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auspicioustidings · 8 months ago

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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 3

Brose and Butter

Summary: You finally return the favour and look after Simon while he is breaking and a long building tension breaks. Words: 3k TWs: cheating

Parts: 1 2 3 4

The new place was nice. Bigger than the old one, better area. It wasn’t like you and Johnny had planned to live where you had been forever, you had been looking at houses before he died. Lots of bedrooms. There had been plans to fill them.

This house didn’t have as many bedrooms as he had dreamt about. One master bedroom with an en-suite, 2 other bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor. A nice open plan ground floor with a kitchen and living area plus a toilet. A garage big enough to have a little workshop in it since Simon enjoyed working on bikes.

Because he was living there too. It had been an argument you had lost when he had insisted on paying a lot of money into the house but having the deed be entirely yours. It felt like you were taking advantage somehow given that you knew he adored Joseph so had never really went back to his own flat after he had started living with you. It was supposed to be temporary.

But it made sense in a way. He was gone half of the time anyway, so his flat was laying empty for months. This way he always came home to a warm house instead of an impersonal, dusty museum. And J was always so happy when he was home. It was nice to have the help around the house too.

You tried to ignore the amount of justifications you both came up with for the situation. You and Simon Riley did not like one another. You could not like one another. It didn’t matter if you sometimes got caught in his eyes (or that you swore they flickered to your lips, to your body). It didn’t matter if your mind wandered sometimes to imagine how he might kiss you (hard you thought, the first blow in a brawl that begged for retaliation).

The master bedroom was yours. It felt lonely, especially now that J stayed in the nursery. Too quiet, or at least it used to be. Before Simon had left for work a fortnight ago he had given you a little white noise machine. The thing had about a million settings, but in the end you found that the low sounds of snowfall on the window and a log fire always settled the anxious beat of your broken heart enough for you to sleep.

He was due back today. Not that you kept track given that he was just a housemate. Not that last time he wasn’t home when you thought he was meant to be you made yourself so ill with anxiety that Kyle’s partner had to come round to stay with you. Price had shown up a few days later to check in and explain Simon and Kyle had been delayed a week in a location with no signal but they were ok and it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You suspected he only showed up in person because Kyle’s partner had contacted him. You didn’t know what the deal was there if you were honest, the two of them had a strange relationship but whenever you asked about it from them or Kyle you got nothing but pained smiles and gentle dismissals.

God you hoped he was back as planned. It had been embarrassing enough before although everyone was happy to play it off that you had a stomach bug and that’s why you were completely strung out, hadn’t been sleeping and had been throwing up. You had almost managed to convince yourself of it at this point.

When you heard the door open and the thunk of heavy boots you should have really just continued on with mixing the brownie mix (you just felt like making them you supposed, coincidence that they were his favourite). Instead you smiled and wiped your hands off on your jeans, going to the door to see him hopping on one foot as he untied his laces to get a boot off.

“If you’re going to fall over I’d prefer you wait until J is up from his nap so he can watch.”

He swore and nearly did fall, but just about managed to keep himself upright by leaning on the wall to get the boot off. He was in black sweats, hoodie and his balaclava as he usually was when he came home. Only there was something wrong in the set of his shoulders. There was something haunted in his eyes.

“Simon?”

Your voice was gentle now, soothing. Bad deployment you thought. You had been with Johnny long enough to know that they happened, but he had been so different. When Johnny was on a bad deployment he came back with his blood up. You knew how it had went by how hard he fucked you.

And you had always taken it. Even when it got bad and he warned you off, you would open yourself up to him and let him use your body to exorcise whatever demons were lingering. His anger you had known how to deal with, you had learned how to take orders, go to your knees and take it with a ‘thank you sir’ to help it burn off. It was scary and it was painful but you would take a thousand days of that strange angry (and make no mistake, devastatingly hot) version of the man you loved if it gave you one more minute with him.

Simon was different. He didn’t seem angry at all, he seemed sad. You felt your heart lurch when he dropped his bag and stumbled across to you, going to his knees for you. He looked up at you as if you were the only thing in the world then. And you don’t know what instinct it was that drove you, but you gently pushed down his hood and pulled off his mask.

He let you. He stayed still on his knees even as you ran fingers through his hair to fix it back in place. It always was a mess when he took his balaclava off. Fuck. Having Johnny who was usually fun loving and completely willing to let you direct the action turn to an animalistic dominant beast was one thing, but it could never have prepared you for having Simon who you had only ever known as strong and domineering on his knees with his eyes wide and trusting and waiting for orders.

It was a reminder of how impossible the idea of liking this man would be. He was nothing like the man you had lost, the one you had loved. The one you still did. You didn’t think there would ever come a day when you were able to stop.

