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#simon ghost riley fluff
i-am-hungry-24-7 · 1 day
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Wait until i got you in my hands (or in this case under my jaw 🦈)
Anyway since you're asking fluff for Simon (and i hope you don't twist it in the end because I'll trust you for this once and you're not Chucky), what about Simon having cuteness aggression, everybody? Mmhm you have chubby face and it's undeniable fact that they sometimes look like dumpling or steamed buns. Just Simon can't keep his hands from touching or pinching your cheeks, and even better if he also bit them.
mercy plss sharkieeee 🦈 as always ty for the ideas tho 💖 happy to see u again!!!
Simon loves your chubby and adorable face
1.
“What Simon? Why you keep staring at me?”
“dumplings”
“what dumplings?”
“your cheeks.”
“huh?...SIMON STOP CHEWING MY CHEEK—$;@/!@;&”
2.
You two are lying on your shared bed. You’re facing him and scrolling your phone, too concentrated on the fanfic you’re reading that you haven’t notice Simon’s gaze on your face.
“...” you expression’s same as straight face emoji when your lover abruptly pinches your cheeks.
“sorry.” he says without any apology in his tone while kneading your cheeks.
“My face isn’t mochi, Simon.”
“I know.”
“Then can you stop rubbing them like they are?”
“No.”
3.
A nice Sunday morning, peaceful, and you leisurely walk to the living room, expecting seeing Simon there as usual.
“Good morning, baby.” You greet him immediately when you see his figure, his back’s facing you, seeming busy doing something.
“Hey, love.” He gives you a kiss on your cheek like he always do, but he sounds a bit of excited today.
“What do we have for breakfast?”
“I make a you.”
“What does that mean?”
You lean closer to him when he hands you the plate.
“This is you.”
“...”
You don’t even want to argue when you see two little buns are placing at each side of a smiling face egg that’s grinning at you.
4.
Simon gets kicked out to buy the groceries after the breakfast.
“He better remember to buy some ice cream for me” You mumble.
Well, he does keep that in mind when he comes back an hour later.
“Got you some ice creams.” Simon tells you while fishing them out under your expecting eyes.
“New brand?” You pick up the carton when you can’t recognize the brand of it.
“...Simon.”
“It looks like you, it’s cute.” He doesn’t forget to give your cheeks a few pokes whilst you staring at the rabbit mascot on the box with two obviously chubby cheeks.
5.
(later, Simon texting)
Ghost: Soap, how to apologize to your partner
Soap: what did you do to them LT.?
Ghost: I just showed my love to their cheeks
Soap: Not you anger them with same reason again
Soap: Send some cute pictures to them and buy them some snacks?
Ghost: Can I send this?
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Soap: I guess you just want to die, LT.
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dmitriene · 2 days
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thinking about retired simon riley who devoted the rest of his life to religion, his life is full of gnawing darkness that constantly suffocates him with it's cold hands at night, and the last straw that pushed him to leave for a monastery was the death of his close companion, his mate, johnny.
he had been to monasteries and churches before, only back then they were abandoned — dusty, with shards of multi colored glass from beautiful shattered vitrages, sparkling on the floor with defective drawings, because in war there is no place for beauty and no place for holy.
but they always soothed simon in the same way, a place where he didn't even want to speak, and where one of the many dusty benches kept his imprint where he sat.
arriving at the monastery just after he left the army, simon felt a sense of calm for the first time in his long life — no nightmares, no biting guilt that had always dwelt inside him and haunted him since his youth, only a pleasantly, tingling calm.
there was no longer any need to hide himself from the world behind a thick black cloth decorated with a skull, something that had been forgotten together with his past identity.
and then, simon met you.
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with a clear, shiny gaze, fluttering eyelashes through which you looked at him with sweet, polite smiles, not even knowing what you were doing to him.
all your attention, fleeting touches, and fragile apologies when you accidentally did something wrong, forbidden in relation to the monastery rules — left simon's heart beating even faster than during the shootouts in his past.
and he'd swear he'd never seen anyone more angelic, the sun's rays seemed to play on your skin, the dark fabric of your robe was fluttering at your feet, but you looked far more wonderful in the fabric of your light nightie in the middle of the night, sitting on the window of your monastic cell.
a temptation, which fell into his calloused hands.
with lips sweeter than the grapes from which the monastery made wine, with skin softer than any feathers and silk, with quiet giggles that you muffled behind your palm or against his mouth.
with your frail body on his lap, which he greedily outlined and clutched with his hands, locked with you in the library where your blushing body would be sprawled on a dark wooden table, dark robes pulled up to the curve of your waist so that simon could slot himself between your supple thighs.
could bury himself in your warm, sopping mound — nudge his meaty cockhead against your weeping entrance, bottom out slowly so the gooey walls of your sweet cunt could hug his dribbling cock and drown him in.
in monasteries, to abstain from sex is a necessity in order to reach enlightenment, but simon believes that by being balls deep inside of you, while listening to your melodious gasps and moans — he is more than enlightened.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.
