#rileys sleepover

[elysianightsss]

Sleepover

NSFW version

Snog, marry, fuck

Snog: Kyle has the softest lips. That man takes his time and knows what he’s doing to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

Marry: John Price is nearing the end of the career. I’m sorry. He’s not that old, but he’s getting older for active military. He’s going to get ready on settling down soon. Creating roots. He’ll be financially well off to have a lil stay at home wife (ME) and start making babies. He’ll still be involved with the 141, but nothing on the frontlines.

Fuck: Ghoap. They are one entity at this point. Johnny and Simon are dirty bastards who won’t bother working you up by making out. Johnny will eat pussy until you see stars and Simon’s cock will ruin you for any other man.

Oh I love it! So true for each of them as well.

Snog: I’d snog Johnny. I feel like he’d be so dirty about it. All tongue and spit, teeth clashing together as he tries to work his way deeper into your mouth. His hands in your hair or wrapped around you, holding you close and grinding against your thigh, groaning into your mouth.

Marry: I’m torn between marrying John or Simon, both retired.

John would be so old fashioned, finally retired and wanting a little stay at home wife. He’d have all that military money saved and loads more in coffee cans and cookie jars; his whole life savings just waiting to be spent on a house, a crib, and those designer heels he loves you to wear while he fucks you.

Simon, how lucky he feels that you belong to him. I so feel like you’d both settle in a sweet little cottage far away from civilisation. Somewhere he can be mask free, he can just be Simon. Not ghost or LT, just Simon. He’d so take up gardening, green thumbs indeed, growing all the food you eat and learning how to cook so when you come home from work (when you’re not working from home that is) he’s got a hot home made meal waiting for you to devour before he devours your pussy, his sweet wife.

Fuck: Gaz. God he’d be so perfect. Overachiever that he is, he’d go all in trying to make you scream his name. Grinning as you arch your back, hips starting to ache but he pushes through that wanting to watch you cum all over his cock. His gorgeous chocolate skin looks so pretty in the candlelight, thin layer of sweat making him shine. He’s everything.

[tanked-up]

Sleepover with the 141

————————————

Price: Your telling me, you asked Ghost to pick the movie!?

Soap: Yeah…?

Gaz: You know he’s gonna pick a horror theme one, right?

Alejandro: He’ll probably take that as an excuse to sleep next to Ghost.

Rudy: Gonna be “I’m too scared to sleep alone…”

Soap: Ye’ are all harsh, please

Ghost arrives: Alright, everyone. We are watching-

Soap: First of all, tell everyone ye’ didn’t pick a scary one, cause clearlyyy they’re all over their heads.

Ghost: I actually picked Annabelle-

Soap: Hm…?

Rudy: I mean… look at the bright side, you get to sleep next to Ghost now.

Ghost: I’m sorry?

Alejandro: He’ll get to scared to sleep alone and he’s gonna end up all over you

Ghost: … Soap?

Soap: Pft, idk what they talking about… le- let’s just play the damn movie.

—————————————————

(3 in the morning)

Ghost looking around half asleep mumbling: What the hell…?

Soap: LT… did I wake ye’ up?

Ghost: Why is your leg on top of mine…

Soap: Funny thing-

Ghost: I can’t believe your scared over some stupid doll, Soap

Soap: DID YE’ EVEN SEE THE MOVIE?

Ghost: I did, and I’m peacefully sleeping

Soap: Says the one who wears a skull as a face

Ghost: We talked about this, Johnny

Soap scoffs and positions himself normally to sleep: Fine! Leave me to die

———————————————————

(The morning)

Rudy waking up and noticing Ghost already up: Uh… Ghost?

Ghost with Soap all curled up hugging him as he sleep: Never saw this and I’ll give you a hundred

Rudy to sleep to even acknowledge: Deal

———————————

[cod-dump]

Ghost, Soap, & Gaz: *hanging out in Price’s office talking*

Price: *sitting at his desk, glaring ahead of him*

Gaz: Cap, are we bothering you?

Price: Yes! You’re cutting into my nap time

Soap, immediately: Sleepover at the captain’s?