And still you spread your fingers across his cheekbones to tilt his head up and give him a stern look, one that said that he was going to be okay because you would accept nothing else. He had freckles you realised with a start. He let out a shaky sigh and seemed to take your touch as permission, falling forward to hug you, head resting heavily on your stomach.

You kept petting his hair, feeling like your brain was fuzzing out. You just wanted to take care of him for once. It was always him taking care of you. It didn’t have to mean anything did it? He was sad and you could be what he needed right now without it meaning anything.

“You’re ok Si, hm?”

“I’m ok.”

“There, that’s good. Come on, you need to help me finish the brownies before J wakes up. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Finishing off the brownies was done in a strange haze as Simon slowly came back to himself. He kept close, almost always having at least one point of contact between you. Warm hand on your waist, the heat spreading out and making your skin feel prickly. A touch of your hair that you felt from scalp to toes. A brush of his thigh on yours that had your pussy clenching. You had forgotten it could do that at such little provocation. You hadn’t thought it would ever do it again after everything.

For one mad moment as the kitchen was tidied and the brownies taken out to cool you were sure you would kiss him. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted Simon fucking Riley.

And for one mad moment as Simon fucking Riley was dragged out of a trauma spiral instead of languishing in it for days as he had become accustomed to, he was sure he would put you on the kitchen island and taste you. You, the annoying fucking princess who did nothing but make fun of him and have obnoxious taste in almost everything. Fuck.

The cry of a newly awakened and hungry almost 1 year old broke both of you from what was surely a bout of madness.

“Do you want to…?”

“Ye, be nice to see him.”

You followed behind, guilt poisoning the brief excitement at watching J react to seeing Simon back. He was getting so good at recognising different people now, his reactions bigger and emotions clearer.

He was signing already, you had taught him ‘mama’ and ‘more’ and ‘hungry’. God you could burst with pride at how inquisitive he was. A little late with his words but the doctors weren’t too worried about it. You showed him photos of his dad, tried to teach him how to say dada. You wanted so badly for it to be his first word. The poisoning guilt turned viscerally painful when you realised you hoped Simon would be there to hear it.

You just needed someone there to see that Johnny wasn’t forgotten about. You still felt like you were burning up anytime his family called to check in. Joseph was healthy and happy but everything still felt like somehow you were failing him. Failing Johnny.

That familiar guilt slowly settled as it always did, becoming a manageable, dull throb. You likened it to a headache really. Sometimes it was debilitating like a migraine, sometimes it was barely noticeable. When Simon returned it always spiked but quickly dulled down as he settled back in.

That night, after Joseph was put down with a goodnight kiss from both you and Simon, you went to bed feeling off balance. You about stopped breathing when the door clicked open and a body almost gingerly settled in next to you.

He had just been in Las Almas he told you. It wasn’t for anything difficult, the mission didn’t go wrong and he even got to see some old friends. But in the dark he bled out his grief that in such a familiar place, Johnny wasn’t there.

Much like everything else between you two, something changed without it being stated. Simon slept in your bed with you from then on.

–

Joseph’s first word was dada. He hadn’t been looking at the photo when he said it.

–

Simon heard the thunk of fist on flesh before he felt it. His anger flared and he grabbed Gaz by the collar, growling at him.

“The fuck was that Garrick?!”

Only for once Gaz didn’t immediately look to diffuse the situation as he always did when the 141 came to blows. This time he bared his teeth.

“Are you fucking her?”

Simon pulled at his collar before shoving him back, anger mixing with confusion mixing with guilt. He hadn’t fucked you. He fucking wanted to. And he was starting to think it was only a matter of time. It was an exquisite kind of torture holding you through the night as he had been everytime he was home for the last 6 months.

“Not that it’s your business Garrick, but no, I’m not fucking her” he hissed, hating that he even had to say it out loud because it felt like a lie even if it wasn’t.

“But you are sleeping in her bed.”

“That a problem?”

God of course he would think it was. Johnny had died in the line of duty and here he was living his life. The life Simon never thought to want with the beautiful, clever, funny and infuriating woman and the baby who looked at him like he hung the stars.

Gaz laughed derisively, running a hand through his hair in disgusted disbelief.

“It’s not… like that” Simon tried.

It was.

“Fuck Ghost, I never took you for a saint but I at least thought you had a shred of humanity left.”

“You think I don’t know it’s wrong to settle in with Johnny’s fucking widow?! With his baby? Christ Sergeant I’m well aware I may as well be pissing on his bloody grave!”

“You-” Gaz choked out, looking angrier than Simon had ever seen him. “You think this is about you betraying him? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“You think I wouldn’t be good to her?”