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ghostly-whiskey · 10 days
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simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.
and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.
bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.
your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.
you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.
again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!
and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:
p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.
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rileyslibrary · 3 months
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After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.
A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!
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A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.
“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”
You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.
You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.
“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”
The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.
“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.
“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”
“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”
“Where am I?” You ask.
“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”
Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.
“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”
“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”
“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”
“Several.” He nods.
“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”
“It’s your job, love.” He replies.
“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”
“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”
“I was really worr—”
“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”
“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.
“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”
“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”
“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”
“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”
“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”
“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”
“Can he?”
“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”
“Is he that good?” He asks.
“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”
“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”
“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.
The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.
“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”
“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”
“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”
“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”
“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”
“Even then.” You confirm.
“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”
“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”
“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”
“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”
“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”
“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”
“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”
“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.
“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.
“What did he lie about?”
“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”
“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”
“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.
“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”
“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”
“How is she?” You ask.
“Perfect.” He states.
“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”
“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.
“Do you love her?” You ask.
“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”
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peppermint-toads · 3 months
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“simon? what the fuck is this?”
your tone came out a bit more harsh than intended, but you couldn’t help it. you were quite nearly blackout drunk.
“mac and cheese,” he said simply, still holding out the bowl towards you. “like you asked for.”
he was being generous. you essentially demanded it as you stumbled through the door.
“mac me a cheese.”
he got the gist.
“no, simon. mac and cheese is not green.”
simon had been with you most of the day, and you didn’t ingest a single vegetable. so, he took matters into his own hands, deciding to add some broccoli into your mac and cheese.
even though he knew he might be seeing it again later, still worth a shot.
“broccoli, love. eat it.”
you scrunched your nose. drunk you did not feel like eating broccoli. you shoved the bowl away. “wont taste the same.” you decided.
simon was confused, to say the least. you liked broccoli. he was doing you a favor. your body needed fuel especially after the havoc he’s sure you wreaked.
he sighed.
“eat it and i’ll take you to sephora tomorrow.”
you perked up at that, skeptically eyeing the bowl again.
“mkay,” you slurred. “one bite. and you’re buying me whateverrrrr i want.”
simon hummed, knowing you’d forget about all about it by morning.
“morning, si.” you greeted him as he stirred awake, watching you in the mirror as you put your earring in. he expected you to be in a much worse state.
“what are you getting ready for?” he asked, closing his eyes again.
“don’t you remember? we’re going shopping.”
he’s not sure when one store turned into “shopping,” but he’d never deny you anything.
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ghostlywhiskey · 3 months
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simon who stands still when he sees you for the first time. any words being spoken to him goes in one ear and out the other. eyes fixate on you while you sit at a table with friends, the moment he had caught sight of you was when you laughed at one of your friends; a hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth. if it wasn't for the balaclava covering the majority of his face, the way his lips parted would be another indication of how you captured his attention.
part of him knew how alarming it may be if you were to catch his gaze at you. his stature and demeanor not welcoming, so he quickly shifted his gaze away from you. fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle. excusing himself from the rest, he shuffled his way through the bar to make his way to the bathroom. after a few moments and splashing water on his face to recompose himself, as he pulled open the door to head back out he stopped in the doorway.
standing there, you glanced up at the large figure across from you as you waited for the women's bathroom to become unoccupied. despite the mask covering his face, his eyes eased any discomfort you might have felt.
"sorry, i took a bit," simon mumbled out, moving to head out of the doorway.
you couldn't help but reach your hand up as a small giggle left your body. simon's body stilled at your response, watching as you laughed, part of him confused and the other part feeling his cheeks warm.
"i'm wating for the women's bathroom," a smile formed on your face, the hand that had covered your laughter pointed to the bathroom with the figure in a dress on the door. his lips parted again for a second time that night, an 'o' forming on his lips that could vaguely be noticed through the mask.
"right," simon nodded, quickly trying to cover up his stupid comment. "just thought if you had to really go you could sneak in the men's bathroom."
"i think i'll wait for women's bathroom. probably a bit cleaner, yeah?" you joked, trying to brush away the embarrassment you could sense from him.
simon nodded, not wanting to make a fool out of himself again by speaking anymore than he should. "right," he repeated the word from moments before. "well, have a good night." excusing himself, he headed back to the rest of the guys. when asked what took him so long, he brushed it off. but to the rest, it became painfully obvious the lieutenant had himself a little crush.
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secretlovezz · 6 months
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Simon coming home to you cuddled up into yourself on the couch, reading a book that looks like it has at least five hundred pages (he doesn't know how you do it), and wearing his clothes.
You're wearing his clothes.
You're wearing his clothes.
Something surges through his large frame and he realizes just how in love with you he is, how much he adores having this domestic life with you when he returns home. His hands start to shake and suddenly he's moving quickly to discard his boots from his feet and his jacket from his broad shoulders.