Price: Wha-

Ghost: SLEEPOVER

Price: FUCKING HELL- NO-

(Thirty minutes later)

Price: *trapped in bed with the boys surrounding him, all of them fast asleep*

Price, sighing: Wonder if Kate will babysit…

[siren-141]

45 with Ghost 🙏🏽🙏🏽

warnings: sex, a tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort. have fun :) summer sleepover

roses - awaken I am

“Cheers,” everyone raised their glasses to the center of the table as Gaz spoke. “To the 141 and to my best friend for hosting this lovely dinner for us.”

Everyone clinked their glasses with one another, taking a sip of the crimson wine in the glass. The boys had just finished up a successful mission and had gotten back, and you couldn’t help but offer to host them for a night. After all, they deserved a nice home-cooked meal and some well-aged wine.

You looked around the table, smile only faltering when you met eyes with Simon. You knew things would be awkward when you had told your childhood best friend, Gaz, to tell his team about the dinner, but you figured you’d just have to get over it.

“Oh no John, you don’t have to get those,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder above you. He had already taken his place in front of your sink, sleeves rolled up and ready to wash the dishes when you stopped him.

“Please, it’s the least I could do,” he said. Somehow you were able to talk him down, telling him it wasn’t even that many dishes and you’d grab them after everyone was gone. Moving back to the living room of your cozy apartment, he joined the rest of the men and put his jacket back on, gearing up to leave.

“Thank you so much lass, we really enjoyed the food and the company as always,” Johnny leaned down to give you a customary kiss on the cheek.

“It’s no problem at all, you’re all welcome any time,” and with that, the men all said their goodbyes and left. You sighed, locking the door behind them. It wasn’t that bad, you thought, It could have been worse.

Lighting a candle in the living room, you went back to the kitchen to start on the dishes. You got two plates in when you heard a knock on your door.

“Simon..?” you opened your door to be met with the large man, hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. “Did you forget something?”

“No, no. I just…wanted to talk, I guess.”

Welcome to worse.

You hesitantly let him in, watching as he sat on your all-too-familiar couch. Bringing the wine bottle back over, you sat down a few feet away from him, pouring some in each glass and handing it over to him.

–

A few hours had passed since Simon had come back. The two of you caught up after a few months of not talking, not really being in each other’s lives anymore. You talked about your jobs, about school. About relationships. That’s where it all went downhill.

“It was never gonna work out, Si,” you said, voice beginning to raise. You could already feel the tears begin to spring to your eyes.

“I tried,” he responded, pacing the room.

“You were always working-”

“They needed me at my job, I can’t exactly walk away whenever I want to, you know that.”

“I know that Simon, but I needed you too!”

It was silent for a while, both of you letting your words sink in. He brought his hand up to his face, grimacing and rubbing his eyes for a sense of clarity, trying to find the calm in this storm. When he turned around, he was met with a sight that made his heart drop. You were still sitting on your couch, glass of wine in one hand and your head in the other, facing the opposite direction. He saw your shoulders and back rise, and realized you had begun to cry.

Simon walked over, sitting back down next to you. He took the glass from your hand and set it gently on the table in front of you, and took your hand in his. He whispered your name, and you looked at him, a single tear running down your cheek as you tried to gain composure.

“Please don’t cry,” he said softly, thumb brushing the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost smiling. “It’s fine. We’ve been over all of it already, we’re past it-”

He leaned in and connected his lips with yours in a soft kiss. He could feel you tense at first, but soon after you relaxed. When the two of you separated, he stayed close, lips almost touching yours still.

“Please. Let me make it up to you,” he spoke in a whisper, heart racing, hoping that he could just have one last chance with you. In that moment, he knew that there was a God as you nodded your head and leaned back in.

The second kiss was more passionate, months of heartbreak being poured into it. He cupped your face in his large hand, deepening the kiss. His tongue moved languidly across yours, missing the way your lips felt on his.

As he moved his hand to your waist to pull you closer, you whimpered into his mouth, and he pulled back. You were about to object when he stood up, guiding you up with him, and leading you to your bedroom.

The two of you stood in your room in silence as he slipped your dress over your head slowly, letting it fall to the ground as he kissed you again, backing you up until your knees hit the bed. You sat down on the edge, and he kneeled in front of you.

“I’ve missed you every day that we’ve been apart,” he breathed as he kissed your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest.

“Can barely concentrate,” he unclasped your bra with expertise, just like he used to all those months ago. He let it fall to the ground on top of your dress. He kissed the apex of your breast, hand squeezing at the other as he listened to your breath hitch.

