eviesaurusrex

[eviesaurusrex]

hello. hello. Hi . THE TALKING STAGE AND DATING SIMON??? AND THE QUOTE . you absolutely KILLE D ME. but what are your thots on when he’d feel like Alright. she’s the One . and how uncertain he might be if “do you think she’ll say yes?” or how long would it take for him to propose or even THINK about it…. LOOOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR WORK AS USUAL reading your new posts like the morning paper 🙈🙈

HI HELLO MY LOVE IVEMISSED YOU!!! omg….. i’m glad you liked them!!! :3 they were both so fun to think about hehe esp the talking stage he is so silly… so coldand warm.. then the dating!!! he is so…<3 YOU ARE SO SWEET HELLO!!! thank you i am so happy you enjoy my work i’m sobbing in my little corner… As for simon thinking about marriage…!!! he is going through it!

i think he probably would’ve thought about it before you two actually started officially dating…

simon riley getting back into the dating scene? talking to you? he’s picturing it all already. he’s a planner, he doesn’t half-ass it! all the times he spent staring at you in silence before? yeah, he was thinking about it. is she the one? will she take me as her husband? all of those thoughts rush through his head…

his mind finally clears up when you take his face in your hands and tell him straight-up that, yeah, you are interested in him and you want something more. then, simon just goes: yeah… she’s the one.

it’s not that he needs reassurance often… okay, maybe he does. he needs to know that you’ll love this used soldier, that you aren’t going to be disgusted when he tells you about what’s happened to him or what he’s done, and that you love him.

he’s a confident guy; he’ll show off. he gets cocky. he does knife tricks that make you whine his name in fear (he’ll only stop when he’s satisfied), he flexes his arm when you’re holding it in public just to get you to giggle, he cracks those dry jokes that you just have to fight back a laugh at because he’s got this ridiculous look on his face (he is expecting you to laugh your ass off, but he’ll snort anyway if you don’t), and he knows to some extent that he can be charming.

simon riley is undoubtedly a man of action! i honestly can’t imagine him dragging the proposal out, at least not for his sake, but for yours…

this guy gets all nervous when he thinks about if you actually like him enough to marry him. you keep looking at him so fondly and it gets waves of steam rolling off his entire body if he notices you looking too long. yeah, he knows he’s handsome, but do you have to burn holes through him with your eyes?

he thinks about it when he can. that’s often.

he catches a glimpse of your hand? he imagines a nice wedding ring on it. he holds your hand? even better, his fingers try to measure to diameter of your ring finger so he can estimate a ring size. later, he’ll be stretching his fingers out and trying to remember. it dominates his mind, the thought of binding his life with yours.

you’re basically a married couple without the papers… without living together… he thinks about that too. he already has evidence of your existence scattered around his space; your toothbrush sits in the same cup, your towel hangs next to his, and your mug dries on the same rack.

at your place, he has his own drawer for clothes (though, you wear them as well), his shampoo stands next to yours (when you miss him too much, you use it just to smell like him), and you keep the sticky notes plastered along your fridge or bathroom mirror that he’s left behind when he had to leave early.

they’re probably months old, but they’re old reminders to eat what he made in the fridge or on the stovetop, reminders that he took your car to the shop to get your oil changed.

he doesn’t ask for the reassurance, but you do seem to take notice of it. or maybe it’s just in your nature. you don’t bring it up directly, but you play around the subject, not wanting to seem too clingy or needy. but you do try to indirectly tell him that, of course you’d want to marry him. simon is almost the same, mind racing endlessly about if you would still marry him under all these circumstances.

like, will you still marry him even if he has no one to invite except for the guys in his unit? even if he might have to leave on life-threatening deployments until a bullet takes him or if retirement conditions catch up to him?

he’s got the ring. he’s had it for a while now. it’s stowed away in his drawer, and sometimes on his person when he’s out with you. that’s why he makes you stand on one specific side, you might feel the small box in his other pocket!

i can’t really think of a time frame, but it’d happen in two ways, i think…

the first way: under intimate moments. he catches that look in your eye again, the one that just looks misty and infatuated. then, he can’t even stop the words from falling out his mouth.

“wanna marry you. spend the rest of my life with you.”

they’re a whisper, like he’s praying desperately to a god.

the second way? casual. he gets tired of himself. gets tired of overthinking. you don’t even have to be doing anything special, you can be shopping. you can be taking a walk with him, and he’ll genuinely pop the question out of nowhere. though his tone gets soft, his words are definite. decided.

“will you marry me?”

[eviesaurusrex]

kiss it, kiss it better, baby

☆ ghost is insecure with the way he looks, but you’re there to help him realize he’s pretty ☆

pairing is with fem!reader

-

first thing you had learned about simon is how much of a closed off person he is. to the point where he shuts almost everyone out except his colleagues.

so when he first met you, he had no expectations whatsoever. sure, he thought you were breathtaking. ethereal even. the first thought when he saw you walked into the room for the first time is ‘how could God let His prettiest angel roam around free on earth? why had he not have any desire to protect you?’

your aura and smile is enough to make his knees wobbly. the sound of your laugh makes his lips twitch into a genuine smile. almost.

and he’s trying to figure out why your presence is making him turn into a puddle.

but he’s been there before. manipulated by soft and delicate looking people only for them to be a complete different person once he gets a little too attached. that reason alone was enough for him to protect his heart even more. despite your affection and your warm nature, he was still cold. harsh even.

and you understand completely. fully taking your time in getting to know him, being patient and soft, because a person could only handle so much given to his story. you heard from soap about how much he had to endured and your heart was torn.

‘poor lad… went through a lot’

is what soap had said.

so you made it your mission to make him feel at ease. become his person. his home. moving slowly but surely. this made simon baffled by your actions. why do you still hang around? why do you keep giving him affections? why can’t you just go and find someone who’s not bottling too much of emotions and trauma?

answer is simple. you love him.

and boy, was he shocked. in a good way. because it has been far too long someone had said that word to him. and not just say it but you actually prove it.

in time, simon begins to learn how to properly love again. he learns how to be someone’s someone. he yearns for you now. opening up a bit more about his past and he can’t forget the way you clutch his hands tightly around yours as he spoke. a simple act to remind him that it’s just you and him and no one else.

there’s only one thing he has been afraid of.

unmasking.

the thin scars decorating his face is one of the things he has always been so insecure about. and he’s scared that you might think of him differently after seeing. in your own opinion, he’s stupid to think that — will all due respect— encourage him day after day that you wouldn’t think so, still he doesn’t budge.

despite you being impatient on wanting to see his handsome features, you never push him. you would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. you adore him too much to do that.

“so i said to her… ” you emerge from the bathroom while brushing through your hair, eyes focusing on your long locks. “ ‘bitch, please you are looking at the owner’ and i kid you not… she went pale as shit” you chuckle as you tell him a about what happened at work

he hums, pretending to listen. the only thing that matters to him is how beautiful you look tonight. the way your fingers running softly through your hair, your glowing skin, your cute giggle and fuck,

how your night gown leaves little to no imagination,

“and then i took my G19 and shot her in the head”

“that’s good, baby” ghost mutters lowly, his eyes falls down to your exposed thighs. his train of thoughts were interrupted by you throwing a pillow at his direction.

“ow! hey!”

“you aren’t even listening!” a grunt of protest falls from your lips, arms crossed over your chest. “i was telling you about my day!”

he puts his hands up in defense. playful smirk across his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so good standing there in your night gown, love…”

putting down your brush on the bedside table, you roll your eyes. though you can’t help but smile.

“that good, huh?” pulling the covers next to him before slipping inside. “i look that good to you?”

his large hand moves to palm your thigh. “more than good. you look absolutely divine”

your smile grows, and you can feel him smile too underneath the mask. both of your eyes locked for a while before you sit up a little bit and pat your chest.

“wanna lay?”

ghost quickly nods with a grin, scooting closer towards you before carefully laying his head. his fingers tap your leg, signaling you to put it over his thigh, you oblige.

a sigh of contentment escape from his lips once your press a kiss on top of his masked forehead. gentle fingers tracing lightly against his traps.

a question bubbles into your mind. a question you have been dreading to ask. tongue clicking against your teeth as you contemplate.

“what’s on your mind, beautiful?”

it’s like he could read your mind. you can never escape him.

shrugging you reply, “just wondering”

“wondering what?”

you inhale a sharp breath. “about when i can see this handsome face of yours.”

a smile on ghost’s face falters a bit. he knows you have been waiting for him to unmask. it has been months since you begin your journey together, and he knows that you have waited too long to see him. it isn’t fair to you, he knows that.

but again, he doesn’t want you to think differently of him.

“hm?” you place another kiss on his head when he’s not answering. “am i getting closer to getting the privilege to see that handsome face?”

the question is playful, though ghost could feel his heart beating far too loud. he believes every word you say to him, because he knows you would never lie to his face. except this one particular thing

“ ‘m not, lovie” he squeezes your thigh, fingertips grazing your soft skin.

you gasp, moving your head back a bit to the side so you can see him. “and who told you that, huh? soap? gaz?”

he’s quick to shake his head. “no one has ever seen me. i just know that i am”

“baby, that’s bullshit and you know it” you argue, bringing your other hand to rub his cheek with your thumb.

a silence falls between you two. he doesn’t know what else to response to that. it has been too long since he lets anyone see how he really looks like.

he moves his head closer to your chest, pressing his cheek against it to listen to your heartbeat better. “i just don’t want you to regret being with me, tha’s all”

if a heart could break, yours would in that moment. for all the times you’ve spent together with him, ghost is not the person that would showcase his vulnerability nor emotions. he’s tough. cold. stoic. he’d rather die than to do that.

but something in the way he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard from him before just makes you want to protect him even more. the insecurity laced in his tone is enough to do so.

“do you trust me?” your voice is gentle as ever, seeing him nod slowly. “then you know i would never do anything to make you feel small, yeah?”

he snakes his arm around your waist, nodding again. “yes”

your eyes casting down to him. “can i see my pretty baby, then?”

he feels his cheeks warm at the compliment, swallowing a small gulp as he tightens his grip a little.

simon is quiet for a moment, making you almost feel guilty for pushing him a bit. but you can’t help it. you want to see him.

you want to see your man.

and as you’re about to apologize, he speaks up,

“okay.”

a wide grin slowly makes an appearance on your face, “yeah?” he nods slowly, looking up to you with a soft smile.

“yeah” his voice is low. husky. “i trust you.”

“you do” you confirm, fingers moving gently to the bottom of his mask. for a moment you stop to see any sign of him fighting back or fidgeting. but he gives you nod, telling you to continue

with a smile, you tuck both of your thumbs underneath his balaclava. slowly you remove the material up to his nose, familiar soft pink lips that has been brushing against yours for the past few months appears. you stop for a moment and let your finger thread lightly on it, goosebumps rises against his skin as he feels you getting closer to fully unfold him.

the beat of both of your hearts are thumping. one part, you’re excited and the other he’s anxious. anxious that you’re not going to like it.

he closes his eyes the moment you completely remove the balaclava from him. hearing a gasp falls from you is making his nerves go up even higher.