You look up from the pages you had been briefly lost in to see your lover as he walks closer to you. Your smile is bright at the sight of him and he swears his heart starts beating impossibly fast in his chest, you always made him feel like a teenager falling in love every time he was close to you.
"Hi baby," Simon tries to hide the way his lips twitch upwards at the sound of your voice. You close your book move it to the side and reach your arms out toward him. His shoulders shake with a silent chuckle at your grabby hands aimed at him.
When he reaches you he practically melts into your body. You're devastatingly warm against his cold exposed skin and he audibly groans at the feeling of being pressed against you.
You wordlessly move your hands to the base of his neck to remove his balaclava then run your fingers through his hair making an effort to scratch at his scalp which only has him groaning again.
"Ya look good in my clothes," He whispers into the crook of your neck his lips brush gently against your skin and it makes you shiver.
"Mm knew you'd like that," your voice is filled with amusementand you smirk.
His head pops up to look into your eyes and he glares but the smallest of smiles grace his scarred lips.
"Don't go teasin'," you laugh a soft laugh and he relaxes back into you.
He loves this, just being with you. It makes everything worth it the hours of grueling work just so he could get home to you, his little dove.
And for some reason, seeing you in his clothes makes it all the better.
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marzylics · 3 months
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Going to a bar with Simon "if you dare say anything about my girl ill fucking kill you" Riley is always a fun experience.
He has his arm wrapped around you almost the entire time until you told him your going to get some more drinks add he lets you go. As your waiting for your drinks a guy walks up to you "hey gorgeous" he smiled "what a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" he asked
You try to make as much distance as possible between you and the guy. "im not alone" you say
"Are you sure" he says filling the gap between you two "im really good company" he say getting to close for comfort
You turn your head around to look for Simon not seeing him anywhere makes you nervous. Until you feel his familiar arm around you waist "she said she isn't alone" he said to the guy. Simon nearly doubled him height "get lost" Simon spat
The man quickly ran away from you and him leaving the bar. "Are you ok" Simon asks you
"Im fine" you replied to him
He wraps his arms around you pulling you into a tight hug "im so sorry" he says "I shouldn't have left you" he said kissing the top of your head
"its not your fault si" you say reassuring him
"You wanna leave now" he asks you
"Yeah" you answer "thank you si"
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ghostedcas · 7 months
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imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose
okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."
thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH
simon 'ghost' riley x reader
wc: 563
warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)
a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3
a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?
simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.
so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.
looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.
"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.
"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.
"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.
"i'm taken."
"i know." you replied with a short laugh.
"you should be touching me like that then."
it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.
"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"
"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.
"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.
sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.
"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.
you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.
"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.
"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.
simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."
you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.
you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.
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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 1 day
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💥slams into your room like a ragoll
Some fluff idea for you, with Simon
Simon, who loved discovering new things about you, whether it was the way your eyes crinkled more than other smiles when you were super excited to share something, something you'd hyperfixate on for the next four months or so, or the way your giggles gave you away before you could even tell him the story.
So how about writing this, he leans about the lil nose scrunches you do when he kisses the tip of your nose today…and he starts kissing more all over your face just to find out what else you do at certain places he kiss, sending you into a giggling blushing mess :3
- ya not so suspicious panda 🐼
you better repair my door u evil panda
A whole bag of sugar’s been added into this drabble
Simon Exploring Your Cute Reactions
Simon’s in love with your little reactions, hence discovering new things from you is his daily mission.
Like how you accidentally added salt instead of sugar into your tea yesterday, and stuck your tongue out when the unexpected saltiness hit you.
or how you yelled out his name in a hurried tone, and as he rushed to check if you were alright, it was just you showing him the flower you tried to grow finally had a little bud after countless times of failure.
He sometimes wonders why you have so many different expressions, but he sees this part of you as a treasure chest, providing sparkles of anticipation to his life.
Now Simon sits on the couch, with you sitting on his lap, reading the ‘For Plant Killers: how to keep a plant without needing a brain’ book. He looks at you burying your face in the pages with a serious frown, the urge to kiss you is too difficult for him to resist.
“Oh!” You let out a little squeak as you raise your head from the book, eyes wide with curiosity, like a surprised bunny, his mind notes it as he plants another kiss on the tip of your nose.
“Hey, what you doing?” Your little nose scrunches at the touch, triggering his enjoyment with how cute you’re doing it.
Simon just shakes his head, and continues exploring.
Another kiss lands on your eyelid this time, your feather-like eyelashes flutter as you giggle at the itchy feeling.
“Stop you silly man, what are you doing?” You catch his cheeks between your palms after he gives your temple a kiss that lasts longer.
You’re a blushing mess right now, face inches from his, so he’s able to take a good look at the pink smears across your face, making you more vivid and splendid.
“Researching.” He shrugs.
