#Ghost headcanons

[amaranthinespirit]

older boyfriend!simon riley with inexperienced!reader cw: age gap and use of 'daddy'

your relationship with simon might seem a little odd to those around who only manage to catch a glance your direction. i mean, it's not entirely unwarranted, you're such a sweet, docile thing in comparison to your boyfriend who's gruff and brooding most of the time.

he's just as convinced as the rest of them how he managed to be with such a lovely thing as yourself, thanking his lucky stars every night. though he's sure you're one of them, a bright, gleaming star that fell from the night sky into his thick arms, beefy muscles keeping you bound to him.

sure, the age gap made a person wince whenever they heard it, but it didn't matter to you and simon. you loved each other, and that was that.

he takes care of you, teaching you and your naive mind how to be in a relationship, treating you well with gifts and flowers every week. he also teaches you how to take care of him, training your throat to take his thick cock deep. calloused hand wrapped in your hair, veins popping as he groans out, slowly forcing you further as he watches the bulge protrude your throat.

his breaths are labored, chest heaving as he voices gruffly, "mmm, y'learn s'quick, darlin', such a good girl for daddy, hm?" a chuckle rumbles in his chest, hips bucking involuntarily rips a strained cry from your throat, "sorry, baby, yer doin' s'good."

he makes sure to take care of you afterwards, pressing your body into the plush bedding, his hips rolling slowly into your soaking, wanting pussy, your spongy walls stretching around his heavy cock, legs wrapped around his bulky hips. his balls press into the plush of your rear as he takes it slow and loving, pressing kisses to your temple as he mumbles praise and affirmation.

"yeah, tha's it, good girl, takin' daddy s'well, lettin'im take care of ya," his voice is breathless in your ear, his pace never changing as promised, "daddy's got you, c'mon, lovie." his lips trail down to your jaw, kissing along the bone before he nuzzles his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. his breath warm and fanning across your sweaty, damp skin as he fills you full of his thick, creamy release.

[starryylies]

Ok hear me out Simon Riley is a virgin.

Simon Riley is a virgin like I don’t see him being this Casanova who hooks up with a woman every time he goes to a pub/bar rather he thinks it’s more easy to jack off since ‘it’s the same thing’ anyways and also since he’s quite antisocial and doesn’t like the concept of hookups.

I don’t see him having any past relationships asw and he’d never go to prostitutes.

This is all because of his past, as a child when he saw his father r@pe the woman in the bathroom he’s had a very negative perspective towards sex

and after he got r@ped and tortured as a young soldier he would’ve completely lost interest in sex altogether

and for relationships he’s been to scared to have one since he’s scared he’d be like his father and also because he’s scared to put the person at risk because of his job (trauma regarding his family’s death)

(Idk it’s just my theory, let me know what you guys think!)

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

neighbor!reader x simon 'ghost' riley pt 7

Your neighbor, Simon Riley, didn’t have a clear schedule that he stuck to day to day. That was probably by design, you decided, it matched up with the mysterious descriptor you had placed on him so soon after meeting him. It might have been part of what drew you to him in the first place.

The only time you really knew he’d probably be home was when you looked through your bedroom window and saw his car parked in the back lot behind your apartment building. It wasn’t that you looked for his car or anything. You just happened to notice it sometimes, and you happened to know it was his.

There was no way he knew you were possibly paying attention to that sort of thing anyway, right?

The weather continued to get colder where you lived. Snow was an almost permanent fixture on the ground now, and there was usually at least one day a week where it would snow more than just a light dusting.

Even on the mornings after a particularly heavy snow, you would always wake up to your vehicle being completely cleared of all snow. It was almost like snow had never even touched your car. How did that even-?

You had an inkling as to who it might have been, but you held your tongue. It was more fun to be in limbo.

It was the time of year that you liked to make your favorite four ingredient toffee, and you especially made it on those long, cold winter’s nights. The nights before you knew it would snow, you always left a good-sized bag of your chocolate-covered toffee on Simon’s welcome mat in front of his apartment door. It was always gone the next morning.

You really hoped it was him taking it, and not some weird welcome-mat pirate this time of year.

The local weather stations were all forecasting a record-breaking snowfall starting late that evening. It was a good thing you were all stocked up on sugar and butter, the main ingredients for the toffee you always gave your mysterious neighbor. As soon as you got home from work that day, you got to work making the largest batch you had ever attempted.