‘please don’t leave me, please… please don’t’ he thinks

“simon you—you are so. fucking beautiful’

the moment he hears those words, his eyes snap open. seeing your wide eyed gaze travel from his forehead and down to his chin. both of your hands move to cup his face with jaw slightly wide open. no words are uttered.

you are truly speechless. taking the time to observe every single detail of his features. from his dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, sharp nose, thin scars around his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. you believe those things compliment his entire face.

he is absolutely handsome.

“my god” your voice comes out in a whisper, his breath hitches. hand still gripping tightly around your waist. “you’ve been hiding all these from me?”

a hearty chuckle rumbles from his chest, avoiding your eyes because he fears that you might see him blush.

“you don’t have to lie to me love, i—“

“fuck i ain’t!” you exclaim with a laugh, head shaking at his response. “simon you don’t realize how handsome you are, do you? and these?” finger pointing at the faded scar,

“prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

he cocks both of his eyebrows, eyes glinting full of hope. “you think so?”

“i know so, my darling.” plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “gorgeous.” one on his eyelid. “my pretty man.” one on his cheekbone. “my baby” last one on the scar.

he pulls your body closer to him, melting at the feeling of your lips all over his face. “‘m not” he mutters

“definitely are. my handsome man” you argue, ruffling his hair. wide smile spreads across your lips as you watch your handsome man hides his face in between your breasts. “are you my pretty baby? hm?” you coo in a soft tone, not stopping to pepper him with kisses and praises.

he becomes shy, because he’s not used to this. choosing to find comfort in your chest yet he can’t help to admit how much he enjoys the affection. you feel him smile against your chest, and he’s hiding it but you can definitely sense him blushing too.

god, you love this sight. your hardcore, stone cold, military boyfriend becoming putty in your embrace. one you truly never thought you would see, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.

he does too. perhaps even more than you enjoying yourself

“me, me me. I’m your baby.” he mutters softly, eyes fluttering shut

-

i love babying a man, arrest me

[eviesaurusrex]

Hey, remember how Natasha Romanoff was the only one that knew about Clint Barton having a family, and his kids calling her Auntie Nat because she is such an important figure in their life?

Yeah, it's like that, but with Ghost and Soap.

Johnny having a whole ass family at home: wife, two kids, a dog. No one except Ghost knows, until Soap gets into a life threatening accident at work.

Kyle and Price are sitting in the waiting room, still in full gear. Hoping for good news, praying that he will be okay and recover from his surgeries, when Ghost gets a call on his private phone.

"Yes, it's me... I know, I'm so sorry, luv. Yeah. He'll be alright. Nothing can break that thick skull, eh? Right. Tell the little ones Uncle Simon is keeping watch over their daddy, okay? I'll call you back as soon as I know more."

Ghost hangs up like nothing happened, eyes forward and focused on the hospital door when Kyle explodes.

"Who was that?" He practically screeches, nudging Price in alarm. "Did you hear? Uncle Simon? Daddy?"

Ghost raises an eyebrow behind his mask, not that it shows, and throws Kyle a glance. Price is clutching his hat in both hands, wide-eyed, knuckles white and composure slipping for once.

"You didn't know? I'm the godfather of Johnny's kids. His wife is in the same book club as my girlfriend."

[eviesaurusrex]

Just Like Dad (1 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, brief mention of pregnancy, canon-typical swearing, Simon is a girl dad

Word Count: 890

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Filling out a parent questionnaire leads to Simon having to answer a hard question.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad

“Daddy.”

 A small fist curls around the bottom of Simon’s shirt, tugging. He glances down, finding his daughter there holding out a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Simon takes it from her, his gaze shifting to the black ink.

“It’s for school.”

It’s a questionnaire. Simons scans over the questions quickly before returning his gaze to his daughter. “Give me a second, love.”

Simon packs up the files he brought home from work. Grabbing a pencil, he strolls out to the living room, his daughter on his heels. Simon takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, placing the paper and pencil on the coffee table. His daughter snags a pillow off the couch, dropping it on the floor next to his legs. Sitting, she stares at him expectantly.

Simon nods toward the paper. “You need to practice your letters.”

She groans. “But it’s about you!”

Simon slowly slides the paper and pencil over to her. She pouts but takes up the pencil, the graphite tip poised above the first line.

“Name,” she says, glancing up at him.

“You know my name.”

She squints at him and looks back at the paper, taking her time to write each letter. She holds it up and Simon smiles. It’s stilted and a bit sideways, but it’s there. She asks several more questions like favorite food and color. Simon doesn’t understand the point to it but they’re likely doing a project on a parent.

“Job,” she says, expectant.

Job. His occupation. That’s a fucking complicated question.

“Military,” he answers.

She frowns. “How do you spell that?”

“Sound it out.”

She does so slowly, elongating each letter as she writes.

Simon glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “That’s an ‘i,’ darling.” He points and she aggressively erases her mistake.

When she finishes, she looks up at him. “Explain.”

Explain. Explain.

Explain…what?

That he kills people? That he negotiates the release of hostages? That he faces violence every day he’s on the job? That he sees some of the worst in people?

How the bloody hell does he explain all that to a six-year-old girl? How does he summarize the violence into a watered-down version that’s digestible enough for her, her teacher, the other students, and her school.

Simon swallows. “I stop bad people from doing bad things.”

She blinks. “Do I have to write all that?”

Simon barks a laugh. “It’s one sentence.”

She silently mimics him, shaking her little body in annoyance as she begins to write. Simon has no idea where the attitude comes from, but it’s likely from Johnny.

“Next question,” prompts Simon once the sentence is written down.

She hesitates and then turns in his direction. “Can I be like you when I grow up?”

Could she? Yes. But the very idea of her in the line of danger frightens him. It twists his stomach, knowing all the things that could befall her if she were to follow in his footsteps. Simon’s gut-instinct is to tell her “No.”

“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re strong. I want to be strong like you.”

“You don’t need to do what I do to be strong.”

“Uh, no,” she says, matter-of-fact, peering at the next question.

Fucking hell, she’s going to be an absolute hellion when she hits puberty. Sighing, Simon rubs at his temple. For some reason, he glances away from his daughter, his gaze landing on you in the hallway. With your hand cradling your slightly swollen belly, you watch on with an amused expression.

Number two. Will this one be like her? Wanting to do what he does?

“Daddy.”

Simon turns back to his daughter. She points at the paper with the tip of her pencil, head tilted slightly to the side.

He leans forward. “What’s the next question?”

“What does your day look like?” She grins up at him, ready for his answer.

Simon hears your soft laugh from the hall, and then your footsteps across the carpet. Your hand reaches out to cradle the back of Simon’s neck. On instinct, he lifts his arm, resting his hand on the small of your back.

“Go on, Simon. Tell her,” you tease, knowing that he’s struggling to form an answer.

“Do you put your mask on first?” The question is innocent but Simon laughs anyway.

“No,” he chuckles, gently taking the paper and pencil from her. “I kiss your mother first.”

Simon drags you in for a kiss.

“Ugh. Gross.” She makes a face, tiny nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Still want my job?” Simon presents the paper and she snatches up in her little fist.

“No thanks,” she sing-songs, stuffing the paper in her backpack, crinkling it up.

You hide your grin in Simon’s shoulder, and Simon tugs you closer. “Good save,” you murmur.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head. “She has one of my masks.”

“I know,” you giggle. “Found it under her pillow this morning. I put it in your bag.”

“Was it covered in your makeup this time?”

“Had to wash it.”

Simon shakes his head in exasperation. He’s not annoyed. Just perplexed. He doesn’t understand why his daughter wants to be just like him.

It’s because she doesn’t know.

No. She doesn’t know. But one day she will. She might even change her mind.

taglist:

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[eviesaurusrex]

seeing you go absolutely feral for simon is very amusing hehe

just imagine cuddling up with simon watching your favorite movie or show and he’s rubbing your arms absentmindedly but the feeling is so grounding. you’re reminded that he’s here. with you. safe and sound. you’re pulled out of your thoughts when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers “i missed this. i missed you. there’s no place i’d rather be than wherever you are.”

i’ve have business to attend so i must sleep now but enjoy a little taste of my imagination mwah <3 (ps manifesting this for you bby ;) )

MIC hi oh my god i am answering this so late i apologize but thank u oh i love u SO MUCH u spoil me with these amazing ideas… my little simon post.. i need to be in his arms RIGHT NOW!!!!!! The manifestation note???33 Who will hold and kiss me like that……

you can barely keep your eyes open when he’s beside you, rubbing your your arms like this. relaxation creeps into your mind, sending you into a tired state from the way his hand soothes your skin, ridding you of all the aches and stress.

there’s a show playing, the one that you had waited to watch with him. but, you’re so comfortable and cozy that you can’t even pay attention to it.

he's speaking to you; his voice is light on your ears and you're much too tired to make his words out. as you start to doze off, you feel a pressure on your head. his lips softly pressing a kiss on you.

"love."

his voice travels smoothly right into your ears, and it makes you smile. it's no longer muffled through the phone line, no longer crackly with frequent cutouts, no longer distant.

“hm?”

you move your head to look at him, met with his warm smile. it feels like your heart could burst right now, gratitude and joy that simon’s back with you in the safe confines of your home, and the only thing holding you together from attacking him with kisses and hugs is your fatigue.

“missed this.” he cranes his neck to press another kiss on your head, holding his lips there to breathe you in. “i missed you. no place i’d rather be than wherever you are.”

there’s a pang in your chest, his words starting to make your eyes feel wet. you shake your head with a mutter.

“simon, stop. you’re gonna make me cry.”

he chuckles, his hand coming to hold your face to angle it upwards. he kisses you on the cheek, his lips gentle. every time simon touches you, you feel reinvented. every time he kisses you, you feel your heart twist around, vessels forming the letters of his name.

“cryin’?” he coos, a quiet but hearty laugh trailing his words. you shake your head, sinking into his touch.

“no.”

“i’d be a bad man to make you cry, love.”

“you’re a bad man for making me have to miss you, simon.”

that prompts him to softly squeeze your cheeks together with one hand, making you look like a fish. he smirks, kissing your lips once before he lays down on the couch with you, putting his arm under your neck and pushing your head onto his chest.

“yeah, i missed you too, love.” he repeats with a chuckle.

you’ll love someone so much to the point where they begin to embody home.

and for you, that’s simon. the feeling of his body against yours - whether it be sexual or non-sexual, the sound of his voice, the way he exists with you, and the way he loves you. the way you love each other.

you sigh, the sound of his heartbeat going into your cheek. his hand is moving on your arm, caressing it with light touches. it’s with you that simon’s gentle. it’s with you that he feels that he’s not so much of a broken man trying to withhold the weight of the world alone.