“Well, now’s my time to do some research.”
The chuckles are unstoppable as you start your revenge, from the brushing of your lips at his jawline, a open mouth kiss on his face, to the light pecks at his freckles.
“Not so composed now, huh?” A devious grin plays on your glossy lips when you take a rest from your attacks, looking at him with joy-glinting eyes.
He knows his face is red like an apple now, he can sense the heat gathering at his cheeks, but in front of you, there’s no need to hide his true emotions. Not to mention, he’s on the cusp of victory, since the ace card for this cheeky game of you two is between his fingers.
“Do you remember to water your plant today?”
“oh shit!” Realization strikes you like lightning. You jump off his lap, leaving Simon a glimpse of your hasty figure as you disappear behind the corner.
Tons of discoveries today, he licks his chops while taking a sip from the lukewarm tea.
What will he find tomorrow? He leans back and taps unconsciously at your book. You’re like a mystery bag, he doesn’t think he’s able to guess what’s inside, but hey, your priceless demeanors are worth spending time exploring, and he’s already looking forward to tomorrow’s investigation.
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dmitriene · 15 days
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helping simon to dye his hair, dark strands tangled with your fingers as you apply light hair dye evenly, brown eyes watching your every emotion as he squirms slightly on the chair, causing you to deliberately roll your hips and frown at him, his thick fingers flexing at your lush hips.
you cockwarm him, tight little panties pushed to the side so simon would be able to nestle his leaking, erect cock inside your gummy walls, relishing in the softness and content with feeling of your warm pussy gripping him tightly.
it makes him relax, to say the truth, not fidgeting much and letting you peacefully continue your task of dying his slightly overgrown hair, each gentle roll of your hips and small bouncing up and down his length, making his meaty cock all sloppy for you to glide on, makes simon more pliant.
he grunts quietly, brown gaze half lidded with infinite affection as he looks at your every move, light eyelashes fluttering prettily as his calloused fingers knead the plushess of your hips, rubbing up and down to your thighs, as you almost finish with your work.
it's good, to have you this close, with occasional soft kisses pressed either against his forehead or crooked nose, making simon almost purr out of the pure pleasure.
simon's body tingles pleasantly all over when he feels that you continued applying the blonde color on his hair, combing all of his hair back for greater comfort, as he busies himself in stealing couple of slow, long thrusts inside your sloppy cunt.
his cock brushes against your spongy spots messily, fat tip brushing the right place deliciously, and you let simon have his fun with an light mewl slipping past your lips — one that he swallows greedily with his lips on yours.
you both just better not overexpose the hair dye on his hair, or there will be even more work to deal with.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.
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zorobraun · 7 months
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simon can’t help but touch himself when he’s away from you :(
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“look who’s finally picking up my call.” you say in a sarcastic playful tone. he just chuckles quietly, and you can almost tell that he’s rolling his eyes right now. “don’t be needy, love. you’re acting as if i don’t pick up all of your fifty calls a day.” simon replies in a sarcastic playful tone as well, teasing you slightly. this time, you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling at his silly statement anyway. he’s silly, but he’s your silly. and you miss him so fucking much.
“you don’t give me attention anymore, babe. all you care about is being a tough guy, a strong soldier, an idiot who risks his own life for fun.” you tease him back as you lean your back against the headboard of simon’s bed. there’s a hint of neediness in your voice that makes him sigh heavily, as if he can’t wait to come back home and stuff your mouth full of his cock so you can stop complaining all the time. all you do is whine about his absence.
“are you laying on my bed right now, baby?” simon asks you, hearing the light squeaking of the bed whenever you move your body. “yeah, why?” you shrug, putting your phone on the nightstand and pressing the speaker button on the screen. you sigh lazily, laying down completely on his side of the bed, because it smells like him. you close your eyes for a second, breathing calmly. simon licks his lips quickly, adjusting himself on the chair of his room.
his door is locked and he can’t help but get horny just with the sound of your slow and lazy breathing. it kind of reminds him of the way you breathe when he wakes you up by being in between your legs. simon’s mind starts to wander and before he could think twice, his cock is out of his trousers and his hand is stroking it slightly, trying to not wake you up on the other side of the line. the thought of you almost begging to be fucked and to be given a little attention makes him pick up his pace and almost cum on the spot, but he controls himself.
simon begins to breathe heavily, his grunting and panting are noises that you can recognize from afar, and it wakes you up from your half-sleep. “what are you doing?” you ask him in a sleepy but teasing voice, sitting on the bed as you realize that your boyfriend is a freak. your voice and your teasing tone just makes him ten times harder as he keeps stroking himself at a fast pace. “keep talking, princess. i’m so close.” he breathes out, groaning quietly. you swallow hard, getting turned on with this whole situation.