You had four entire baking pans lined with foil and filled with cooling toffee on your counter when you finally decided to look out your window again. It looked almost pure white outside. You stood there for a few seconds, admiring the tranquil scene outside before groaning in realization.

Goddamnit, did you really leave your emotional-support water cup in the car again?

You ended up convincing yourself that your slippers would be good enough to take you to your car in the parking lot. After all, your boots were almost dry on your boot drying rack by the front door. You didn’t want to put on damp boots and get them all snowy again.

Your logic was impeccable. Fuzzy socks and slippers instead of snow boots. You were only going out to your car for one thing, after all. It’s not like you were planning on hanging out outside. In and out, or rather, out then back in.

Out was done, no problem. Your robe was tied snugly against your waist, the hood draped over your head. It wouldn’t be comfortable for long-term outdoor time right now, but for a few minutes, sure.

You made it all the way out to your car, just to realize that your car was locked, and you had left the keys in your apartment. With a groan, you turned back around, your fuzzy socks and robe already wet with falling snow, and made your way back to get your keys.

Keys in hand now, you again made it all the way out to your car without trouble. You walked in grassier areas if you could, but once you got to the actual lot, you couldn’t avoid the ice-covered pavement.

You couldn’t help the small, proud smile on your face at your almost successfully completed mission on your way back to the apartment building side door. You were almost there. Just a few more steps-

Oh, no.

It just so happened that Simon was returning home around that time. In fact, he just so happened to be on his way to the apartment door himself, just ten or so paces behind you. You couldn’t hear him, though, through the sound of the blizzard.

But he saw you. And he saw you start to fall.

Simon wasn’t about to let you hit the ground. Not if he could help it.

He wasn’t sure what came over him.

“What were you thinking, love?”

“S-Simon-? Holy-” Of course. Of course it was him. Of course he was the one that saved you from your icy, painful doom. But he hadn’t just caught you-

You had landed on him. He had dove towards you to keep you from falling on the icy concrete.

“Are you okay?” you asked him breathlessly.

Simon grunted. “That’s what I’m supposed to be asking you. What the hell were you thinking, coming out in a blizzard in a robe and slippers?”

Clearly, you hadn’t been expecting this to happen. And you hadn’t really been thinking when you went out into the blizzard in that attire. But damn it, you really wanted your water cup.

“Don’t tell me you came out here, in that, for the damn cup in your arms…”

Your silence was deafening to his ears, even with the blizzard still storming on in the background. You really didn’t want to confirm or deny his suspicions. Both sounded like a bad idea.

“You’ve got to be kidding me-”

You squeaked in his arms as he shifted to stand up, now holding you against his chest in an almost bridal-type manner. Your free arm wrapped instinctively around his neck, the other still clutching your water cup to your chest.

You thought about telling Simon that you could just walk yourself inside, no problem, but something told you to stay quiet. So you did.

Simon continued to carry you all the way up to your apartment door. He didn’t hesitate before turning the knob, knowing that you would probably have left it unlocked anyway. You half expected your feet to be touching the ground already, but instead, Simon set you down crossways on your couch.

“You got something dry to change into?”

You blinked up at him. “Y-Yeah, in my bedroom-”

He didn’t even let you finish before he was on his way to your bedroom himself, but only after motioning for you to stay put.

A small huff of air escaped your nose as you crossed your arms over your chest, watching Simon walk into your bedroom without a second thought. You were so stunned that you didn’t even care about the state of your bedroom, what you might have left out that morning, if your bed was made or not.

It didn’t seem that Simon would care about those things, anyway. The man was on a mission.

It wasn’t but a minute later and Simon had returned to you. In his arms was your favorite sweatshirt, fuzzy pajama pants, wool socks, and a thick blanket. You figured the blanket was probably just for good measure.

“Here, go ahead and change,” he told you. It almost sounded like a command rather than a suggestion. “I’m going to go make us some tea.”

“Okay- kettle’s on the counter, cups and tea are in the cupboard above it-”

Simon chuckled as he walked from the living room to your kitchen, shaking his head. “I know…”

You waited until he was out of sight to begin changing out of your wet robe and pajamas and into the new, dryer, warmer clothes that Simon had picked for you. By the time Simon returned to you with two mugs of tea in his hands, you were sitting on the couch in your dry clothes, the blanket laid out across your lap.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him. “So first you save me from cracking my head open, and now you bring me tea right to my couch? Am I in the Twilight Zone, Simon?”

