his, stubbing it to the ground with his boot, he said nothing as he turned. Ready to head back, he’s had enough peace.

As the door handle was grabbed, your voice interrupted.

“Did you think the mission would be such a disaster?”

Ghost’s grip loosened on the handle. Speaking no words, he simply stayed put.

It was a breathless chuckle that made him turn around.

The grip on your cigarette was sharp. Its red embers burned the fingers tightly around it, albeit the fist remaining clenched.

Releasing a shaking breath, you felt numb. Not even the bubbling sensation of pain in your hand could make you break out of the trance.

The main horror upheld all thoughts at the moment. You had lost people on that mission. Lost friends. Lost brothers, sisters. Yet you're the “lucky” one that made it out survived.

It hadn't hit until everything was over. And now here you are, on the same rooftop your lieutenant also deemed safe to get away from it all.

Now you just need him to go away so you can break down.

Unfortunately, he heard and grudgingly walked back.

He wasn't one to comfort at all. In fact, he’d never be picked to do so. But you were a soldier in need.

Plus, he wasn't a complete arsehole either.

Ghost didn’t even know where to start. Simply standing beside you didn’t feel adequate enough. So he simply did what he did best.

“Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

“..Huh?” Confused, you turned to the lieutenant.

“Scares the shit out of their dogs.”

There was an awkward silence between one another, and it wasn't because of the awkward joke that was made.

It was because he was making an attempt.

An attempt at comfort. Something he typically does not do.

Scratch that. He does not do that at all.

Or maybe Ghost noticed your demeanor and decided to act accordingly.

Regardless, it felt quite peculiar.

Facing him, you said nothing, as he faced the view and tried again.

“What has two legs and bleeds?”

Brows furrowed, you simply shrugged, holding back a smile. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

But he did.

“...I don’t know. What?”

“Half a dog.”

The silence was loud between the two. Yet it was broken by the low sigh you let out.

“Y’know, about that mission earlier,”

Ghost remained quiet.

“It made me realize…or fully realize at least,”

He faced forward again.

“How luck I am to be alive.”

If that didn’t confuse the lieutenant already, the way you stepped forward towards the ledge surely did. He remained vigilant of you nonetheless, making sure you didn't go closer.

“When we got ambushed…” you started, “I was not expecting to step on a landmine.”

What? It was comical the way Ghost’s eyes had opened. So it was you. He wasn't close enough to witness the scene. He’d just been told, ‘We've landed in the killzone!’ and all hell broke loose.

“I was fully expecting to be gone in the blink of an eye. I had accepted my death, it's just a part of the job, right? I was thinking that at least my comrades, my friends would be able to pass the news on to my parents, y’know?”

He said nothing and let you continue on.

“To my suprise, it didn't happen..” Ghost instinctively reached out as you stepped closer to the ledge. His arm is now grabbing your bicep. “I felt someone shove me to the ground.”

Your voice became shaky, you looked down at your feet, not even noticing the grip. Suppressing a sniffle, you refused to break down in front of your superior.

Not that the lieutenant would say anything.

“When I turned around, who would’ve thought…”

You mentioned a last name that rang a bell. It was one of the soldiers he saw the explosion come from and emit chaos. They must’ve pushed you, saved you from death.

Something he will be in their debt for.

“I lost so many people.” So did he.

“I lost so many friends. So many brothers.”

He feels awful for thinking it, but thankfully he did not.

“And the crazy thing is…that I was supposed to die with them,”

Finally being able to breathe properly, you gulped a breath of air as the tears finally fell. The silent sobs were covered by biting your fist.

You felt a squeeze on your forearm, “So, why didn’t I? Why did they save me?”

He felt uncomfortable, but decided to push anyway, “Don't matter why.”

You stared back at him, waiting to see if he would speak again. He didn't. But it’s ok.

Deep down, you knew he meant well, even if he struggled to show it.

Looking down, you noticed his arm still gripping your bicep. You gave him a look, to which he just responded by gesturing toward the ledge. “Step back.”

In doing so, he pulled out his pack again.

This time, you took another cigarette with the intention of smoking it.

Let me know honest thoughts and feedback, I got tired so i ended it abruptly lol.

[thebigbadbatswife]

fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.

fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”

[thebigbadbatswife]

Part 2 of our boy Simon yearning for you.

The ache never eased. It just deepened, settled somewhere behind his ribs and made a home there, like a wound he couldn’t stop picking at. Days turned into nights, and nights into days, and every moment he wasn’t hearing your voice or reading your texts was a slow torture.

It wasn’t just the casual meetups, the flirty messages, or the teasing that made his pulse race. It was the way you’d brush his arm when you were laughing, the way you’d lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way you’d say his name—not “Riley” like before, but “Simon.”

It killed him. It absolutely destroyed him.

He wanted to be better than this, to be cooler, to be calm, but he wasn’t. He was coming undone at the seams, unraveling every time you were near and aching when you were gone.

He’d find himself waking in the middle of the night, breathing hard, reaching for his phone to check if you’d messaged, to see if you’d thought of him in the quiet hours when the world was asleep. And when you hadn’t, he’d drop the phone on the pillow next to him and close his eyes, trying to swallow the bitterness that rose in his throat.