“i really miss you, simon.” you say in a quiet whisper, your tone is so soft and needy that it makes simon’s cock throb in his hand. you really miss him and sometimes he has no idea at all of how much you suffer without him. however, right now, he’s not thinking of you in a romantic way whatsoever, and it almost pisses him off that you’re not quite matching his attitude at the moment. the way you’re so head over heels for him turns him on anyway, though.
he’s so in love with you that he doesn’t mind your naïve persona, and whatever you say will make him cum either way, just because he loves you so much and he can’t wait to come back home to you and do whatever he wants with you. “i miss you too, pretty baby. i can’t wait to come back home and fuck my little princess real nice and slow, make her feel every inch of me, just how she likes it.” simon breathes out again, he sounds so breathy right now, as if he’s one stroke away to cumming on his hand. “promise to be waiting for me on my bed with your legs spread when i arrive?” he adds, moaning quietly.
“y-yes.”
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rileyslibrary · 17 days
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The elderly lady who owns the convenience store in Simon’s neighbourhood needs help with a faulty fridge. You tag along with Simon and discover more about him than you ever expected.
A/N: Fluff. Cosy read.
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“It’s right there,” Simon says, pointing down the street. “Just need to take care of something quickly.”
You follow his outstretched arm to a convenience store nestled on the corner. Furrowing your brows, you glance back at the street you had just walked down, spotting Simon’s house. It’s very close, you think to yourself. Maybe a three-minute walk away.
That’s weird. You’ve taken that same road to and from Simon’s house many times, yet this is the first time you’ve noticed the store.
Turning your attention back, you look closer at your destination. No wonder you never paid much attention to it. The store seems old and rather inconspicuous, blending into its surroundings seamlessly. Everything is understated, from the building to its decor—if you could even call it that. To the left of the entrance, there’s a stand of old magazines, and on the right, a table with two chairs catches your eye. You glance up at the sign above the entrance.
“Mary Mart,” you read aloud.
“That’s right,” Simon confirms, opening the door and triggering a bell to jingle. “Mary should be inside.”
He holds the door open for you, yet his gaze remains fixed on something inside the store. You step in and follow his line of sight to a lady holding a newspaper up to her face. That must be Mary, you presume.
“You alright, Mary?” Simon asks softly.
Yup, that’s definitely her. The newspaper covers most of Mary’s petite frame as she sits behind the counter. She seems so absorbed by her reading that she didn’t hear you come in.
Simon sighs and shakes his head. He gently taps the back of the newspaper to get her attention. Mary lowers the paper to her nose, and her face lights up immediately at the sight of Simon.
“Didn’t see you there!” Mary shouts, lowering the newspaper to the counter. “You alright, my dear?”
“Yes, Mary,” he murmurs, “neither did you see nor hear us.”
“What?” Mary asks, letting go of the newspaper and cupping her ear.
Simon taps his own ear, indicating that Mary needs to adjust her earpiece. Mary’s eyes widen, and she quickly follows Simon’s lead, turning her earpiece on. She gives him a nod.
“Better now?” Simon asks.
“Much, much better,” Mary confirms, then turns to you with a broader smile. “And who do we have here?”
You politely nod, introducing yourself to Mary, but Simon interjects before you say much.
“So tell me, Mary,” He says, glancing towards the back of the store where the fridges are, “which one’s acting up?”
“Oh, I can’t remember, dear, but it’s hard to miss it,” Mary replies, sighing. “It’s the one with the towels underneath. Keeps dripping water.”
Simon nods, his gaze still focused on the fridges. He begins heading towards the back of the store, and you instinctively follow behind him.
“How lovely of you, Simon,” Mary’s voice sounds from behind you. “Bringing me some company while you take care of that fridge.”
You stop in your tracks, and Simon does, too. Point taken, Mary. You glance towards Simon, and he gives you a nod.
“She’s harmless,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “And a pretty nice lady.”
“Don’t be long.” You whisper back. “We still need to go get some breakfast.”
Simon nods and continues to the back of the store. With a sigh, you return to the counter where Mary is and settle into a nearby chair.
“Anything newsworthy?” You ask.
“Nothing much, dear,” Mary replies, adjusting her newspaper. “The weather’s terrible, the economy’s getting worse, and people won’t stop killing each other.”
“Oh...” you murmur, “yeah, that’s bad.”
“Well, at least Boots has 20% off on all moisturizers,” she announces, slightly more enthusiastically than one might expect for moisturizers. She picks a pair of scissors from under the counter and starts snipping the voucher.
With Mary on a mission to get that 20% off of that newspaper, you take the opportunity to peek at Simon. He’s kneeling in front of the fridge at the back of the store, focused on the appliance. Occasionally, his brow slightly furrows as he inspects the faulty machine. Then he pauses, nods, and grabs tools or shifts his position to get a better look at it. You, on the other hand, have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you care. You are hungry and caffeine-deprived. You’re pretty sure Simon feels the same way.
