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Simon “Ghost” Riley sat near the far end of the bar, his large frame draped in a black hoodie. His hood was up, hiding his figures and casting a shadow in the dim light to the point where only his eyes were visible.

Sat in front of him was a round glass with a neat pour of whiskey, no garnish, just the whiskey in its purest form. He tipped the glass back, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, the familiar warmth settling in his chest.

His attention wandered to the rest of the bar. The chatter of patrons blended into a hum, but his mind wasn't really on the noise. He wasn’t here to socialize. He preferred the silence, the solitude.

On another hand he took a glance at his surroundings, to his left, Gaz was leaning in, his voice low and confident as he talked to a girl, throwing a few well-timed smirks her way. To his right, Soap and Price were engaged in a seemingly well conversation the tension from one of this week’s jobs seemed to slowly loosen from their shoulders.

Simons gaze lazily shifted around, scanning the familiar faces he seems to see every time the 141 comes here. And that’s when he spots you. It wasn’t immediate, at first, he only noticed the way you moved- like you didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

You sat towards the opposite end of the bar, a carefully crafted cocktail in front of you, something strong but with a touch of sweetness, maybe a whiskey based old fashion? Simon assumed, though he hadn’t seen you take a sip yet. There was no rush, no sense of urgency in your actions, just an undeniable air of calm around you, like the world had somehow paused just for you.

You shift in your seat and Simon snaps out of the trance you unknowingly put him in, diverting his gaze back to his glass. His finger absently toying with the rim, you were pretty, there was something about your purity, just like the whiskey in front of him, no frills, no pretenses. You weren’t here to impress anyone, nor were you hiding behind a front. You just were. In a way Simon respected, even through the layers of his mask.

Simon lifted his glass, tilting his head back to take another gulp, as he placed his glass back on the bar top he couldn’t help but steal another glance at you, drawn at the way you sipped your drink, the way your lips parted as you spoke to the bartender. His gaze lingered for a few moments longer, just enough for you to glance over his way, your eyes meeting in a breif silent acknowledgment. You looked away first but not before simon’s breath caught in his chest.

Simon tried his best to focus on the conversation being had next to him, but it was no use. His mind kept drifting back to you.

You didn’t seem to be aware of the way his attention shifted towards you again and again, but then, as if on cue, Simon watched you turn, your eyes finding his for a brief instant before you quickly looked down again. But Simon didn’t look away. It was subtle, a quiet exchange but meant something more to Him.

Soap nudged Simon, jolting him out of his thoughts and forcing him to loo k away.

“Oi, Ghost, you look like you’re about to burn a hole in the poor lass over there.”

Simon grunted, his gaze snapping quickly back to his drink “just having a quite one” he muttered

“Maybe she noticed you staring, what’s the harm in a little chat, eh?”

Simon didn’t answer. He couldn’t. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that kept pulling his attention back. Simon wasn’t a man who usually got caught up in thoughts like these. Hell, he spent years burying that side of him through combat.

Then without warning you stood. Simons eyes followed you as you pushed in the bar stoll, unsure whether to look away or to continue watching. You were headed to the door, moving with the same grace that had first caught his attention. And just before you dissapred into the night, you turned your head, eyes meeting his once more, a smile playing at the edges of your lips before you shut the bar door behind you.

For the first time in a long while, Simon allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more than the shadows he usually lived in.

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girls be the shyest , quietest and most reserved person in the world yet have the most inappropriate , violent sexual fantasies in their head

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simon didn't want to go out often, but when he did he was the most possessive simon you've ever seen. never ever for a second left his hands off your body, always there, always touching somewhere.

he loved those little dresses you chose, they drove him crazy and you knew that. but he hated the attention that came along with them. from the eyes of other men. his jaw always tight, his eyes torn between your body and the gazes from other men. but your body always ended getting most of it, of course.

when you finally chose a place to eat, because he was always a gentleman and let you choose, he would always pull your hips and make you sit on his thighs. his hands never leaving your legs, or your waist, or up and down your arm.

you always blushed, very aware of the looks of people surrounding you shoot at you both. simon didn't give a flying fuck, though, you knew that. he always buried his face on your neck, inhaling your scent while you squirm, trying to choose something from the menu. accidentally grinding on his hardening cock, trying to put a little distance since you understood he'd never let you take another chair for yourself.

simon would grip your waist and legs harder, hissing under his breath at the graze of your barely covered ass on his crotch.

"bahave, lov', or i may take you 'ight here on this table", simon would whisper against your neck, soft biting your skin in a warning.

your cheeks would turn red, but that wouldn't mean you'd stop.

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Off-Putting!Simon Riley with a Reader that matches his freak

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that stares at you like you’re a figment of his imagination. you’re poking around in the kitchen making a quick lunch while Simon’s cleaning dishes— well, he was. he paused when he felt the urge to look at you. he’s been lazily rinsing the same dish for two minutes, looking at you through his pale eyelashes as you quietly move about. he snaps out of it a minute later, your back is to him, but you’ve felt his eyes on you the whole time, “You can keep looking, Simon, just turn the faucet off.”

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that holds you a little too tight. his touch is always loving, but once in a while his blunt nails dig into your skin. small red marks from his fingers pads gripping the fat of your hips around the house left in his wake. in public he’ll do the same, no regard for how it might look to others, his eyes are solely on you. and, oh, Simon adores when you’re affectionately rough with him. he’s taken to wearing t-shirts around you, faded teeth indents littering his biceps from when you’ve felt the need to nip and gnaw at him

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that follows you around the grocery store, he’s been keeping a small distance - idly following you while passersby glance at him. you like it when he shadows you, standing at the edge of the aisle you’re in. he only comes up to you when a man approaches, the poor guy telling you he there’s some ‘strange man’ stalking you through the store. Simon’s suddenly beside you, dark eyes glaring at him as you smile, “Oh— thanks, this is my husband.”, you laugh, smitten when you look up at your Simon

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eat me whole