Even with his balaclava, you could see him dramatically roll his eyes. “Drink the damn tea, love.”

It was stronger than you expected it to be, and a little bit more bitter than sweet, but you didn’t mind it, honestly. Maybe you could grow to like your tea better this way.

Just how Simon made it for you.

first

previous

masterlist

[machveil]

so anyways, I started balling my eyes out

Simon holding my hand at bare minimum would make me feel better, maybe a gentle squeeze? (coping)

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[estuaryghoul]

Before the transition, Dew had gills and fins, but not the thicker finned tail of a water ghoul. He was a multighoul with a dormant element, much like Delta had been, but hopefully less of a failure. He had long and thin dark horns, similar to a gazelle.

Post transition, his fins and gills are gone. Long white scars jagged across his skin, thin between his fingers where the webbing used to be. Most visible though on his neck, gills forever sealed, the excess cut away. His horns too are different, now short and white. Only the bone left.

It's so hard to breathe, like his chest is compressed. It's also far colder than he remembers. The cold didn't used to bother him, but now his joints ache and he barely feels tethered to his body beyond the pain. Aether and his quintosis help ground him, the familiar scent and the comforting Presence of the larger ghoul. Of course that's after he allows him anywhere near his disfigured corpse body.

[fishermon]

Simon with all/majority hypertrophic scars is so near and dear to my heart, he scars big and he scars red, and there's nothing he can do to hide what happened to him but cover it up with clothes. He can't use concealer or make up to hide them, all be can do is wear long sleeves or a mask etc, but even through the fabric, he can still feel the raised bumps. He can never ignore them, never forget they're there. He has a constant reminder of what Roba did to him, what his dad did to him, what life in the military running from everything did to him.

Johnny loves them, though. They remind him Simon is human, they remind him Simon is real, they remind him Simon is still here, still alive.

[bittybat28]

I have a head cannon that Phantom took care of Satan’s carrier bats in hell and where he resided was eternally night so when he came to the surface it took him a long time to get his eyes used to any kind of light. His eyes are still sensitive to light so he sometimes has to go to a dark space or wear special sunglasses to help him when he’s having a hard time!

[machveil]

never stop talking about him because he’s literally the perfect Ghost cosplay like—

oh this shit is gonna send to another level of delusion im so sorry in advance for the person I’m going to become

Nsfw ish of that one ghost cosplayer 😭😭

LIKE IM SICK!!!!!!!!

[oceantornadoo]

simon riley AND reader who are absolutely terrible at dating.

he ghosts you after the first date. you thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime connection with unmatched banter and crackling physical tension. guess not. you lose a couple of nights of sleep over it and chalk it up to men ain’t shit and move on.

simon who can’t stop thinking about your date as he gets shipped out the next day. runs through an op quicker than ever, barking at soap more than usual, toeing the line of unprofessional. every day that passes is a day he can’t touch his personal phone, leaving your text thread abandoned.

you get a text a month later. “you around?” have to check the thread to remember who it was, finding yourself absolutely shocked, struggling to remember the hulking mass of a man who made you giggle so much over that one dinner.

simon shows up to your picnic date with apology flowers and a new leather jacket. explains why he was gone without prompting, a gruff monologue as you find yourself getting distracted by the new scratch on his eyebrow and the scruff on his face. unconsciously, your fingers brush it barely, wanting to make sure it was real.

simon stops mid-sentence, gripping your wrist in an iron hold. the shock of what you did hits you, profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you try to explain and tug your wrist back. he won’t let you though, keeping it in place, your soft skin against his worn calluses.

��‘s okay, love. jus’ ask next time. still jumpy from work.” you finally snatch your hand back, embarrassment warming your body as you nod your head in acknowledgment. he thinks about letting the awkwardness settle and take roots, adding a string of failed dates to his black book.

instead you make the choice for him, attention catching on a nearby curious toddler. you give the little bugger a wave with your biggest smile, sticking out your tongue to make the kid laugh. simon decides then and there that he’s going to keep you.