Meanwhile, Mary has finished cutting through the voucher and returned to her reading. She often flips through the pages and snaps the newspaper to straighten it and remove wrinkles. Sometimes, she hums, acknowledging her current read. Other times, she clicks her tongue disapprovingly at whatever news she comes across.
And you? Well, you’re bored out of your mind, so you begin scanning the shelves and displays, taking in the assortment of merchandise neatly arranged throughout the store. Your eyes briefly pause on various items—a stack of magazines, a display of snacks, a row of household essentials—before finally settling on an old photograph hanging behind Mary.
In the photograph, a young man wearing a military uniform stands confidently. He appears to be in his late twenties and sports a well-kept moustache. Rather than looking straight ahead, his gaze seems to be directed right behind you. He looks confident. Strong. He feels present, even if he’s not here.
“Handsome, huh?” Mary asks, peering over her glasses before turning towards the picture behind her. “That’s my Walter right there.”
You clear your throat and nod. “Very handsome indeed,” you confirm. “Is he your husband?”
“Was,” Mary corrects with a wistful smile, her eyes drifting back to you. “My very first and last one.”
“Which war?” you ask, gesturing towards his uniform.
“You mean which war he served in or which war he died in?”
“Both,” you shrug.
“Served in too many,” she says proudly, lowering her gaze to her newspaper. “But the war my Walter lost had no guns or weapons.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
Mary looks up from her newspaper, meeting your eyes with a tilt of her head and a warm smile.
“Coffee?” she offers but doesn’t let you respond. She has already turned her back to you, brewing a fresh pot.
“No, thank you,” you reply. “We intend to grab some on our way to breakf-”
“I don’t think Simon will finish anytime soon, dear,” she interjects.
“Then yes, please,” you reply, then mouth a silent ‘shit’ to yourself so that Mary doesn’t hear you. You peek once more at the back of the store where Simon is.
“He’s handsome as well, isn’t he?” Mary states, with her back still turned towards you.
You blush at Mary’s observation and look down at the gum assortment in front of the counter. “Yes,” you agree, nodding with a smile. “Yes, he is.”
“Met at the base?” She asks, pouring you a cup of coffee.
“You know where we work?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“It takes one to know one, dear,” she says, turning towards you and handing you a cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”
“No, thanks,” you reply. “So you also served in the military?”
Mary’s expression shifts, her face lighting up as she lifts her index finger.
“Serve!” she exclaims, “Silly me; I forgot to serve the biscuits!”
She retrieves a plate covered with tin foil from below the counter and uncovers it, pushing the platter towards you. You politely decline, thanking her for the offer. But Mary insists.
“I made them myself,” she tells you warmly.
“And I’m sure they taste lovely, but-”
“Take the biscuit,” Mary commands sternly, yet still smiling.
You look up at her, and without looking back at the plate, you take a biscuit. You don’t know which one you picked, what flavour it is, or if there are any allergens in it. Mary’s assertiveness is enough to make you pop it right into your mouth.
Her smile widens. “Good?” she asks.
The biscuit is indeed good. Very good. But even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t dare say otherwise—not only out of respect for Mary’s age but also because something tells you she might have more experience than the convenience store owner she portrays herself to be.
“They are amazing, Mary,” you reply and swallow.
“Simon likes those too,” she states proudly. “I often bring some over when I bake them.”
“So you live nearby?” You ask, swallowing another bite of the biscuit.
“I’m his landlord,” Mary reveals, nudging the plate of biscuits closer to you, “help yourself to another.”
You oblige and take another biscuit, and Mary continues once you take a bite.
“So,” she begins, blowing the steam off her coffee, “I’ve seen you plenty of times in my neighbourhood.”
“I, um,” you lift one shoulder and idly pick up a pack of chewing gum from the assortment in front of you. “I do come by often.”
“I know,” she replies, sipping her coffee. “You’ve been passing by my store a lot lately.”
You subtly turn your head towards Simon’s direction, letting your hair fall to the side of your face to conceal your blushing cheeks from Mary’s view. Yet she doesn’t seem to let go.
“He’s a good lad,” Mary states. Always there when neighbours need him, ready to lend a hand.”
“Indeed, he’s very good with his hands.” You reply.
“You know best, my dear,” Mary remarks, smirking.
“I meant with fixing things!” You say, widening your eyes. “He’s good with his hands when it comes to fixing things!”
Mary chuckles knowingly. “He’s also quite popular with the ladies—both the single and the taken ones,” she continues.
“Oh, is he now?” You respond in a high-pitched voice, narrowing your eyes. You turn your body towards Mary, placing the chewing gum package back in its original position.
“Yes,” she confirms, leaning over the counter. “Simon never rejects the attention, being such a good-looking lad, but at the same time, he never reciprocates.”
“How do you know he doesn’t reciprocate?”
“Oh, you’d be impressed what people say in front of an old lady who, allegedly, forgets to switch her earpiece on.” She says, winking at you.
“So, women flirt with him, huh?”