Simon couldn’t believe this is where the conversation was going. Was he really trying to convince someone he could love you? Out loud? He knew he couldn’t, he knew there was nothing he could say that would make it better. But he wanted you so much.

“Like you were in Las Almas?”

His blood ran cold.

“What’re you…?”

“Oh fuck off you twat. You weren’t subtle and I’m not an idiot.”

“It wasn’t… it was one time Gaz. They weren’t… he hadn’t proposed or anything yet.”

He hated himself. He hated Johnny. He wanted to throw up when those words left his mouth, as if a ring on your finger made any difference.

“She’s my friend. She’s my friend and I had to keep it to myself because I loved Johnny. Because I love you. I fucking picked you two over her. And now what? You can’t fuck him anymore so you’ll take the next best thing?”

His heart twisted and twisted until it was disfigured into something dark and cold. He was a monster. He was a monster because you weren’t the next best thing. He was a monster because if Johnny showed up tomorrow, he wouldn’t let you go. He would fight him for you if he had to.

“...I’m in love with her.”

“Fuck.”

Kyle Garrick was no stranger to how love fucked up everything. He hated this situation, but if Simon loved you, if you loved Simon? He couldn’t ruin it with a betrayal from years ago. Maybe that made him a terrible person. But Johnny was dead, what good would it do to ruin your chance at happiness after him and ruin your perception of him at the same time? He hoped it wasn’t the wrong decision to make.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself Lieutenant. And don’t think Captain and the gorgeous little psychopath waiting for me to come home won’t help.”

Simon knew he would as well. But now that he had finally stopped lying to himself about what he felt for you there was nothing he could do to stop the feral possessiveness that demanded he claim you.

–

“You’re just being sensitive princess.”

Oh you could strangle him. Simon had been off when you had gotten back from dropping J with Kyle’s partner. Price had been there and you had not asked why. Kyle was off as well you thought, eyes darting between you and Simon before hugging you and heading off.

It was only the second time J had stayed without you overnight. You were less a mess this time than you had been the first time at least. You needed it. You loved that kid more than anything else in the world, but you needed a break. A full night’s sleep. A night to relax which was being ruined by Simon being a bloody dick because you had asked what was up.

“Top form tonight, that why someone clocked you?”

He’d probably have a black eye tomorrow based on how the skin was already puffy and discolouring. You assumed it must have been Kyle. Right now you wished he was still here so you could thank him.

“Thinking of taking a swing? Don’t think you could reach but I’ll crouch if you ask nicely.”

“If I ever ask nicely for anything from you then I can only hope someone takes me out back and puts me out of my misery.”

You were getting angry. Of course you were. Because it was… well it was Simon. Nobody could wind you up anywhere near as easily as he did. You thought maybe it was mutual as he sneered and got up in your face, looming over you as you crossed your arms and glowered up at him. Stupid, tall fucker.

“You think I couldn’t make you ask nicely princess?”

“And you really think you could casper?”

He leaned down, arms caging you to the kitchen island, teeth seeming sharper somehow, like at any moment he might sink them into your throat.

“I could have you begging like a bitch in heat” he whispered in your ear.

It affected you. Of course it did. But you could hear the huskiness of his voice and you could feel the heat of him. You weren’t the only one affected.

“Yeah? Prove it Riley.”

The tension that had been slowly tightening for the last year snapped violently. You tasted blood on his lips when you bit into them, you felt bruises form from how roughly he gripped your hips as he hauled you onto the counter.

Two brutal and torturous hours later, thoroughly fucked every which way and still not having been allowed to cum, you did beg. You begged and cried and thanked him when he finally sent you into an earth shattering orgasm. Another hour and you were begging and crying again for him to stop. He laughed darkly and wrung two more orgasms from you even when you told him you couldn’t cum again. Only when you truly had nothing more to give did he feed you brose and butter.

The last thing you remembered before passing out, exhausted, sated, cleaned and cuddled up, was mumbling hoarsely to Simon that you loved him. Maybe it was just your head being muddled from the events of the evening, but you swore you heard him say it back as you drifted off. You swore he apologised for it.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghost x soap #brose is the Scots word for porridge btw #brose and butter is a euphemism for something that is not porridge

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littlequeenies · 2 years ago

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Patricia Julia Brose was born on May 10, 1949, in New York City, the daughter of Laura and Bill Ballinger, a writer of mystery stories.

At age 12, Brose was placed in a foster home because of her mother’s barbiturate addiction.

She went to San Marcos Senior High high school in Santa Barbara, and Pepperdine University college in LA.