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that doesn’t correct people for thinking you’re dating. Simon’s minding the trolley while you grab a box of cereal at the store, idly standing by while watching people dip in and out of the aisle. when an older woman says you make a cute couple he just nods and says ‘thank you, ma’am’. he especially doesn’t correct someone when he stalks up behind you, a protective hand on your hip when they scoff and ask, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Roommate!Simon Riley that knows you like the back of his hand - ever changing, but still familiar at the end of the day. a new scar marring his knuckles? he’ll memorize what you like from that new café that opened down the block. a new nick on his wrist? he’s picking up that new movie you were gushing about wanting to see, a genre you wouldn’t necessarily choose usually - he’s ignoring how the main love interest looks like him. at the end of the day, some things never change, like how he’s memorized your smile and the way your nose scrunches

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s fallen into a comfortable pattern with you. your friends always say you act like a married couple, but you wave them off. so what if you guys are in the bathroom at the same time? you need to squeeze a shower in and Simon wanted to brush his teeth - besides, he can hand you a towel when you’re done. so what if you sleep in each other’s rooms? the damn AC is busted again, it’s not your fault Simon is as warm as a furnace and welcomes you with open arms

Roommate!Simon Riley whose favorite start to the morning is seeing you bleary eyed and groggy. your hair is messy, pillow lines across your cheek, and your t-shirt is askew - perfect. he doesn’t care if you have crud around your eyes, he doesn’t care if you haven’t brushed your teeth yet, he doesn’t care that you’re wearing his t-shirt— Simon pauses, eyes glued to you. his last name decorating your back… maybe Simon does care about you wearing his shirt

[urmomschocolatemilk]

I 🩷 bikers

Biker!Simon who’s tatted uppp. He’s rolling up his sleeves while he rides to let everyone get a look at his muscly arms laced with inked designs because yes, he does want to show off

Biker!Simon who's rolling up next to you at a red light, head turning while he thrums his fingers on the seat under him. He can feel your heated gaze through your window.

Biker!Simon who flips open his visor and lets his eyes find yours. He wants you to know that he sees you staring and he's staring right back at you

Biker!Simon who passes his phone to you with the new contact sheet open on his screen, ready for you to fill out

Biker!Simon who trashes on the TikTok bikers and calls them cornballs but doesn’t hesitate to send you photos of him in a compression shirt and helmet at any chance he gets

Biker!Simon who buys you a helmet before your first date, and takes you home. And no matter how much you beg him that night, he refuses to go above sixty on the highway because he why would he ever put his girl at risk like that?

[amaranthinespirit]

husband!simon riley follows you around like a lost dog 24/7.

whether it be in the comfort of your own home, or out in public, the man is basically your shadow. like a moth to a flame, he is the moth and you're his flame.

it doesn't matter where you saunter off to, chances are, he's stomping right after you. Around your house, he's following you to every room.

need the bathroom? keep the door open, he'll lean against it with his arms crossed over his chest, either watching you silently or tapping away on his phone.

cooking in the kitchen? he's hovering over your shoulder. you can't count the amount of times on one hand you bumped into his broad, brutish chest, stepped on his foot, or, definitely not on purpose, whacked his groin with a small pan. still, he never learns.

watching TV in the living room? you best bet he's going to sit his big ass right next to you. even if you're on the single person armchair, he'll squish you into the armrest if it meant being next to you.

showering? not without him because he'll join you, and find a way to release pent-up need at the same time, that is if you aren't already stressed that day, then he'll just wash your hair and run a relaxing bath for you to soak in peace afterwards.

In public, people give him weird side glances, numerous occasions where you've had concerned folks tap you on your shoulder and give a small point over your shoulder, to which you reply sweetly with the biggest smile on your face, "oh, that's just my husband!"

he keeps a thick finger hooked into the waistband of your pants, or shorts, or looped in one of your belt loops to keep you near him. since you're much smaller than him, it can be easy for you to get lost in big crowds, and this just assures simon that you're never out of reach.

it's a funny thing to watch for the guys to watch, observing their lieutenant follow you around aimlessly like a big puppy, eyes soft as he gazes down at you, sharpening when another person approaches or observing.

you think it comes from never being able to control his surroundings, his obsessive need to keep you safe, more so now that you have a wedding ring on your finger, forever tying you to him. not physically, but he wouldn't hesitate to if it meant keeping you safe.

[khioneee]

simon is one of the girls (sort of)

boyfriend!simon was always invited to girls’ night—not out of obligation, but because everyone genuinely wanted him there. he fit into the group effortlessly, his quiet, protective presence becoming a staple at every gathering. whether it was lounging around in pajamas with face masks on or heading out for a wild night at the club, boyfriend!simon was part of the plan.

if it was girls’ night, boyfriend!simon was there. need someone to open a bottle of wine? he had it uncorked in seconds. carrying heavy bags for a night in? already done. if the group was heading to the club, simon was always the first to volunteer to drive everyone home safely at the end of the night.

boyfriend!simon never overstepped, but he wasn’t a silent bystander, either. when conversations got lively, he’d chime in with the perfect sarcastic remark or sly observation, earning a mix of giggles and mock glares. and when a topic turned to relationship drama, he always gave it to you and your friends straight.