Mary throws her head back and chuckles, flicking her wrist at you. “Oh please, my dear,” she says in between chuckles, “I would have practically done the same if I was fifty years younger and Walter wasn’t around.”
“And he doesn’t flirt back?” You ask.
“No, not really, but he used to be friendly with them.” She explains, tilting her head toward you. “And then something changed.”
You shift in your seat and lean forward. “What?” You ask, intrigued. “What changed?”
Mary leans closer, sliding the biscuit platter toward you.
“Mary, I should probably lay off the biscuits,” you say. “We’re supposed to be heading out for breakfast, remember?”
“Make it a brunch, dear, or whatever you young people call it nowadays,” she replies. “Simon won’t be fixing the fridge anytime soon.”
“How do you know?” you ask. “You just said he’s great at fixing things.”
“Not when there’s nothing wrong with the fridge in the first place.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your brows.
“I detached the defrost drain to simulate water leakage,” she explains. “It’s an easy fix, but you can oversee it quite easily, especially when the fridge is as old as I am.”
“You tinkered with the fridge on purpose?” you ask, eyes wide with surprise. “Why?”
“Oh please,” she sighs, rolling her eyes, “I had to bring you both here somehow.”
You glance at the cookie platter. Understanding that you won’t get any more information from Mary unless you indulge, you grab another cookie and pop it into your mouth. Mary, the ‘insert-biscuit-here-to-continue’ lady, takes the cue and continues.
“And then, as I was saying, you began to visit more often,” she explains, glancing over at Simon. “And his reaction to all the attention shifted.”
“You need to elaborate a little bit more, Mary,” you press. “How exactly did it change?”
“Girlfriend!” she exclaims in a hushed tone, widening her eyes at you. “He says he has a girlfriend!”
You widen your eyes, just like her, and point at yourself. She nods and points back at you.
“And then there’s the toothbrush,” she continues. “He bought two! A green one and a pink one.”
“He gave me a pink toothbrush when I stayed over for the first time!” you whisper. “Said he’d bought it ages ago and forgotten about it!”
“He bought a pink toothbrush as a spare for himself?” She asks, and her eyes narrow. “Nonsense! It wasn’t too long ago, and I have the receipts.”
“You keep receipts for these things, Mary?”
“No, silly,” she shakes her head. “It’s for tax purposes.”
“Right, so, I’m the girlfriend apparently,” you murmur, massaging your temples. “But why are you telling me all this?”
“Simon isn’t much of a talker, dear,” Mary explains, her tone softening. “Not to mention the horrors he’s been through. Sometimes, you might even misunderstand him because of it. But I’ve known him for a long time. He’s like family to me. Sometimes, when words fail him, I feel the need to speak on his behalf.”
“So you’re looking out for him,” you conclude, slowly nodding.
“Like the child I never had,” Mary confirms with a warm smile, pouring another cup of coffee. “And I can see how much he cares about you. But he’s not always good at expressing it. That’s why I thought I’d give you a little hint.”
“Thank you, Mary,” you say. “I appreciate you looking out for us.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she says, handing you the extra coffee. “Now, how about you go over there and tell Simon to take a break? You can use the chairs outside while I go and reattach the defrost drain to the fridge.”
“Sure thing,” you reply and grab the coffee. “I just have one more question.”
“Go ahead,” she says.
“If Simon asks me what we’ve been talking about, what should I tell him?”
“Tell him I was rambling about the weather, the economy, and the 20% voucher from Boots,” she suggests, winking. “You’re a smart girl; that’s why he picked you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
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peppermint-toads · 3 months
Text
thinking about the night simon riley decides to retire.
well, not retire retire. but retire from fieldwork.
you’re in his bed, cheek pressed into his pillow and facing him while you slept.
you were wearing his t shirt, of course, like he always insisted. your skin was still a little flush from riding the ever loving soul out of him earlier, but you looked peaceful.
he steadied his hand as much as possible and stroked your hair from your face. he mostly just liked touching you in any capacity at all times. liked to think you could feel it even when you were asleep.
he felt something new in his stomach that night though, as he allowed his thoughts of you to drift into a more serious territory.
he’d figured out a couple months ago that he did, in fact, love you. and now he was ready to show you.
the more time he spent away from you, the more he realized how done he was with constantly being on the brink of death. he finally had something to live for and come home to.
he’d call price first thing in the morning.
little did price know, he’d been waiting for that call. he had a sneaking suspicion that simon had met someone. especially when he came to the pub smelling like miss dior.
that perfume was a gift from simon himself, thank you very much.
and simon was well off, set for life after years of being in the military and nothing to do with the money. price insisted simon could just quit for good, but simon still wanted to work in some capacity.
they settled on simon taking some time off, seeing how the life suits him. then they would discuss a position on base.
price knew simon would never return to the task force, and was damn glad he wouldn’t.
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springtyme · 6 months
Note
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
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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.
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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.