“i missed you.” you mumble, your palm pressed flat against his stomach and roving on his chest. the vibration of his low chuckle makes your head shake slightly, and he cradles your head. for the third time tonight, simon reiterates his feelings.

“i missed you too.”

he’ll tell you many more times tonight.

[eviesaurusrex]

JENNIFER COOLIDGE Wins Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama Series for The White Lotus | 75th Primetime Emmy Awards

[eviesaurusrex]

three words: girl dad simon

when his first daughter was just a toddler, she used to scream the house down whenever mama tried to style her hair. hated wearing her hair up in a ponytail, hated wearing cute little bows. so, simon sits between his pregnant wife’s legs, letting her pop his shaggy blonde mop into two little ponytails. and it just makes his daughter SQUEAL with joy, she wants to look just like her dada!! a lot of the dads shoot him funny looks when he drops his kiddo off to nursery later on in the day, but truth be told most of the moms fancy him even more than usual.

when his girls get older, around 7-8 years old, they become OBSESSED with play makeup. mom’s in her office on an important work call, and there’s only so many times the girls can practise their skills on the plastic barbie head they got for christmas. it actually terrifies his wife when he knocks on her office door, head poking through a small gap to say “dinner’s ready, luv.”

and she has to do a double take because?? he looks like he’s a fugitive of cirque su soleil, patchy n chalky neon colours around his eyes, bright pink lips. “what?” he huffs out, a smirk tugging at his stripper-esque overlined lips. “testin’ out a new look for the field. good for hostage negotiatin’, innit?”

and when they hit teenagehood, his love still doesn’t end there for his girls. their first heartbreaks? he has to be reminded that, no, he can’t drive over and beat the shit out of the squeaky voiced boys that broke their hearts, so he resorts to other means. it’s a movie night, cheesy teen rom-coms playing in the living room, ordering some good grub— he even lets them put on a mud face pack on him, maybe even let them paint his nails funky colours.

because he’s a girl dad, and if that makes his baby girls smile, he’ll do that and more for them.

[eviesaurusrex]

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions

╰﹒ the reader gets hurt on a mission-gone-south, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is not having it.

content/warnings: mentions of blood and injuries; slight arguing and ghost being a bit of a meanie—all for a good reason; hurt/comfort; gn!reader; wc 1.8k

a/n: thank you so, so incredibly much for the love and support for my previous story! I was nervous to post it, so the warm welcome meant the world to me. I hope you enjoy this one too. ♡

“Take off your vest and jacket.”

Had it been under any other circumstances, the sheer dominance in Ghost’s voice would have left you weak in the knees. It would have made your breathing catch in your throat, and your head spin: your forehead to glisten with sweat, and your teeth to close around your bottom lip.

You did all the things listed above, but it wasn't because of the depth of his voice. Right now, as you cursed under your breath, your panting, sweating, and cursing were brought on not by Ghost, but by the excruciating pain on your shoulder.

“Sarge, take off your fucking jacket.”

He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor of the dim shack, his fingers fumbling for his med kit. For nearly a year you had known the man, yet not once had you seen his hands shaking.

Not until now.

“For fuck’s sake, sergeant. Do not make me pull fucking rank here. Jacket off, and sit your ass on the fucking couch.”

Like from a snap of a band, you seemed to stumble back into reality. Your senses sharpening, you rushed into action—shaky curses passing your lips, as your fingers worked on your buckles and zippers.

Jesus fuck, did it hurt, yet suddenly—for a fleeting moment—you nearly forgot all about your pain.

Because on your jacket, you only saw one hole.

A single hole.

“Ghost?” 

“Sit down, sarge.”

“There’s no—,” you hated the way that your voice cracked. The way that your eyes searched for his, as the fear settled into your chest. “There’s no exit wound.”

“I know. I need to dig out the bullet,” he nodded his head, his voice strained. “But I can’t fucking do that if you keep standing over there, now can I?”

Fucking hell.

Swallowing, you forced your feet to carry you onto the dusty old couch, the springs creaking as you did.

“If I fall through this fucking couch, I’m blaming you.”

“If you had listened to my fucking orders—“ He left his sentence hanging, as his fingers moved to investigate the wound on your shoulder. “Can you fucking stay still?”

“I didn’t move.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I was fucking shot, Ghost.” Your words, despite being laced with a touch of annoyance, were spoken as a breathless laugh. “I can’t fucking help—“ Your eyes squeezed shut, as he rested the palms of his hands around the wound and pressed down. “Fucking hell—“

“Bite down ‘em moans, love.” His brows were furrowed with his concentration. “I see the fucker.”

“Intact?”

“Can’t tell.”

Fuck.

“Pass me 'em tweezers.”

With quivering hands, you did as you were told. “First time fishing out a bullet?”

“Not even damn close.”

“So why are your hands shaking?”

From your words, he paused: his gaze meeting yours for only the briefest moment, as he spoke. “I’m your only fucking chance at getting this bullet out fast enough to avoid infection, so how ‘bout you keep your mouth shut and let me focus?”

With an arched brow, you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth—only to bite down, hard, as he dipped in the tweezers.

“Jesus—“

“I know, darlin’.” His voice was deep, as his other hand moved to massage your shoulder. “Just breathe for me, yeah? In and out.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your heavy breaths, yet his hand on your shoulder helped.

His voice and the familiar depth of it were grounding.

“Keep talking,” you managed, brows knitted. “Please.”

“I don’t—“

“Tell me a stupid joke, or—or fucking yell at me for not listening to your orders. Whatever gets you talking.”

“Fine.” Ghost cursed under his breath, as his fingers kept on working on your shoulder. “So there's Bob, yeah?"

“Who the fuck is Bob?”

“Just—fucking listen. Bob hasn't got any arms.”

“What happened to his arms?”

“Sarge.”

“Sorry.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Not Bob.”

"I—" Your laugh was breathless, as you shook your head. “I sort of wish you had yelled at me instead. That was the worst fucking knock knock joke I’ve heard since—“

“Yeah, well. It was long enough to keep you distracted.” He lifted up the tweezers, between which a small bullet glimmered in the dim light of the shack. “Intact.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathed out, as he dropped the bullet on your open palm. “I’m so keeping this as a trophy.”

“It wasn’t your fucking first one, was it?”

You arched a brow with a warm laugh, fingers now playing with the bloodied piece of metal. “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

“Doubt luck had much to do with it.” Though his eyes did not meet yours—he was busy looking for a gauze to bandage you with—you could hear the touch of annoyance in his voice.

You had fucked up. 

“Look, Lt.—“

“I gave you a simple fucking order to fall back.”

“Ghost, I—“

“A fucking rookie would understand what it means when their superior tells them to fall the fuck back.” His fingers kept fumbling with the med-kit, despite the gauze being right beside his hand.

He couldn’t even look at you, could he? 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck did you not fall back?”

His gaze avoiding yours had been hard to handle, yet as he lifted his head and his eyes met yours, the anger, and frustration, and goddamn desperation in them was like a dagger through your heart.

“Because there were too fucking many of them, Ghost.” Your brows knitted, as you shook your head with your frustration. “Because if I hadn’t stayed, you would have been the one to take a fucking bullet for some simple goddamn A-to-B mission.”

“As your superior, it is my fucking job to evaluate the situation, sergeant.” His voice was laced with the same frustration that played in your voice. “The last fucking place I wanted you to be was—“

“Beside you, when everything went south? There were fucking six of them in full riot gear and a basket full of grenades as if they were goddamn apples. There was no fucking way you were going to walk out of there without—“

Without getting hurt. 

“Why the fuck do you think I wanted you gone?”

So that you would be safe.

So that one of you would live.

“You knew we wouldn’t make it,” you managed, your voice cracking with your realization. 

“I knew one of us could.”

Fucking—

“Asshole.”

Ghost snapped his gaze up, his brows furrowed. “Wanna fucking repeat that, sarge?”

“I called you an asshole. I—” You shook your head, frustrated, as an unbelieved laugh bubbled from your lips. “Let me get this straight. This entire time you were mad at me because I took a fucking bullet saving your ass when you were planning on doing the same for me? Do you fucking—do you hear yourself talk?”

“That’s not the fucking—“

“So me refusing to leave the side of someone I care about is the biggest goddamn crime out there, but you expected me to just—what?—continue my life out there after losing you like nothing fucking happened? Like the person I love didn’t just fucking die protecting me?”

“It was you or me, sarge. It was—“ He paused. 

A second passed, followed by another.

And that—that’s when it hit you.

You let it slip, didn't you?

He blinked. “What did you just—“

“Don’t,” you managed, your eyes blinking shut as your breath clung to your throat. “Ghost. Don’t.”

“Repeat what you said, sergeant.”

“No.”

“That’s a fucking order, sarge.”

With a deep breath, you spoke. “I asked you if you expected me to continue my life as if the person I loved didn’t just die—“

“Protecting you.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you mean it?”

“Ghost—“

“Answer my fucking question.”

“Yes.”

Even with your eyes remaining closed, you could hear the deep breath that passed his lips. 

“Fucking hell, love.”

“Can we just forget I—” You shook your head. “We could just forget.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the way he swallowed, thick, as he shifted on the floor of the shed of which silence was suddenly deafening. And then, he continued. "Yeah. Or we could just fucking stop pretending like this hasn't been—" He blew out a deep breath. "It's been fucking months, love. We could forget, or we could just fucking stop pretending like we didn't have it in for each other from the first goddamn moment you walked in. Like it hasn't been months of wanting to—"

Kiss him.

Touch him.

Scream the three little words at him.

And despite the spinning of your head, your chuckle was warm as it passed your lips. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say I had it in for you from the moment I saw you. It did take somewhere between one to twelve hours for—" 

From the feeling of his hand reaching for your cheek, the words died down on your lips, now slightly parted.

"For—?"

"What?"

"You didn't finish your sentence," he mused. He was closer now, as the back of his hand caressed your skin. Soft and gentle: so at odds with the roughness of his voice, and the size of his hand, slightly calloused. 

So at odds with the way that the two of you had been going for each other's throats for ten months.

So fucking welcome of a change.

"I think I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"That's a first," he chuckled. "Think I like it more when you talk."

"Think I like it more when you shut the f—," your brows furrowed, as your words were cut off. Yet this time, it was not because you did not know what to say, or because he was too impatient to let you finish. 

This time your words were cut off by Ghost’s lips on yours.

You knew better than to open your eyes, as he moved closer to you. You knew better than to push it, as his fingers closed around your wrist and brought it to the side of his neck.

Permission to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin against yours, as your lips deepened the kiss. Warm and passionate, driven by months of built-up frustration and yearning, and something so much softer and gentler. 

Something loving.

Something meant to be. 