“dump the bloke,” he’d say bluntly, not even looking up from his drink. “if i hear his name one more time, i’m blocking his number myself.”

your friends always groaned, but soon enough, they started messaging him directly for advice.

out on the town, boyfriend!simon was the designated protector. no one had to ask—he was always at the edge of the group, watching for anything suspicious. he made sure no one lingered too close, and if someone tried to chat up one of your friends unwantedly, simon’s presence alone was enough to send them packing. if they didn’t get the hint, simon would step forward, voice low and deadly calm: “you’ve got somewhere else to be, mate.” that always did the trick.

despite his intimidating size, boyfriend!simon never felt out of place during your quiet nights in. he sat comfortably among blankets and pillows, scrolling on his phone as face masks dried and reality tv droned in the background. your friends teased him mercilessly about it, but he didn’t mind.

“you’re basically one of us now, si,” one of them joked once.

he gave a small shrug, not looking up. “just don’t expect me to paint my bloody nails, yeah?”

with boyfriend!simon around, you and your friends could relax fully, knowing he’d take care of everything—from heavy bags to creeps at the bar. he wasn’t just there for you—he was there for everyone you cared about, making sure nothing went wrong on his watch.

one night, after everyone had left and it was just the two of you, you leaned into him, curious. “why are you so sweet to my friends?”

boyfriend!simon didn’t miss a beat, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he answered softly, “because they mean a lot to you—and you mean everything to me.”

an. i desperately need a man like him.

[konigsbitch]

꧁ How would COD men react to pink bow on their bicep ꧂

König

König would be smiling like an idiot under his mask

Will call it coquette as you do

Will flex his arm just to see you smile and you'd be telling him to flex it more but he doesn't want to rip the bow apart

He knows that's what you want but he wants to tease you

Would dare you to put one around his cock

"come on, liebling (darling). Put a pretty bow around my cock so it will be cockquette when I will fuck you."

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I really feel like Ghost would be like

"aw, you put a pink bow on me? Do you think it suits me? I don't need your opinion, I know it does. I look good in pink"

He will flex his arm, but not too much so he won't rip that pretty bow apart

He will flex his arm, but not too much so he won't rip that pretty bow apart

Will cover it with something and wear it for the whole day

This man could be killing while having a pink bow wrapped around his muscles

[musouie]

sending simon a “care package” while he’s on deployment, but in lieu of non-perishable food and toiletries, you send him erotic photos and his favourite pair of your lace knickers.

he thanks you the following afternoon with a string of blurry videos of him jerking off in his bunk, muffled moans escaping clamped lips and a massive, veiny hand pumping his flushed cock.

when he comes, his meaty thighs tremble, as does the camera. you don’t see much, save for the splatter of white against his skin as he groans and sighs — a bestial thing ripped from his throat — and your knickers wrapped around him.

and when he returns from deployment, with pallor skin and sunken eyes, he leaves no room for you to question what could be wrong — because the second he enters your home, he’s forcing you against the wall and fucking your starved cunt for as long as he can manage, making up for all those precious months lost :(

masterlist <3 . . . newest feral!simon

[fishermon]

Simon's hands in Rose and Lavender

I definitely prefer the style of the first one, I love the sketchy shading, but I needed to get the second one done really quick so I just went for a general wash of colours instead of proper shading.

I drew the second one because I love the idea of Simon using an alternative pen grip because his fingers bend back too far at the top joint and it causes him pain when writing for a long time using the normal pen grip/the one they teach in school. I especially love the idea that he got told off for how he held his pen in school, because it's not "the proper way"

Honestly, Simon struggling with school is a headcanon I love, he struggled with learning to read and write, he struggled with maths and science, every subject was a struggle, and because of his home life he's labelled as a problem child and none of the teachers bother to help him or realise he has autism and dyslexia. They just write him off straight away.

I also think his dad wouldn't have been the type to encourage reading. He'd make fun of Simon for reading in his free time at home, say it wasn't "manly enough", but then turn around and get angry at him when they go to parents evening and the teacher brings up that Simon isn't at the reading level he should be.