“My head’s a mess when you’re in it,” he kissed down your stomach, hands squeezing at your waist. He gently pushed you to lay down, raising your hips to pull your tights down your legs and slip them off completely, kissing down your thighs and legs until he had shown your whole body the love he knew it deserved.

He rose from the ground, undressing himself, never breaking eye contact as you laid there, propped up on your elbows.

“Simon,” your soft voice rang in his ears; you were like a siren to him. You could have said anything from anywhere, and he’d abandon ship just to hear you again.

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. His fingers trailed down until they met your core, and you opened your legs up willingly to him, missing his touch more than anything. He began to rub your clit in small, slow circles, already feeling the wetness accumulate on his fingers. Pushing two of his fingers in, he worked you open, swallowing your soft moans.

Gentle waves rolled over you as he brought you to your first climax. Nobody knew your body as well as him; he was able to make you cum with ease, remembering everything about you as if he had blueprints he had studied for ages.

“Please,” you breathed out. He repositioned himself, lining his thick cock up with your entrance, pushing to the hilt until he was fully sheathed inside you. Electricity sparked within you, his cock hitting all of your pleasure points that your toys had missed every time you used them in his absence. He groaned at your wet heat, stilling inside you as he refocused.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling out and slowly pushing back in. “Feel so good wrapped around me, sweetheart.”

Simon set a slow but powerful pace, hips driving into you deep as you left light scratches along his back. Your room sounded of deep moans and whimpers, both of you having to break from your kiss every time he hit an especially sensitive spot.

“I love you, I never stopped. I never will.” He could feel you clench at his words as he let out another moan, his thrusts starting to move a little bit faster.

“Oh- Simon, baby-” you held him tighter, head thrown back as the pleasure shot up your spine. “Please, please, please…”

He could tell you were close, your pussy tightening around him as he had found just the right angle and pace. “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that- you’re takin’ me so well. Always been a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you became overwhelmed with his admissions and pleasure. You gasped as he hit your sweet spot continuously, whining and writhing underneath him.

“There you go, I’ve got you. Cum f’me sweetheart, I’m right here,” his words shattered you, your vision going white as your back arched off the bed. “That’s it, go ahead love.”

Pleasure continued to ripple through you, blood rushing through your ears and white-hot ecstasy running through your veins as Simon continued his pace just as it was, just as you liked it. As soon as he saw you begin to come down from your high, his thrusts got sloppier, hips stuttering as he breathed out a fuck in that baritone voice of his. His eyes squeezed shut as he came deep inside you, pushing himself as deep as possible. He pumped himself in you a few more times as he came down himself, finally pulling out and rolling on side of you.

You both laid there for a while, waiting for your heavy breathing and racing hearts to calm down. He pulled you to the side of him, holding you close. You could hear his heartbeat return back to normal. The two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a couple of minutes.

Simon was the first to break the silence.

“I meant everything I said,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing circles onto your back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You both laid like that for what seemed like forever. He was just about to fall asleep, drift off into another world, when you turned onto your side and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Love you too, Si,” you murmured, eyes already shut.

[deduction-substitute]

Happy birthday to me here's to more Lucky Guy content in the future 🙏🙏🙏

I wish people did more with the veterans, nevermind the fact that Kreacher doesnt have the external trait and that Lucky Guy has never met Game 4, but AUGHGGHGH

They have the messiest relationship imaginable but I swear they care for each other guys I promise (delusional). In a manor like oletus, where youre trapped in a routine of decode and survive over and over again, i think theyd be able to form at least. A civil relationship.

It only approaches friendly territory when Lucky appears- a complete outsider from their game, which means no biases. He helps them get their shit together until they can all be in a room without wishing bodily harm upon each other 🙏

The problem is that. Its not. Obvious.

They still fight, argue, send each other dirty glances, etc etc. No one knows that Freddy likes to keep stock of all of Emily's supplies in the infirmary so she can rest. No one knows that Emma lets Kreacher pick off a few flowers out of her garden whenever his urge to snatch something gets the best of him.

No one knows that Freddy lets Kreacher into his room to rest on his sofa because its just that comfy. No one knows that Kreacher is the one snitching to Emily about whoever's injured or sick. No one knows that Freddy and Emily keep each other company at the dead of night when everything gets too much

But Lucky knows. And the veterans are grateful that he does.