Sometimes he’d dream of you, and wake up with your name on his lips, the sheets tangled around his legs, his skin burning. He’d lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he could take this. How much longer could he pretend he was fine, pretend he was just your friend, when every cell in his body screamed for more?

He started pulling away, just a little. Shorter replies. Fewer emojis. He’d leave your messages on read for a little too long, trying to convince himself that if he created a little space, the longing might ease. But it didn’t.

You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious. One night, after another one of those meetups where he’d smiled too tightly and laughed a little too late, you caught him outside the pub. The cold bit at his skin, but the look in your eyes made him feel like he was on fire.

“Simon,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, as he looked away.

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been... distant. Did I do something?”

God, you sounded worried, and that just made it worse. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to think you’d done anything wrong. It was all him. All his fault.

“No,” he said roughly, running a hand over his face. “You didn’t do anything. I just... I’m trying to get my head straight.”

Your brows drew together, and you stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you through the cold air. “Simon, you can talk to me.”

And for a moment, he almost did. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, thick and heavy—I miss you so much it hurts. I think about you all the damn time. I can’t stand being near you because I’m falling apart inside.

But he couldn’t. Because if he said it, if he let it all spill out, he didn’t know what you’d do. Didn’t know if you’d pull away, if you’d laugh it off, or if you’d tell him you didn’t feel the same.

So he just gave you a smile and said, “I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

And he left you there on the sidewalk, staring after him, while his heart cracked open in his chest...

It was unbearable.

Days passed. He told himself he was getting better at pretending, that if he ignored the ache long enough, it would go away, and that if he kept his distance from you, he’d get over this.

But of course, it didn’t work.

Every time he saw your name flash on his screen, his chest would tighten. Every time you laughed, it was like a fist closing around his throat. Every time you touched him, even casually, even just a brush of fingers as you passed him a drink or steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, he felt like his skin was going to tear open.

And then, one night, it was just too much.

You’d sent him a message—something stupid, really. A picture of your dinner with a comment like “Guess who forgot to buy pasta sauce? 😂” And he’d stared at it, thumb hovering over his screen, the ache in his chest unbearable.

He couldn’t do this anymore. So he called you.

You picked up on the second ring, your voice warm and a little breathless. “Hey, Simon. Everything okay?”

“No.” His voice was rough. “No, it’s not.”

There was a pause, a soft intake of breath on your end. “What’s wrong?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing his living room, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his skull. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t pretend everything’s fine. I can’t keep acting like I’m just your friend. I can’t... I can’t stand being near you and not—”

“Not what?” you whispered.

“Not have you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long it’s driving me insane. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

“Simon,” you said softly, “why didn’t you say anything before?”

He let out a sharp, broken laugh, a sound like something cracking apart. “Because I was scared. Because I didn’t know if you felt the same. Because I thought maybe you’d laugh it off, or tell me I was reading too much into things. Because... because it’s you.”

You were quiet for a beat, then said, “Come over.”

“What?”

“Come over,” you repeated. “Right now.”

He didn’t even think, didn’t hesitate. He was out the door before he realized he hadn’t grabbed his keys.

The drive to your place was a blur, the streets smearing past in streaks of light and shadow. He didn’t remember turning off the engine or locking the door. He only remembered the way his hands trembled as he knocked, the way his breath caught when you opened the door, standing there barefoot in leggings and an old sweatshirt, your hair a little messy like you’d been running your hands through it.

“Hi,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped past you, and the second the door clicked shut behind him, it was like a dam breaking.

“I tried,” he said, his voice rough, breathless. “I tried so fucking hard to stay away. To act like I didn’t care. To tell myself this was enough. But it’s not. It’s not enough. I need you. I need to know you’re mine, that I can touch you, kiss you, be with you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You surged forward, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down into a kiss so hard and desperate it made his head spin. He stumbled back a step, hands coming up to cradle your face, your jaw, your hair. You were warm and soft and real, and he felt himself falling, falling so fast it was like the world was tilting beneath him.

“Simon,” you gasped against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ve wanted this too. I was just... waiting for you to say something.”

A broken, breathless laugh escaped him, his forehead pressed to yours. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling, your lips brushing his.

He kissed you again, slower this time, pouring everything he’d been holding back into it—all the longing, all the frustration, all the desperation that had been eating him alive for months. His hands roamed, memorizing the curve of your hips, the softness of your waist, and the line of your spine. You were here, you were his, and for the first time in so long, he felt whole.

“Stay,” you whispered, lips against his throat. “Don’t go home tonight.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, and when he kissed you again, it wasn’t desperate—it was everything he’d been aching for.

---------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

[thebigbadbatswife]

“You having fun there, Si?”

“‘Course.”