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secretlovezz · 7 months
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Simon with an s/o who has a cat
Prt.2 here! <-
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He hates your cat 😭
Their literally mortal enemies it's ridiculous
The cat glares at Simon 24/7 and he stares right back
You finally make it home after a stressful day at work ready to shower and relax. You open the front door and call out, "I'm home!" You get no response. It makes your brows furrow in confusion, having been used to a little furry friend lying on your unused shoes waiting for you to get home or hearing the heavy steps of your boyfriend making his way toward you. But today there was no welcome wagon for you.
Your heart immediately racks in worry the once steady beat of it moving to an unnaturally quick pace. Your hands move faster to remove your shoes and jacket wanting to look for the person and cat that once populated your apartment.
You call out again, "Simon? My Baby?"
"In here, dove." At the sound of your lover's voice, you're on the move heading to where his voice had been most prominent.
When you get to Simon- in the bathroom -he's clad in only a towel water still dripping from his hair and body and condensation on the mirror signifying he's just gotten out of the shower. Then your gaze goes to his face and his eyes aren't on you they're focused on something on the counter.
Your cat.
They're staring at each other both of them refusing to look away from one another. They were barely blinking. Then you realize why Simon's having a glaring contest with your pet, it's because the cat was on his clothes refusing to move out of pure stubbornness.
Suddenly you're glaring at the both of them too, "Are you guys being serious right now? This is getting ridiculous," you tell them and with Simon's response you roll your eyes and walk away.
"Oh, this is deadly serious, love"
Sometimes when Simon walks by your cat it latches onto Simon's leg kicking and biting the shit out of him (your poor boyfriend is just about ready to chuck the cat into outer space)
Your little fur baby definitely steals or tries to steal food from Simon's plates. Simon swears the cat gets stronger when determined to get into his stuff
Simon's cups have been knocked off of tables more often then not being left to clean up a mess that isn't his
Your looking up from your plate of food as soon as you hear grumbles and silverware clanking roughly against a porcelain plate. You smile a little at the sight in front of you. Simon's pushing your cats head back away from his food, while the cat uses all of his strength. Simon's scowl at the animal only gets deeper when he sees you smile at his unfortunate situation.
"You better not be smilin'," He says annoyance clear in his tone.
Now your laughing, a sound simon usually adores, one that makes his body relax, one that makes him feel safe, but now it has him clenching his jaw and has his eyebrows furrowed.
"Make 'im stop," He growls.
You pretent to think about it for a moment, pointer finger tapping your chin in faux thought, "I don't know si... this is thoroughly entertaining. What's in it for me if I help you?" The vein on his arm looked like it might burst at your question.
"If you don't get this dammed cat away from me it's gonna go missin'," you roll your eyes at his dramatics but called your cat to you regardless.
When you cuddle with one of them the other gets sooooo jealous
Simon will literally toss your little baby off the bed
The cat hits and claws for simon to get away from you
(Your constantly having to scold them its like having two children)
These two will argue with each other Simon's voice is stern its how you imagine he talks to new recruits and your cat is meowing loudly at him clearing cussing him tf out
Groggily peeling open your crused eyes open but quickly closing them as the bright morning sun peeked through your bedroom window you start to awaken. You rubbed into your eyes with the back of your fist before opening them again moving to look at the clock on the bedside table.
11:23
You slept in, or really someone let you sleep in because to your right your boyfriend seemed to have long since left the bed leaving the side he usually accompanied empty and cold.
You stretched and groaned the sheets and blankets moved with you weird groans and grunts leaving your yawning mouth as your joints crackled and popped. You sat up in bed still drowsy with sleep barley aware of your surroundings but still you gripped the enormous blanket and wrapped it around yourself as an act to shield the breezy-ness of the winter weather that leaked into your apartment.
Mreeeooow!
Your head whips to the door at the loud sound. Your cat was talkative but he was never very loud about him. This time the usual cute sound was replaced with an almost screech that made you cringe.
You take a deep breath before standing up and making your way to your room door. Once you open it the sounds of your cat get louder and now you can hear Simon too. His voice is booming but isn't loud it's stern and serious but filled with frustration and anger.
As you walk down the hall to the living area your duvet drag behind you on the floor. The floor creaks and groans under your feet alerting the two others in your home. Both their heads snap towards you. Your little baby's ears are pinned back in airplane mode and his pupils are dilated. Your big baby has his nose scrunched and lips downturned into a frown.
Your voice is laced with tiredness and a little deeper than it normally is, "What are you two arguing about this time?" The back of your hand is rubbing one of your eyes again as you speak.
"The little fucker is bein' disrespectful, he's not listenin' to me."
The cat meows loudly in response to Simon seeming trying to say he was lying.
You sigh and move to pick your cat up, he turns to putty in your arms and nuzzles his head against your chin. You walk towards Simon now. Leaning into him and humming contently when he wrapped his arms around you and the little one in your arms pretending to be annoyed but fully relaxing against your body.
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