[eviesaurusrex]

just had this thought because i got a weighted blanket recently, but simon would get jealous and pouty if you got one :( he'd be all like "what about me...🥺" and "i thought i was your blanket" or something corny like that :( and would literally be all over you to prove that you don't need one :(

um idk where i was going with this lol just the thought of this big grown ass man getting pouty about something as mundane as this makes me giggle. he is down SO. BAD. (me too)

hi my dearest i am sorry for the late response ... but HELLLOOO THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!! also weighted blankets sound so nice mmmm i hope u are sleeping well these days :3 AND ugh… he would feel a little left out...!! simon riley u can Not be envying a blanket. but alright…… i’ll indulge him!!!!!!

a glare is given to the packaging of your weighted blanket as he watches you unbox it right before bed.

“an' what's that?” he points with his chin – quite rudely – to the thick, heavy, and quilted blanket as you unwrap it with an anticipant smile. the softness in his voice belies the tiny spark of jealousy already beginning to fester under his skin when you wrap it around yourself with a raised brow.

“a blanket, what else?”

“for what?”

“to... sleep with?” you respond obviously, feeling question marks grow on your head. “simon, i talked about it last week, remember?”

oh, he remembers, alright.

he knew how much you wanted a weighted blanket – constantly listening to you talk about how much better sleep would be if you had one, comparing the weights and brands, and simon didn’t mind. weighted blankets seemed nice, and he was even considering buying one for himself.

until... you actually got one, and began treating it like it was the peak of your life.

he knows it's foolish to become envious of an inanimate object—especially something like a blanket. what, would he be feeling jealous of your toothbrush next? of the air that gets to swirl around you?

“yeah, i remember. looks nice.” he clears his throat and brushes it off. c’mon, riley.

your confused smile turns to a snort and you shake your head, bunching the blanket up and crawling onto the bed. “let's try it.”

he loves you a lot, he does. he loves you more than one can begin to explain, so he lies in bed with you under the weighted blanket that he so desperately wants to return to the manufacturer.

your body instantly relaxes with the pressure being laid atop of you, a soothing compression. you almost drift to sleep until you feel simon sit up, pulling the blanket off of you along with him. you make a sleepy groan while stretching and yawning.

“hey! i was just about to fall asleep…”

he contemplates for a second, biting his cheek and giving you a scrutinizing gaze before fixing the blanket over you, the comfort washing over you again.

“rest up. i'll be back. need a tea.” he leans over to press a short kiss onto your cheekbone – making you grin – before getting out of bed, running a hand through his hair because he just knows you're questioning the strange behavior now.

he scrolls through his phone as he lets the tea cool off, eyes meticulously scanning the words on the screen.

'benefits of weighted blankets'

'provides user with sense of calm, similar to being held by a loved one'

…similar to being held by a loved one? he blinks and scoffs at the phone as if it had just violated him and instantly puts it to sleep. was he not enough? were you replacing him with a mere blanket that simply weighed a few pounds? he could have been holding you and laying on top of you if you had just asked. he’d be careful, y'know.

he gulps down the tea and returns to the bedroom to see you peacefully sleeping with that horrid weighted blanket. of course, he won’t disturb your sleep, so he climbs into bed carefully and settles into his side, facing you, staring at your blanket with resentment.

“you an’ your bloody blanket…” he huffs quietly before shifting into a comfortable position to sleep, his words falling on deaf ears.

the next few days, you continue to use the blanket, much to his dismay. tonight’s no stranger to the habit, but now, you can feel the staring (paired with faint frowns) that he’s been giving you all day—the perpetual feeling that you’re doing something wrong. your body feels lighter, you get a good night’s rest, you’ve even offered to share it… what could be going wrong?

“stop with the staring if you aren’t going to tell me what’s going on.” you finally mutter, sighing as you lay down, facing him.

his eyes squint to examine you, still using that damned blanket. fingers come to tug at the cloth, and your face twitches in confusion.

“this thing.” he answers.

“my blanket?”

“no, thing. s’a sorry excuse of a blanket.” he grunts, scooting closer to you. “m’jealous.”

“of a blanket?” you ask, mirthful disbelief in your voice. his body has graduated from his side to yours, and he’s snaking an arm around you now.

he echoes you, “of a blanket, love. thought i was your blanket.”

you’re trying to lift your arm to adjust yourself, but the constraint remains, eliciting a groan from you. his familiar stubble scratches the skin of your shoulder. “you’re silly.”

“m’serious. y’didn’t need to buy this thing. waste o’ money when m’right here.”

“it helps me sleep, simon.” you groan, drawn out and thick when he flips your blanket off, lightening the load on your body. his body finds a home atop of yours, his burly form swallowing yours, and gravity pushing his weight onto you.

your weighted blanket is now discarded to the bottom corner of the bed, your feet nudging the bundle. you mutter his name again while wriggling under him to get comfortable.

“the blanket can’t do this though, can it?” his voice drops to one barely above a whisper, and he starts peppering featherlight kisses all over your neck, making your lips curl up.

“no,” you giggle softly, nuzzling your head into his. he smells like the sheets—no, the sheets smell like him: worn-in and cozy, home. “you’re heavier though.”

“you’ll be fine, love. jus’ tap out if you surrender.” he smiles against your jaw, resuming his kisses that ruffle your hair and seem to sear you like a second skin.

you firmly pat his behind, making him tense up – kisses pausing. “like this?”

“no.” he grunts with a hinted chuckle, propping his head into the crook of your neck. “sleep.”

your lids grow droopy and heavy, the pressure all over your body calming. “okay…” you knock out like a baby, and simon’s just happy to be wrapped around you again—to get that troublesome “weighted blanket” out of his way.

the blanket is stored away the next morning.

[eviesaurusrex]

Over His Shoulder

Simon 'Ghost' Riley / fem!Reader

Summary:  Simon decides that his girl needs a Christmas tree (how on Earth is she going to properly celebrate otherwise?).

Content:   pure fluff, flirting, pining, first-dates-stage, kissing, Simon showing off all that military muscle

Word Count:  2.2k

Part: 1/2

Notes: I saw that @glitterypirateduck is hosting a 2023 COD holiday special and couldn’t resist putting in my own two cents. ✨ Inspired by the song Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift, I had been wanting to write this exact thing for ages! Enjoy my dears. 🤍🎄

Holding his large hand in hers, she closed her eyes as rare snowflakes drifted past, the sharp and icy wind stinging her cheeks and carrying the unmistakable scent of sap and green and Christmas.

"The fuck you mean you don‘t have a tree?"

Cracking one eye open again, she turned to stare up at Simon where they stood, hot mulled wines and ciders still clutched in their hands. 

He looked handsome, white-blonde curls partially hidden beneath a bright blue beanie, the new scar bisecting his lower lip and running down to his chin a darker shade of pink due to the cold. Stormy eyes watched her, way more intense than she would have anticipated given their light-hearted conversation only moments before.

She popped another cinnamon roasted almond into her mouth, letting go of him, before replying. 

"Well, none of my flatmates are home for the holidays."

Simon stared at her.

"And?"

With a huff and fond eye-roll, she peered up at him, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.

"Don‘t tell anyone, Si. But I draw my feminism and equality line at carrying a Christmas tree through three neighborhoods by myself."

Amusement replaced the strangely endearing outrage over something as simple as a missing tree.

"I see. But it‘s your first Christmas away from your family, don‘t y’want to make it special?"

The question was uncharacteristically gentle. Simon brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, fingertips lingering on her cheekbone for a moment.

The cider in her bloodstream made her want to do reckless things, like pull him in closer and kiss him stupid for everybody to see. 

But although they‘d gone on multiple dates ever since he‘d come home from deployment, and even shyly kissed goodbye after the last two, she still felt awkward.

He was turning out to be everything she‘d ever wanted in a man: kind, funny, handsome as hell. Interested in her beyond her body. Attentive.

She hadn‘t wanted to fuck it up by being too forward, didn‘t want him to think that she was easy, even though she knew that this was a ridiculous and outdated thought (they weren‘t exclusive, but she wasn‘t above pretending that she hadn’t fretted about what he might be up to once he inevitably went back). And really, would it not almost be… equal to lying if she toned herself down? 

"We do have a mistletoe you know," she smirked a little, preening under his attention when a smile spread across his face as well, and he leaned in a little closer to her.

"Yeah?" He breathes, eyes dropping to her mouth for a moment. Just as she thought he might close the distance between them, a cackling group of middle-aged women bumped into her from behind. They were clearly sloshed, and one shouted an apology, but the moment was gone. 

Simon had reflexively curled a hand around her waist, and she could have sworn that she felt his searing presence even through the thick layers of a winter coat and jumper. He glared daggers over her shoulder, and she grabbed his chin gently to get his attention back.

Deep chocolate eyes immediately zeroed back in on her, making her smile. 

"It‘s getting kind of late, mind walking me to the train station?" 

Simon gave her a disbelieving look.

"You think I‘d let you drive all the way home by yourself? It‘s not safe." 

She hadn‘t really felt unsafe in Manchester so far, but if he wanted to come along she sure as hell wouldn‘t say no. 

They wandered the snowy streets, most of it melted into dirty slush already where cars continued to drive by. Someone somewhere sang an awfully off-key version of Last Christmas, just as Simon slid his hand into hers again. He kept looking straight ahead and sometimes across the street, clearly watching out for trouble. 

The Christmas market had been in one of the more family friendly neighborhoods, so his constant vigilance felt a little over the top, but she didn‘t complain. Instead, she started another steady stream of conversation about his time in the military, while he wanted to know all about her exchange program. 

Simon seemed as fascinated by her degree as she was about his job, which was a welcome change. Most guys she‘d been introduced to or had met here never really seemed to care all that much - but with him, she always felt like she came back more enriched within her understanding of the world whenever another date ended.

Lost in that thought, she noticed too late that Simon had stopped walking, only another street corner away from the train station.

"Si?" She asked softly, then followed his gaze. Tucked between two older houses and a small community park, there was a fenced-in area full of-

"Found you a tree," Simon grinned, then broke every single traffic law her mother had ever drilled into her and tugged her across the slippery street. 

"You can‘t be serious," she laughed, but went along, still clutching his hand. "It‘s just for one person, not even worth it!"

He shot her an unreadable look, something clearly on the tip of his tongue. But then he turned towards the elderly man running the little shop instead. His nose was ruddy from the cold, and the closer she looked, the more ancient he appeared. The man shot them a toothy smile, his little tree netting machine getting loaded by a younger guy she hadn’t noticed, as they wrapped a tree for a family.

"Welcome, welcome!" He called cheerily, and she smiled back. 

Simon dragged her around the whole thing, inspecting different trees of varying shapes and sizes. Most of them were too big or too expensive, but then they both spotted it: a medium-sized tree with the most perfect shape and color. 

"That one?" He glanced at her, smiling at the excitement on her face. When she nodded, despite being hesitant about the whole endeavor, Simon waved over the old gentleman so they could wrap it up. 

He shot her a look when she protested about him handing over a few pound bills, cringing because of the amount. She didn’t have much as a student, so him doing this for her was incredibly kind - but that was boyfriend behavior, wasn‘t it? Getting each other things just because you cared? 