Julia began snorting cocaine at 18 while she was dancing at the famous Whiskey a Go Go in Los Angeles. It was there she met John Densmore of The Doors, in 1967. He recalls: "This girl had LRP: Long Range Potential. Her name was Julia Brose, and her father … was remarried to a bubbly blonde who supposedy looked like Julia's real mother. Apparently the real mother drank quite a bit… Julia and I consummated our brand-new relationship that night. There were no male blue balls in the sixties!"

In 1968 she was working in the A & R department of Liberty Records.

By 1969 Julia got pregnant and John didn't know what to do, he recalls: "…on the way back to LA, Julia hit me with the news she was pregnant! Everything was great with us, and now she was pregnant! I didn't want to be a husband yet, let alone a father! I could tell by the look in Julia's eyes that she was hoping I'd say "Let's have it". I couldn't believe it – I was numb. I had asked now and then if Julia was using any kind of birth control, but in 1969, the assumption was that it was the girl's responsability, and we had little dialogue on the subject. Now we had a major problem. I was loaded with so much shame about sex, being raised a Catholic, I didn't inquire how it happened. Was it an accident? I didn't know. But I knew I was incensed. I didn't want a kid and I could tell she did." They didn't know what to do, and in the end John Densmore found a doctor and Julia agreed. They went to Mexico where abortions could be done and it was a place where The Doors could play as well. The doctor and the nurse of the hospital were very nice, and they came in the room where abortions were practised. "There was one of those tables with the stirrups at the end to hold up the patient's legs. Julia must have noticed them, 'cause she started crying. Before we came to Mexico she'd agreed it was the best thing to do. Her tears were like daggers in my heart".

Some months later, John asked Julia to marry, and she agreed. In October 1970 they exchanged rings in hte Pacific Palidases. Robby and Lynn Krieger where the best man and bridesmaid. Jim Morrison sang “Bridal Chorus" at their wedding, but the marriage was short lived.

Her mother died of an overdose in 1972 aged 47.

After five years of marriage Julia left Densmore for Berry Oakley, the bassist for the Allman Brothers band. When she was six months pregnant, he died in a motorcycle accident on November 1972. On March 30, 1973, their son Berry Duane Oakley was born. His godfather is The Doors guitarist Robby Krieger.

As a single mother in ther 20s, she turned to heroin to cope with the loss of both her mother and Berry.

In 1976 she married Chuck Negron, the singer for Three Dog Night. They both developed major heroin addictions.

By 1977, the year Julia Brose and Chuck Negron had their son Charles, Negron devoted his life to being a junkie. She herself snorted heroin in the delivery room before Charle's birth, according to Mother Jones magazine, they both did it. To pay for his habits, Chuck eventually sold everything he owned, including all of his gold albums. "Bit by bit, everything eroded," says Julia. "We took loans against the house, and eventually our telephone and power lines were turned off."

He blew through millions of dollars chasing the highs and she may have been worse. "When Chuck is asked if he ever knew anyone worse than him, he usually says me," admits Julia, a recovering drug addict. "But we had a great marriage because every drug we got was split 50-50." They were married 12 years.

She overdosed twice in her life, waking up in a hospital bed feeling like she’d been run over by a fleet of trucks. She lived.

Julia lost her sister Connie to an overdose in 1984, which prompted her to sober up and leave her husband in 1985, and she checked herself at Cedars hospital. Then she went to school and worked as a drug counselor for decades.

Julia is certified as an Addiction Specialist since 1990, supervising and training residential addiction treatment staff.

By the mid-2000s, she had become a prominent advocate of “harm reduction,” which emphasizes making illicit drug use safer so users may seek treatment.

On 2013 her youngest son was in life support because of an overdose, but luckily he went in recovery. As for 2013, she was a co-founder of “Moms United to end the War on Drugs” and a Board Member of “A New PATH (Parents for Addiction Treatment and Healing”) and lived in Sarasota, FL.

On 2015 she moved to Venice, Los Angeles, where she is devoted to her advocacy work in what’s known as “harm reduction.’’

On July 2017, her son’s fiancé overdosed, leaving an 8-year-old without a mother.

In 2017 she made headlines when she took issue with U.S. Sen. Marco Rubio at a town hall meeting in Manatee County on the opioid epidemic. She is an advocate for making illegal drug use safe in hopes that users will seek treatment. She runs the “Suncoast Harm Reduction Project,” which is a small group of volunteers who pass out Naloxone to addicts to counterattack opioid overdoses. Manatee County has the highest overdose rate in Florida. In 2014, according to Mother Jones magazine, there were 644 community programs in the nation that distributed free Naloxone and Florida had only one person doing it: Brose.

Julia finds herself driving to Manatee County too much as part of her group and says it is “ground zero’’ for drug overdoses, even worse than Los Angeles, where she used to live.

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