“‘Cause you look like you’re having a lot of fun right now.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” He snaps at you without thinking, immediately catching himself with a shake of the head when he spots your raised brow. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone. But Simon we’re safe here, I promise you.” You attempt to reassure him, still intent on making the most out of this trip together

One year

365 days

An entire trip around the sun since the day you and Simon met for the first time

And not a day has gone by since without each of you holding the other’s heart in the palm of your hands

Though Simon would do quite literally anything for you, he’d been less than impressed when you’d dropped the boarding passes in his hand last night

You’d been reminiscing to him about the holidays you used to take each summer with your family while growing up, memories of building sand castles and burying siblings until only their heads were visible, visions of waves lapping at your toes and seashells in your hands, images of melting ice creams cones and chasing pesky seagulls until the sun set

Memories that Simon could not relate to, could only smile and nod along as you told him about missing a time when you could be so care free

“Wonder what tha’ was like.” He’d said offhandedly to you that night as you both stood at the kitchen sink, his large hands passing off the clean dishes for you to dry

The idea of Simon having never enjoyed a family holiday when he was young made your heart ache, but thinking about Simon never having had a holiday, never having had a chance to slow down and relax, to enjoy himself for once in his life, well that left a foul taste in your mouth that you were determined to change

You’d had to pull some strings, even go so far as sneaking behind his back to arrange the time off with his Captain, who’d agreed wholeheartedly with you that his Lieutenant was in need of a holiday but who’d laughed when he bid you good luck in telling Simon as much

The suitcases were secretly packed while he worked, the plane tickets purchased as he slept, the secluded beach house with private access to the water booked while he was busy with making dinner one evening, your plan coming to fruition while your lover was none the wiser

As excited as you were, his reaction had been just about what you’d expected

Grumbling about how it was unnecessary, too risky, too dangerous, he’d wanted to reject the idea entirely from the get go, to flat out say no, though deep down he knew he could never truly tell you no

That was how Simon found himself on a beautiful, private beach, miles away from any military base, without another soul in sight apart from the one linked to his own, all while he tried his best to continue sulking in the sun

“Can’t know tha’ for sure, love.”

“Simon, this place had the best rating I could find, promises to be totally private. It isn’t peak tourist season, we’re far out from the city. Plus we literally used fake names on everything, I think we’re going to be fine.” You tried to rationalize, though knowing his past and how preoccupied his mind could become, you knew you were essentially speaking to a brick wall at the moment

“Anythin’ could happen, can’t account for everythin’.” He argued, adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he scanned the surroundings yet again, not enjoying how exposed he felt out here clad in nothing more than the swim shorts and sunscreen you’d packed for him

“You’re right, anything could happen.” You agreed with a shrug, dropping the last of the beach gear onto the sand, reaching for the bottom of your sundress. “But I can tell you what’s going to happen right now. I’m going to go swim in the water, because I want to, and because I can. You can join me, or you can sit here and mope, but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind. And because it’s our anniversary and because I love you, I won’t even say I told you so.”

He’s just about to tell you that that’s far from likely, that he’s certain he’ll be staying under the shade of the umbrella he’s about to stick in the sand, that he’ll be the smart one here and keep look out for the danger he’s decided is certain to happen, when you stop any logical thought of his in its tracks, as you lift up your arms and peel off your dress, revealing the bathing suit you’re wearing underneath

He’s seen you naked before hundreds if not thousands of time at this point, seen your body form every angle imaginable and more, had you in every way he could ever dream of

So why is the sight of your swaying hips walking away from him the most enticing thing he thinks he’s ever seen? The view of your ass in the skin tight material of your bathing suit the first thing to really give him pause?

No

No, he’s not going to let himself fall for that, he’s not going to cave so easily, not when you’re both in a new place like this, so exposed-

All the fight is nearly drained out of him, when he sees your arms reach up behind your back, your head angling enough to meet his eyes just as your steady fingers untie the strings that hold your top in place, letting the material fall to your feet as you continue making your way towards the shore, a quick wink sent his way before you’re turning your focus to the waves

He gulps loudly, not that he can hear it over the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his damaged ears

He tells himself he’s not going to fall for this, though his grip on the cooler full of drinks is rapidly slipping

Tells himself he’s only just going to pick up your bathing suit top off the ground for you, when his legs decide for themselves to start following you in your wake

He tells himself that he can keep his cool, surely you’ll be quick, that when you emerge from the water, wet droplets rolling off your naked, sun kissed skin, that he can satisfy himself by offering to reapply your sunblock, that the image he’s just conjured up of getting his hands on you soon will be enough to tide him over

But then, of course, you go ahead and slide your hands down the side of your waist, reaching lower until your fingers slipped under the fabric of your bottoms, pushing further and further down until the material is pooled around your ankles, leaving them behind for your ghost to pick up

Fuckin’ hell, he really had said anything could happen, hadn’t he?

Simon’s following you into the water before he fully realizes he’s stepped in, knowing that he’d follow you anywhere at the end of the day

One year down with you

A lifetime to go

[thebigbadbatswife]

[thebigbadbatswife]

giving Ghost noses boops and butterfly kisses when he’s wearing his mask 💔🥺

[thebigbadbatswife]

Catwoman Propaganda I’m not falling for:

Gotham City Sirens

“No motherly instincts” and “doesn’t want kids”

“Non-committal” or “Hates commitment”

Crime boss daughter of Rex Calabrese

Abusive Maria Kyle

“Barely trained” or “Just a street fighter”

[thebigbadbatswife]