The thought made her ache with want, and she wanted to kiss him as a thank you, but then Simon already heaved the entire bloody tree over his shoulder like it was nothing. 

"Oh my god, no!" She protested, trying to help him by at least holding one side of it. He was going to ruin his back and shoulders-

Simon smirked.

"Just put your feminism aside for me, doll," he mumbled, then turned towards the not far-off train station. "Think we‘ll catch the next?"

She huffed out a breath somewhere between amusement and exasperation, and then they carefully made their way back through the sludge and up some stairs, garnering a few curious looks due to their unusual cargo. Simon seemed unbothered as he gently placed the big tree down inside the train wagon, leaning it against a seat and standing watch over it like some protective father.

She brushed her hand over the coarse netting holding it all together, glancing up at him as they stood squished together.

"Thank you," she whispered, genuinely happy about the prospect that she actually would have a tree now. "You didn‘t need to." Buy me a tree, carry it home for me. Be this kind.

Simon tucked another strand of hair back in place, straightening her wooly hat over her ears and forehead before leaning in and pressing one quick, chaste kiss to her lips. 

"But I wanted you to have it," he whispered back in the same low tone, then kissed her again, just as briefly. "I like to see you smile like that."

"Like what?" She couldn’t help but giggle, cheeks burning. He held her flushed skin in his palm for a moment, still smiling as well.

"Like that." 

Like I‘m a little bit in love with you, you mean? Because yeah, I can admit the obvious to myself. 

"That‘s just me being a little tipsy," she teased him, but he shook his head.

"No," he rumbled, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose before releasing her, yanking the tree towards him when a good chunk of people got ready to exit with them. "That‘s you being happy around me."

Getting the tree up to the third floor looked easy when Simon did it, but she already dreaded having to take it back down once he was back on deployment. 

He looked barely winded, patiently waiting for her as she hastily rummaged through the endless depths of her purse for the house key. 

Simon looked around with interest as she let him in, and she send up a silent prayer of thanks that she had picked up all her dirty underwear from the sofa and bedroom floor last night. 

They decided that the only thing large and sturdy enough for the tree was her flatmates umbrella stand, that thankfully only housed one at the moment. Simon positioned her new tree just right, and then she had the honor of cutting off the protective netting again. 

Seeing it standing there, in the otherwise bare living room made her heart feel fuzzy. 

Turning back towards him, she beamed up at him. "It‘s so cute!"

He smiled back. "It sure is."

Deciding that the most important matter of business was done, she shrugged out of her coat and wooly jumper, the heater turned up to max already because she was that kind of person. Always cold, and always complaining about it, too.

Simon watched her with interest, but when he also reached up to undo the zipper of his jacket, she suddenly felt an onslaught of nerves.

Simon was in her flat. Her Simon, taking off the thickest layer between them, the one that would reveal his extremely lickable torso and arms and-

"Do you want a tea?" She asked quickly, voice an octave higher than usual from the sizzling electricity running down her spine at the thought. She‘d seen him in a compression shirt before, on their first date, back in autumn. But that had been inside a café, with a table safely tucked between them and a pair of grannies watching them like hawks. 

No temptation to jump across the table and climb him like a tree - at least none that she couldn’t reign in with an iron fist.

Simon looked surprised for a moment, then nodded with a shrug. "Sure, thanks."

He slowly followed her into the kitchen as she busied herself with the kettle, dumping two random bags of tea into mugs. Simon was in her flat. They were alone. Alone.

He stepped closer, curling his hands around the edge of her kitchen counter, still just looking at her. Something was burning in those dark eyes, bright and clear and greedy and she was going to combust into flames soon if he didn‘t stop. 

"Hey," he murmured eventually, voice gravelly as he leaned further into her space, but still leaving the option open to retreat if she wanted to. She didn‘t. 

The smell of sap clung to him, mixing with the unmistakable scent of honey-roasted almonds. God, he looked so sexy with his curls damp and even curlier than usual, pale skin flushed from the cold. 

"I was wondering…"

"Yes?" Her voice was barely a breath, stuck somewhere in her throat. When Simon smiled in that wickedly tempting way he did sometimes, her heart skipped several beats, mouth going impossibly dry.

"You mentioned something about a mistletoe? Just wondering if we already walked underneath it by any chance."

She immediately grabbed for his shoulders, sliding her hands into the nape of his neck. His eyes widened in surprise, but then she pressed her mouth to his, standing on tiptoes to reach him.

To his credit, he almost immediately recovered from the shock of her sudden assault, sliding one hand down her back and the other into her hair as he kissed her back. It was a little clumsy, with both of them pressing their lips hard against the other‘s - as though the pressure was the only thing able to communicate their need.

She whined a little, and Simon took that opportunity to open his mouth and gently slide his tongue along her lower lip. Like he thought she was fragile, like he didn‘t know how much she had craved him for weeks, maybe even months now. How he starred in her most depraved fantasies, how this sweet Christmas tree carrying side of him made him look only hotter in her eyes. 

So she sucked his tongue into her mouth, and Simon groaned in surprise as they stumbled a little under her enthusiasm, his thick body caging her against the kitchen counter top. Their tea mugs made a little clanking sound as they got pushed against each other, from her butt being lifted there or Simon‘s hands brushing against them - it was impossible to tell. 

But it still broke them out of their kiss, breathing heavily as they stared at each other in the dim light streaming in from the living room. His eyes were dark, and he looked happy and pleased and damn, the knitted sweater did things for his waist and shoulder ratio that had her swallowing.

Then, just as he leaned in for another kiss, she smacked her forehead. Hard. 

"Si, I don‘t even have baubles for my tree!“

My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!

next (nsfw) part -> read here!

festive dividers by @cafekitsune ✨

[eviesaurusrex]

late night cuddling with Simon, he’s super sleepy and you just can’t stop talking, I’m in need.

the type of man who will let you keep rambling and will give you the occasional 'mhm' instead of telling you to be quiet right away and that he's trying to sleep.

the two of you had slipped into bed hours ago to watch a movie, but by this point it had been long done. the entirety of the movie was filled with bursts of you making comments and trying to figure out what happened next. and in response, simon's hand lazily scratching your back while you cuddled next to him would come to a stop and instead would poke your backside. "jus' keep watching, love," he murmurs quietly, eyes focused on the tv on the wall opposite of the bed.

and even with the movie being done, you still managed to trail off and talk about random topics. questions here and there that were rhetorical and sometimes specifically directed towards simon. a string of 'yes, love', 'mhm, yeah i agree' and other quick words to indicate he was listening only fueled the continuation of your ramblings. but soon enough, he couldn't fight the sleep his body had been trying to give in to the past thirty or more minutes, eyes drooping shut.

"simon, are you listening?" your voice registered in his head, and keeping his eyes closed he rolled onto his side while adjust your position as well so your back was against him. draping an arm over your body and tugging you close, his lips pressed against the back of your head.

"you're an energizer bunny, y'know?" his voice laced with teasing despite the way it left his mouth like a grumble. your cheeks warmed at the comment, feeling embarrassed at your constant rambling for the past few hours now.

"sorr-"

"don't apologize." his arm gave you a gentle squeeze. "keep talkin' all you want. can't promise i'll reply in the next five minutes," a small yawn escaped his lips as he shifted slightly, his head nestled against the pillow but his arm never loosening its hold on you. so, you quietly rambled on once more and a soft chuckle from simon vibrated against you when he realized you would still keep going even if he was going to crash asleep any minute. the last words from him are a quiet ' love you' that's just managed to leave his lips before sleep washes over him.

[eviesaurusrex]

shoots domestic and soft simon riley beam at all of you. sick fic with sick!simon again…. was thinking about this when i had a fever last week… soooo i think taking care of a sick loved one is one of the greatest forms of love :-) he deserves soft & tender love…….

everything feels heavy; it feels like someone laid a layer of foam saturated with thick tar on top of him. each movement of his head feels like a deep thud inside his brain, and his breaths feel hot coming from a shivering body.

“simon?”

you try whispering his name for the fifth time, your hand gently caressing him over the blanket. he looks like a mess. his hair’s disheveled, his skin ranges from an unhealthy pale to an even unhealthier one, and he can barely open his eyes.

he hums softly, it’s the only sound he can make right now. he hasn’t talked for the entire morning, making his throat dry and hoarse.

“are you hungry?”

he shakes his head slightly. you tuck the blanket over his shoulders a bit tighter with an expression sulking in worry.

“you haven’t eaten today.”

he nods, acknowledging that fact. he’s thrown up everything: the dinner from last night, some more dinner from last night, and the medicine he took this morning. nothing will stay down, and he’s feeling like absolute shit.

he hasn’t been this sick since he was a recruit going through rough military training, and that was years ago. his immune system’s usually the best it could be.

now, nausea overrides his entire body, making it impossible for him to get up and walk around without his mouth watering, a telltale of his vomit.

and he’s burning.

it’s as if the sun branded him all over, buried him in snow for a few hours, then repeated the process. there aren’t enough covers to keep him warm, and when he wakes up from his one hour naps - unable to sleep properly - the blankets are tossed off, his body suddenly feeling hot. he shivers when you feel the heat of his forehead, his eyelids coming up slowly.

“i’ll be fine. jus’ need some rest.” he manages, his voice much raspier than normal. there’s a few cracks in his voice too, and it only deepens the seed of concern in your chest.

“you’re too warm, simon. need a shower?” you gently offer, knowing he might be too weak to even get out of bed right now. “i can help you.”

he is too weak. his muscles are aching, probably from laying down all day—and he feels embarrassed. humiliated. he’s not supposed to get sick like this, not supposed to lay in bed all day while you run around trying to take care of—

“simon.” you mutter again.

the way you talk to him so softly is already enough of a remedy for his illness. so, he’ll let you take the covers off and help him up, steadying him as you both get to the bathroom.

“sorry, love.” he chuckles, the little noise echoing throughout the bathroom. “should be able t’do this myself.”

slowly, you help him strip off his clothes while shaking your head with an anxious smile.

“it’s fine. i wanna take care of you.”

he has to fight his body to stand up, to stay awake as you shower with him, his head resting on your shoulder while you wash him. his breath is still hot when it comes out, the warmth translating into your skin.

he’s lightheaded; part of it is from how you’re taking care of him so… kindly. the other part being from his actual sickness.

“don’ wanna get you sick…” he grumbles, standing up to his full height, face flushed from the steamy water.

“you won’t.” you reassure him, rinsing his arms off. even if you get sick, you won’t mind taking care of him again like this. you’ll just be in the same boat, taking care of each other.

he watches you, watches the way you caress the soapy water off his arms as your other hand splashes clean water onto it, watches the way you care for him. you’re bare in the shower with him, hands carefully scooping water onto his shoulders, the warm water running down his body.

you’d wash him. no, you are washing him. it’s just a simple shower to help rid him of the feverish heat, but simon’s completely enamored.

he leans over to press a kiss on your forehead, starting to lather up some soap into your head in return.

“thanks, love.” he whispers, heavy lids crinkling into a small smile.

after the shower when you’re both dressed back up, he does feel more refreshed, but the nausea still lingers, making him retch nothing into the toilet. his stomach’s empty, but he genuinely can’t even stomach thinking about food right now.

god, he hates this; his throat aches with tears stinging at his waterline from the empty gags.

you pat his back softly with a sigh.

“c’mon.”

after he rinses his mouth and face off, you blow-dry his hair before yours, running your fingers through damp hair as he melts into your touch, leaning towards you with closed eyes.

you smile, rubbing the cartilage of his ear between your fingers. “tired?”

“yeah…” he blinks slow, starting to stand up.

“not hungry still?”

he shakes his head, massaging the back of his neck.

“can eat when i wake up.”

both of your bodies find the bed, his being tucked in snug before you settle in. he should be keeping his distance, but he pulls you over, wrapping his arm over your shoulders. it’s warm like this. in his chest. in his body. out of a shower with you, warm heads and ears from the distant heat of the blow-dryer, close to you.

“s’cold.” he murmurs against your forehead, the sickly body heat creating a scorching warmth under the blankets.

you smile and hold him back, entangling your limbs together, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“okay.”

[eviesaurusrex]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 ♡

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: You’re up late at night, alone and touch starved, when you get a phone call from the man you miss the most.

word count: 3.3k

warning/tag: Smut (18+, mdni!) Language. Fluff and a little angst. Mutual masturbation (phone sex). Reader is wearing one of Simon's shirts. Mention of cunnilingus, tit sucking, unprotected p in v with creampie, implied breeding kink on Simon’s side. Use of ‘good girl’.

"Girl, you know I miss you, I just wanna kiss you But I can't right now So baby kiss me through the phone”

Simon is away again and holy fuck how you miss him. Every moment feels incomplete without him by your side. The distance between you seems unbearable at times, and the ache in your heart grows with each passing day.

As you are lying in bed, wearing his t-shirt, thoughts of him consume your mind. The soft fabric against your skin carries his scent, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You imagine his smile, a smile so few people get to witness, but you are one of the few lucky ones who he let see it, you imagine his laughter. The warmth and security you feel whenever he holds you tight in his strong arms. As you replay cherished memories in your head, the longing intensifies, turning into a thumping pain in your chest, but it also brings you a sense of cathartic comfort.

If you just could call him it’ll be easier, but you can’t, you understand the need for secrecy and the importance of protecting his mission. You just have to be patient and wait till he can call you.

Now every time you hear a phone ring, your heart skips a beat. When it’s your own phone you find yourself hoping that it’s Simon on the other end, ready to reassure you that he is alright and that your fears are unfounded. But at the same time, there’s always a tinge of fear, a nagging worry that the call might bring news that your worst nightmare has come true.

And, as if on cue, as you lay and think about these things, the sound of your phone breaks through the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat. 

Your heart races, and you can’t help but wonder if it could be Simon. With trembling hands, you reach for the device, hoping beyond hope that it’s him. You glance at the screen and can’t see any number, it is an encrypted line, and a surge of emotions overwhelms you.

Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation, excitement and fear, you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, love,” Simon’s gruff voice comes through the phone. He sounds knackered, but definitely alive. His voice crackles through the line, but the sound of it instantly soothes your worries. 

Relief floods over you, and tears well up in your eyes. “Hi, Si,” you greet him, trying to keep your emotions somewhat in check so you don’t use the precious time you get to talk to him bawling your eyes out. 

“I didn’t wake you did I?” His deep voice, laced with concern. 

“No, you didn’t,” you reassure him, not that you would have given a damn if he had, you’re just happy to hear his voice, alive and well.

“Well, you should be sleeping, I hope you’re taking care of yourself, love,” Simon says, his voice filled with genuine concern. “How have you been holding up?”

A mix of emotions floods over you at his question. You appreciate his thoughtfulness, knowing that despite the dangers he faces, he still worries about your well-being. But at the same time, you don’t want to burden him with your own struggles and fears.

“Well, you know me, I’ve been managing,” you reply, trying to sound strong. Afterall, he is the one who is facing danger and dodging bullets, not you. “Just looking forward to having you back.” 

Simon laughs softly, his deep voice filled with warmth. “I look forward to that too, love. But I promise, I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll have a proper cuppa together in no time, I’ll make sure we don’t have to deal with any of this long-distance rubbish for a while.” 

You can’t help but smile, a mix of love and longing in your heart. “I’ll hold you to that, I’ll keep the kettle ready. And I’ll make sure to get some proper biscuits this time.”

You had bought some fancy biscuits with rosemary and bergamot once, and Simon had absolutely hated them. Not that he had expressed it like that; he had been very polite about it, carefully trying to mask his distaste for the treats. However, you could see right through him. You had run down to the corner shop under your flat and bought some milk choc hobnobs, cause despite looking like a big scary bloke your boyfriend has the tastebuds of a child.      

“That sounds good,” Simon says, a longing sigh coming through the phone.

The simple thought of sharing a cup of tea with Simon brings a smile to your face. It’s the simple moments like those that you cherish the most, the moments of normalcy amidst the chaos that his career brings. But it also makes you miss other things to do with Simon. 

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, as your heart yearns for him you let a short silence unfold between you before you continue, your voice now sounding a little lower and more breathy. “I miss you, Simon.”

There is a brief pause before Simon responds, his voice filled with a mix of longing and determination, and holy fuck how you love that voice. You feel heat creep up your cheeks, at the sound, warmth pooling in your stomach, spreading through your body like a wildfire with longing for him. “I miss you too, love. Can’t wait to hold you again.” 

A surge of anticipation courses through you, and you can’t help but let your voice drop to a sultry whisper. “Yeah, I look forward to that.” 

Simon’s voice takes on a husky tone as he reads your switch in mood. “Consider it a guarantee, love. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you, show you just how much I’ve missed you, okay?”

“Mmm.” You hum to let him know that you are hearing him, but it comes out closer to a moan really. 

A brief silence hangs in the air between you before you break the silence again. 

“Si…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” you confess, the words escaping your lips with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

There is a short pause between you, one that feels way longer than it actually is, before Simon finally says something. “Which one, darling?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity and anticipation, as if he can already picture you wearing it.

“Your Zeppelin one,” you confess.

You can hear how Simon’s breath quickens on the other end of the line, becoming more throaty and shallow. His voice, when he finally speaks, is filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

“Yeah?” he responds, his tone laced with anticipation.

“Yeah, it smells like you,” you whisper down the phone. “I just miss you so much.” 

There’s a moment of silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Simon replies, his voice filled with the same desire that echoes within you. “Believe me, love, the feeling is mutual.” 

His words carry a warmth that wraps around you, bridging the physical distance between you both. It also makes a warm sensation swoop through your stomach, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together as you begin to feel a warm throbbing between your legs.     

“I wish you were here,” you say, meaning it from the bottom of your heart. 

Simon lets out a low chuckle, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Yeah, me too, love, you have no idea. But I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

Squirming slightly in your seat by his words, the warm throbbing of your cunt increases. You take a deep breath grabbing the fabric of his shirt to bring it up to your nose, the scent of him lingers, providing a sense of comfort and reassurance but also making you miss having him close so much more, making you crave it. 

“Are you alone?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.     

“Yes.”     

“Wanna tell me what you’re going to do to me when you come home?” You feel a swoop of anticipation run through you as you ask him.

The sound of Simon swallowing audibly comes through the phone, his voice filled with anticipation. 

You put your phone on speaker, placing it on a pillow beside you. 

“I’d take my time with you,” his voice crackles through the speaker, deep and raspy. “I’d start by kissing that sweet mouth of yours. I’d drink up all those little moans you always make for me. You have no idea how much they turn me on. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I hear them, making me so fucking hard, baby. and I’ll have to get up to rub one out.”       

And as if on cue you let out a whiny moan as you imagine him in his tactical trousers, the imposing bulge of his hard-on restrained against the fabric, how his big hand will squeeze it though the garment. 

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says with a sound that you think was supposed to be a laugh but ends up sounding more like a throaty groan. You hear the clang of metal through the phone, like a belt being unbuckled.  

“I’d kiss you until we are both out of breath, until we would have to break apart, maybe even a little longer. Fuck, miss kissing you so much, lovie.” 

“Miss that too,” you whimper, your hands now on your breasts, softly squeezing them through the soft cotton of Simon’s shirt as you rub your thighs together, feeling how the throbbing of your cunt reaches a whole new high, your panties getting more and more damp.      

“I’d start going down, kiss your jaw and down your neck,” Simon continues. 

Your breath hitches, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You can almost feel how your skin tingles in the places Simon describes kissing. 

“I’d keep going down, kiss you everywhere, love. Let myself taste just how sweet that body of yours is,” he groans softly. 

As his words reach your ears, a vivid image takes shape in your mind. You can picture the way he would hold you. How he would slowly trace every contour, every curve, as he maps out your skin with his lips and tongue, savouring the taste and texture of your skin, leaving a trail of desire in his wake.

“I’d take those pretty tits in my mouth, give them the attention they deserve.”  

You let out a little squeal as you imagine his tongue around your nipples, licking and sucking at your sensitive nubs. 

“Then I’d have you laid back on the bed, all naked and spread out for me. I’d get between your thighs and eat that sweet pussy out just how I know you like it, wouldn’t stop until you’ve gushed all over my face.”  

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself instinctively responding to the memory.  You can feel the weight of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your head tilts back, lost in the sensations that flood your imagination. The mere thought of his touch elicits a tantalising twitch of pleasure through your body, a physical manifestation of the connection you share.

You let your legs part, spreading them wide on the soft mattress, and you let your non-dominant hand creep down the soft fabric of the Simon’s shirt, continuing lower until you reach the hem of the garment and slides it up under the shirt, slowly tracing your fingers up over the warm skin of your naked abdomen and up through the valley of your tits, until you cup your breast again, this time without the barrier of the shirt, gently squeezing at the soft flesh before you start playing with your hardened nipple. Your dominant hand is wandering down to your panties, the pads of your fingers gently tracing a line over the now soaked fabric. You haven’t been this wet in a while, at least not since Simon left for deployment.   

Through the speakers of your phone, you hear him curse softly, his voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. The distance between you feels unbearable, as the desire to be together intensifies with each passing moment. As you close your eyes, your imagination takes flight, allowing you to indulge in the sweet memories of your bodies entwined. The anticipation builds, fueling the fire within. 

Now feeling so damned desperate you dip your hand into your panties, slowly sliding your fingers through your wet folds, coating them with your arousal, before you start to, oh so slowly, circling around your clit.  

“I’d let myself drown in that sweet, sweet pussy of yours. Sweetest, fucking thing I’ve ever had. I can still taste it whenever I think about it,” he continues. His tone is damn near dangerous, so low and growly. You almost cum from the thought alone, the thought of being completely at his mercy. “What about you, love? What would you do with me if I was there?” He coaxes you. 

“I’d let you have me however you want me. I miss having you inside me so bad, Si,” You admit with a whimper. 

“Oh, missing my cock that much, lovie?” he teases, but there is a tenderness and a longing hidden behind his words.   

“Mmm.” You nod even though he can’t see it. “I miss all of you, Si.”

The sounds of him pumping himself is now audible through the phone. The sound is making you even more desperate to have him back. You can’t help but imagine him, his big fist sliding up and down that big girthy cock of his, the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, throbbing and dripping with precum, just for you. 

“Fu-uuck, what I wouldn’t give to be inside you right now, sweetheart.” he almost growls, making you whimper. “I’d make you feel so good, baby. Turn you into a babbling cock drunk mess.” Simon’s voice grows huskier, filled with primal desire. “I’d fill you up so good, again and again until you you’d be fucking dripping, with my cum.” He growls down the phone. “Fill you up and give you a piece of me to carry, a piece of me you could have forever. Fu-uuck, and everyone would know that I’m yours, that we belong together.”    

A soft moan escapes your mouth as you imagine the scenario he’s describing. Your fingers now moving in fast tight circles around your sensitive clit. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, huh, love?” His voice, dripping with hunger and desperation, and you whine out for him, giving him those sweet sounds that you know makes him go feral. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “Fuuck, doing so good for me.”

A hot shiver runs up your spine at the praise. You remove your fingers from your clit, instead sliding them down a little further, making your panties push down your hips to instead dwell around your thighs. You drag your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your wetness before you slide first one then two fingers inside of your pussy. You bring your other hand, that until now had occupied your sensitive nipples, down to your clit, flickering the sensitive nub while you pump into yourself wishing that it was Simon’s skilled fingers or girthy cock that was thrusting into you instead. His name starts spilling from your lips in a line of whiny moans. 

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty,” he sounds like he is as close to ecstasy as you are, his voice low and breathy. “Are you close, baby?” 

“Ye-yeah, so close, Si,” you pant. The slick sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt ring in your ears and you know that Simon must be able to hear it over the phone. 

“I’m close too, love. Can you cum for me, sweetheart? We can cum together. Imagine me filling up that sweet little pussy, have you dripping with my cum, yeah?”  

“Yes, Simon, want that so bad,” you moan, “Fu-uck, I’m so close, Si.”

“That’s good. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he groans. “Come on, baby, cum with me.” 

You moan out his name as your walls clench around your fingers, your other hand flicking over your clit in a fast steady rhythm as you feel how the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps, your orgasm rushing through you in hot, blissful waves as you fuck yourself through your high. You can hear Simon’s throaty moans coming over the phone, cursing and panting under his breath as you both ride out your climaxes.

Your walls flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high. Aftershocks are still pumping through your cunt as you slowly pull your soaked fingers out, wiping them off on the sheets. You’ll change them in the morning, but right now you can’t be bothered. 

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Simon’s voice crackles through the phone again. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good, Si, really good, just wished you were here to feel good with me.” You grab the phone, turning it off speaker again and bringing it up to your ear. You lay yourself down on your side, curling up on yourself  as you let your body sink into the soft mattress. You pull the duvet over you, suddenly feeling very tired and alone, wishing that Simon was there to cuddle with you.     

“Yeah, I’d like that too.” His voice sounds much softer now.  

A little silence falls over you, the both of you needing to land again and you both feel the other’s absence all the more now, but you don’t want to stop talking with Simon, not when you finally can, but you also know that he only has limited time for phone calls. You just have to stay strong until you finally have him back again.  

“Si?”

“Yes, love?” Simon responds, his deep voice gentle and reassuring.

“Come back to me safe?” you plead, the weight of worry evident in your words.

A small pause follows. Then, Simon’s voice breaks through, filled with determination and devotion. “Love, I’ll come crawling back to you if I have to.” 

The words hang in the air for a moment, the intensity of Simon’s promise sinking into your heart. Tears well up in your eyes as you whisper, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Simon.” The vulnerability in your voice echoes the depth of your emotions, the fear of losing him almost too much to bear.

Simon’s voice softens, filled with tenderness as he responds, “You won’t have to find out, love.” 

Though you still worry about him, you let his words offer you solace for now.  

“It’s getting late,” Simon’s voice comes through with a hint of playfulness. “I think it’s time for you to get some beauty sleep.”

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle at his teasing tone, despite your worry for him, feeling the warmth of his affection even through the phone. “Oh, so you think I need beauty sleep, huh?” you reply, a mischievous twinkle in your voice.

Simon chuckles softly. “Well, only because you’re already the most beautiful person I know, and I want you to wake up even more radiant tomorrow.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, lieutenant Riley,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice and he chuckles softly at your remark. “Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” you ask softly, a gentle plea in your voice.

“Of course, love,” Simon replies, his words full of unwavering devotion. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” 

A sense of comfort washes over you, knowing that even when miles apart, Simon is there for you. The ache in your heart is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the knowledge that Simon is safe, for now.  

Closing your eyes, you listen to the steady sound of his breathing, a reminder of his presence and the love that binds you together. In this moment, sleep comes easier, your worries momentarily eased by the knowledge that you are not alone.

As you drift off into dreams, you hold onto the promise that soon you will be reunited, and the ache in your heart will be replaced with the joy of being in Simon’s arms once again.

[eviesaurusrex]

Slamming Doors

Simon 'Ghost' Riley / fem!Reader

Content:  civilian girlfriend, Simon is home from deployment, arguments + apologies, some sexual tension

Word Count:  1.3k

"Not now," Simon said dismissively, voice distant as he shuffled through several thick folders full of reports and papers that had chunky restricted or confidential stamps all over them. 

Boring. And definitely not how you thought you were going to spend your second weekend after his deployment together.

The thing is, it always takes Simon a while to get used to being around you again. 

Months spent apart, getting shot at and doing God-knows-what to God-knows-who left their mark, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to leave the Ghost persona at the door and embrace himself again. 

You understood, truly. 

There was no room for the soft-spoken, kind man on the battlefield. Simon, who liked to go out for a pint on the weekends and watched homebuilding YouTube channels to fall asleep to most nights, had to become someone else in order to kill on demand and wipe out entire districts with the push of a button. 

Sometimes you feared that, one day, there would only be an empty shell left, with violence and death filling the vacant spots where your boyfriend used to be.

"Yes, now," you pouted a bit, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against his desk with your hip. "I'm starving."

"Go get something then," he snapped, turning another page over, dark eyes not even looking at you as he read on and on. "I'm busy."

It hurt more than it should have, that cold voice. Unbidden, your throat constricted, and you could feel the tell-tale signs of tears working their way into your eyes.

"Right," you said, and even to your own ears the word rang hollow. You pushed yourself away from the bent-over figure, and something in your tone must have caught his attention because Simon finally looked up, mouth twisting as if to say something.

Whatever it had been, he faltered, dark eyes scanning your face, but you brushed past him, fists balled.

"Love-" he started, voice tired but you really really didn't want to talk to him anymore. Especially since every second longer in that office felt like one too many, like being stuck in an elevator with a stranger. 

"Whatever, forget it."

You slammed the door behind you on your way out, blinking against the tears and scrubbing over your face angrily. What a silly thing to cry about! If that... idiot wanted to hole up and drown himself in more work during his time off, fine. He could have his stupid papers for dinner for all you cared!

You thundered down the stairs of the cozy townhouse you were renting together, tying your hair up in a ponytail and raiding the fridge in a huff. As you busied yourself in the kitchen, you tried to shake off the anger and hurt you felt over Simon's behavior, but it was hard. You loved him, wanted to spend quality time with him at any given opportunity.

Going out for dinner had been yet another attempt to break him out of his shell, but just like the proposed cinema afternoon on Tuesday and the daytrip to the coast yesterday, he'd been uninterested. Dismissive. Cold. 

You had to be extra careful as you angrily cut your tomatoes, fingers dangerously close to getting chopped off with how vigorously you were handling the knife. 

Throwing them into the pan, you turned around to let the onions meet the same fate as strong, tattooed arms wound their way around your middle, giving you a terrible fright.

"Sorry," Simon murmured into your shoulder as he hunched behind you, taking in the different ingredients on the counter. "Didn't want to startle you."

He paused, but when you didn't answer him and didn't lean into his embrace, Simon sighed and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, pulling you back until his body was flush with yours. You were still gripping the knife tightly, angry at yourself for being such a crybaby, and at him for not being this sweet all the time.

"What are you making, doll?" Simon murmured, lips bushing over the soft and sensitive skin on the back of your neck, goosebumps prickling your arms instantly.

"Bolognese," you grumbled, then shrugged him off as you reached for the fridge door again, pulling out some meat. You didn't get far however, because just as you turned, Simon was there in your personal space. 

He roughly grabbed the plastic tub out of your hands and threw it somewhere on the kitchen table, caging you in with his arms until your faces were only centimeters apart and dark eyes swallowed up every inch of your face.

"Are you angry with me?" Simon asked, voice low and kind of sweet and dangerous all in one. 

"No," you frowned, looking away, but a strong, long-fingered hand curled around your chin instantly and turned your head back towards him.

"But you are very quiet now," he said gently, then his calloused thumb brushed over your cheek first before trailing over to your mouth, tickling the soft skin of your lips as he stared at you. "Usually you chirp so prettily for me all day long."

"Annoy you, you mean," you frowned, but didn't pull away from his hold. 

Simon frowned as well, eyes darting between yours.

"How can I be annoyed with you, when being here is all I ever think about while we're apart?"

"You have a funny way of showing that," you snapped. "You barely looked at me all week, let alone spent time with me!"

"I'm looking now, aren't I?" His voice was thick, and his thumb dragged over your lower lip again, burning gaze following the movement. Then his eyes snapped back up to yours and he pulled you close by your chin, licking his lips.

"'M sorry, love, alright? It was just some last paperwork I didn't get to, I didn't mean to- y'know. Be rude to you."

The air between you seemed to crackle in the dim overhead light of the kitchen counter, Simon looming in front of you and looking chagrined. 

"That was very rude," you pouted, and his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. 

"I know, but so was slamming the door."

That earned him the first giggle out of you, and you felt the tension leave your shoulders as he leaned down and kissed you softly, still holding the smooth skin of your cheeks and jaw. Simon withdrew way too quickly for your liking, breathing deeply as his other hand wound itself into your neck and hair. 

You stared up into the pale face of the man you adored, so open and vulnerable all of a sudden. His thumb trailed over your mouth again as though absentminded, and you stared back as you sucked it in-between your lips for a moment.

His breathing faltered and pupils dilated as your teeth gently nipped into the skin there, tasting, before releasing him again.

"Do you accept my apology?" Simon growled, leaning down towards your ear as he finally allowed his hands to wander, letting them rest on your back and generous butt, squeezing hard and making you gasp. "Because I can't concentrate properly when you're mad at me."

"Hm," you hummed in mock-consideration, arms wrapping around his thick neck and shoulders as you stood on tiptoes and arched your body into his. "I feel like you have to compensate me for the fact that I have to play housewife tonight."

"Oh, is that so?" He murmured, grabbing your behind in both hands before easily lifting you on the kitchen counter, legs wrapping around his middle as your hands played with his short curls. You could feel the hardness hidden beneath the grey sweatpants that were riding low on his hips. "And how can I thank you properly then, my dear wife?"

Chin grabbing makes my brain go brr.

I hope you enjoyed this small chunk of what I imagine being with Simon would be like! If you want to read more COD content, spicy and wholesome, you can find my masterlist here!

Hope everybody is having a great weekend! 🫶🏻 - A ✨

🌙 Requests, prompts and asks are always welcome!

[eviesaurusrex]

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.

[eviesaurusrex]

Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day. 

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view. 

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you. 

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.  

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade. 

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours. 

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad. 

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.  

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.” 

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure. 

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him. 

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps. 

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt. 

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.”  Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” 

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash. 

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet. 

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get. 

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction. 

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops. 

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

[eviesaurusrex]

hii!! i saw ur inbox open and was wondering if i could request this; so, imagine dad!simon (or konig idm!!) having his son / daughter see his face for the first time since they were born and theyre just kinda sitting there like :000?? hes so pretty?? while yn is just screaming in the back?? <33 have a great day n thnaks for reading x

𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, I had such a good time writing this! I love writing dad!Simon so much! ♡ but also, ngl, the image of this big bloke wearing a mask in front of his baby seems borderline comical to me.

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Your daughter finally sees her father's face for the first time.

word count: 2.2k

warning/tag: Mostly just dad!Simon fluff with a little hint of angst. No gendering terms are directly used for the reader, but they are pretty fem coded. It's mentioned that they were pregnant. No use of y/n.

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains of your bedroom, you slowly begin stretching your limbs and blinking away the remnants of sleep. As you slowly settle into wakefulness, you hear the screeching sound of the baby monitor on your nightstand coming to life and you feel how your heart flutters happily in your chest as a familiar sound comes through. The sweet sound of your daughter’s happy coos, accompanied by Simon’s deep, gentle voice, fill the room with sweetness. 

“Morning, sweet pea,” Simon’s voice crackles through the monitor followed by the sound of your baby happily gurgling at her father and then exclaiming a little more whiny sound. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re hungry, but we have to get you changed before we can make breakfast, lovie.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lie there, basking in the warmth and comfort of your bed. The love and joy that echo through the monitor remind you of just how much love fills your home. It’s moments like these that make your heart swell with an indescribable sense of happiness.

Your mind wanders, and you find yourself reminiscing about the journey that brought you here. 

From the moment you and Simon first met, there was an undeniable connection, a spark that ignited and grew into a love that was both fierce and tender. However, it hadn’t been that easy to convince him that he in fact was deserving of such love. He had been scared that he would mess it up, mess you up, convinced himself that he wasn’t able to make anyone happy and that he was broken beyond repair. But you had been rather insisting, and he had finally let his walls crumble and let you into his heart. 

And as you had expected, all his worries had been unfounded. He is the best, most loving partner you could ever have dreamt of. 

The love you share with him is a love that feels like home.

And then, the arrival of your daughter added a new dimension to your love story. From the first time you had held her tiny hand, you knew that your family was complete. Watching Simon transform into the most loving and doting father has only deepened your admiration and affection for him.

And as you lie here,  reminiscing on your life, you can’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the love that surrounds you. 

With a content sigh, you finally pull yourself out of bed, ready to start the weekend with your little family. 

As you make your way down the stairs you can hear the sound of your daughter’s laughter from the kitchen, filling your heart with warmth and you can’t help but smile and make your way towards the source of the joyful commotion. As you enter the room, the morning sun gently illuminates the kitchen, casting a soft glow over the room, and you are greeted by a heartwarming sight. Simon is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of millet porridge, your daughter’s favourite, while she is sitting in her highchair, which has been moved away from the kitchen table and closer to the counter, so she can see what Simon is doing, clapping her hands in delight.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the comforting scent of the porridge. You can’t help but feel a surge of immense love and gratitude for the man who stands before you, effortlessly balancing the roles of partner and father.

Simon turns towards you. “Good morning, love,” he greets you, his eyes twinkling with warmth, the bottom half of his face covered by a black mask. He had started to wear it around the house again after your daughter had been born.  

“Good morning,” you reply, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and adoration. “I see you two are having quite the breakfast party.”

Simon laughs softly and nods. “We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems that someone couldn’t wait,” he says, glancing at your daughter, who just giggles in response.

You walk over to them, planting a soft kiss on Simon’s masked cheek before planting another on your daughter’s, much chubbier, one. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed. This is the best way to wake up,” you say, gazing at your little family with a heart full of love.

Together you finish cooking breakfast, porridge for the baby and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon for you and Simon.

You begin to set the table as Simon picks up your daughter, supporting her with one arm as he settles her on his hip, so he can move her chair back to the table, but before he can grab the chair he stops dead in his tracks.

Your little girl has grabbed a fistful of his mask in her tiny hand. She doesn’t seem to be pulling on it, or otherwise trying to take it off him, but she also doesn’t seem to want to let go of it when Simon gently takes her hand to get her to release her grip.  

“Sweetheart, please…” Simon says softly, but he trails off, a wave of emotions flickering over his eyes, but they end up having a sort of determinant look to them as they lock with his daughter’s.

You feel how your heart skips a beat as Simon lets go of her little hand to instead grip the place his mask is fastened.  

With a deep breath, Simon removes the mask, revealing his face to your daughter for the very first time in her young life. You feel goosebumps rise along your arms as Simon’s features come to light. The room falls silent, and time seems to stand still.

Your daughter’s gaze is fixed on Simon, you can see a whirlwind of emotions flickering across her little face. 

It’s a pivotal moment that holds the power to change everything. You can see how Simon, too, feels a mix of emotions coursing through him. 

He has once mentioned to you that he was afraid that his scars would scare her, but you have had a suspicion that something else might be the reason he has kept the mask on in front of her for. 

He does have a few scars from his work, but they are nowhere near severe enough to scare anyone. You do have another theory to why he has kept it on, one he hasn’t directly confirmed, but a conversation from your pregnancy has stuck with you. 

He had voiced his concern that something would happen to him on the battlefield. not because he was that concerned for his own wellbeing, he knew what the risks of his job was, but because he was afraid of something happening to him, leaving you and your little one alone in the world. He had, on the whole, had many worries about becoming a father. 

He had been worried that his past had broken him so severely that he couldn’t be the dad your daughter needed him to be. Like the fear he also had about you and your relationship in the beginning of it, the fear that he couldn’t be the man you deserved. 

He has, in all the time you’ve known him, done everything to disprove that concern, he is the best partner you could ask for and now the most lovable dad to your little girl, but you know that he still has his concerns and that his feelings about them are valid. 

You think the mask has served as a sort of safety blanket for him. Like he thought that it would be easier for you and your daughter to lose him if your little girl couldn’t remember his face, or something like that. You find that thought heart rending.               

You know that his job comes with a risk, you had known it when you got together and you had known it when you married him and you had known it when you got your daughter. Losing him on the battlefield would be your worst nightmare come true. You know that he is smart, strong and capable, but you also know that there are no guarantees in war, which, to you, is just all the more reason for  your daughter to know her father’s face, but you have let Simon choose for himself when he was ready for that.  

But you don’t want to think about any of that right now, so you push those thoughts away, and instead let yourself be completely mesmerised by the sight before you   

Your little girl focuses on his, now revealed, face, taking in every detail. Her eyes widening in surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of fear, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she absorbs every detail of her father’s face. 

“It’s just me, princess,” Simon tells her, his voice filled with a mix of amusement, nerves and an overwhelming love for his little girl. His eyes, once guarded, now shine with warmth and affection. 

The confirmation of his voice is what convinces her. A wide smile spread across her little face, revealing the adorable dimples she has inherited from Simon, on her sweet, chubby cheeks. She lets out a happy squeal, as she realises that it really is her father who’s now smiling down at her, a set of dimples matching hers on his cheeks.    

She giggles happily, which, to you, is the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Her little hands starting to explore Simon’s face, her tiny fingers tracing the lines and contours of it. It’s a gentle and tender gesture that speaks volumes. You watch in awe as the beautiful moment between your daughter and her father unfolds in front of you. It’s a moment you will cherish forever. 

When she finally seems satisfied with her mapping of his face with her small hand, she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face, one that conveys something along the lines of ‘you seeing this too?’ Her eyes lighting up, reflecting the genuine joy that fills her little heart.

“Yeah, baby, that’s your daddy,” you smile at her, and she lets out another happy shriek before looking back at Simon again, happily nuzzling her little face into his neck. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You continue as you step forward, placing a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles over the dusty rose bodystocking that she is wearing, one that Simon picked out when he got her ready and you still laid in bed.   

You look up at Simon, a soft smile on his lips as your eyes lock. 

“He never wants to believe me when I tell him, but he is actually the most handsome man I know,” you say, with a playful glint in your eyes. “He’s probably the most handsome man in the whole world, actually.”           

Simon chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Oh, come on now,” he replies, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement.“I think you might be a bit biassed there, love.”

You shake your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Nah, I don’t think I am,” you state, wrapping your arms around both Simon and your little girl in his arms. “Just stating facts. I actually got the most handsome husband and the most beautiful daughter in the whole wide world.” you say with a content sigh, hugging your little family tightly.  

It’s a hug that speaks volumes, conveying love, affection and acceptance. In this embrace, you know that you truly have the most beautiful family in the world.  

As you finally let go of them you place a sweet kiss on your daughter’s little nose. She giggles joyfully, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over what a happy little girl you have. Simon seems to be thinking the same as he smiles down at her.  

But your adorable little troublemaker doesn’t seem to be done with causing havoc yet.   

She reaches out her tiny hand and grabs for the mask again. Simon hesitates for a moment, looking down at the fabric in his hand, the symbol of his past, before letting her have it. The mask, once a symbol of his doubts and fears, now becomes a simple toy for your daughter as she happily shakes it up and down, a cheeky grin on her little face. 

You and Simon lock eyes, and then the two of you burst out in laughter.  

As your laughter fills the room, a sense of pure joy washes over you. You look at Simon, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and you know in this moment, that the love and bond the three of you share is unbreakable, and it fills your heart with an indescribable warmth.

With a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, you take a mental snapshot of this beautiful moment. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in your mind, a testament to the strength of your love and the joy that radiates from your little girl.

As the laughter subsides, you gather your family close again, embracing the love and happiness that surrounds you. In this embrace, you know that you have everything you could ever need.

Your daughter’s laughter and Simon’s unwavering love fill your life with immeasurable happiness, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the beautiful family you have created.