[codsoup]

A cozy sleepover / Ghost x Soap

Just some tooth rotting fluff, Oh and one small bed 😉

—————

In the heart of their covert base, Soap found himself contemplating a decision that felt both bold and inviting. With determination, he approached Ghost, who was engrossed in reviewing mission reports.

"Hey, Lt," Soap began, his voice carrying a hint of nervous excitement. "I was wondering if you'd be up for a change of scenery tonight?" Ghost looked up, intrigued by the invitation. "What do you have in mind, Soap?"

Soap cleared his throat, a slight blush touching his cheeks. "Well, how about a sleepover? In my room." Ghost's eyes widened in surprise, a rare emotion that played across his usually composed features. "A sleepover?" he repeated, clearly taken aback.

Soap nodded, his grin growing. "Yeah, just friends hanging out, enjoying some downtime." Ghost considered the offer for a moment before a playful smile tugged at his lips. "Alright, Soap. I'm in."

As night fell and the base grew quiet, Ghost found himself standing outside Soap's quarters. He hesitated for a moment, nerves dancing in his stomach, before he knocked on the door. Soap answered with a warm smile, gesturing for Ghost to enter.

The room was small but cozy, the dim lighting casting a soft ambiance. There was a small bed against one wall, neatly made up with two pillows side by side. Ghost couldn't help but chuckle. "A bit of a tight fit, isn't it?"

Soap shrugged with a sheepish grin. "It's cozy."

As the night wore on, they settled in on the small bed, their shoulders brushing against each other. The conversation flowed easily, laughter filling the air as they exchanged stories and shared moments from their pasts. The tension of the battlefield was replaced by an undeniable ease in each other's company.

Ghost, ever observant, noticed the way Soap's gaze lingered on him, the softness in his eyes impossible to ignore. He shifted slightly, their legs tangling beneath the sheets, and Ghost's heart skipped a beat when Soap's hand brushed against his.

Flirting subtly, Soap remarked, "You know, I think you might have taken the 'ghost' thing a bit too far. It's rare to find you in one place for so long. I hope you're not planning to vanish anytime soon."

Ghost chuckled, his fingers playfully tracing patterns on the back of Soap's hand. "Maybe I've finally found a reason to stick around."

In the soft glow of the room, their laughter faded into a comfortable silence. As their eyes met, a shared understanding passed between them. Ghost reached up, his fingers grazing Soap's cheek before gently cupping it. He leaned in, their foreheads touching, and they shared a moment of closeness that needed no words.

"I'm glad you invited me," Ghost admitted softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Soap's response was a tender forehead kiss,"Me too."

————

Big softies 😌

[walterdoodles]

Sleepover 😍 my boyfriend asked me to draw this!

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Price - Ghost - König

fuck marry kill? 😈😈

See kill really isn’t an option for any of these guys but:

Fuck Ghost

Marry Price

Kill König (I’m sorry bby)

Here’s the post this is from! Feel free to send more

[bitchin-beskar]

ok since i know you've gotten to that part so:

my biggest problem with liking the COD bois, especially soap and ghost is that i don't just want one......i want both of em............

like. just imagining you with two big military boyfriends. both big and beefy (with amazing sexy voices) i neeeeeed it

ughhhhhhhhhhhh

god is it selfish of me to want both? you know what, idc if it's selfish, im a writer and therefore can be as selfish as i want and no one can stop me

the idea of both of them together??????

god it just wrecks me, literally to pieces like i cannot handle it

[ender1821]

Watt, but Riley actually didn’t have a landline in her house pre-act 2, and it’s because of Annleigh’s continuous questioning about her house’s landline that she gets one for her house

Like, during the time between act 1 and 2 Annleigh just keeps pestering her for a landline

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Ghoul...I can't beli-..you had no busi- ..how...how could you drop such lore without warning..

I feel like my brain just short circuited. No coherent thoughts just Love and Ghost swimming in there...

What do I do now? Where do I go? How do I function? Am I broken?..Did you break me?..

Send help...

https://www.tumblr.com/weretentaclegirl/754217228386385920/you-thought-it-would-be-fine-to-fuck-a-fae-as-long

This post reminds me so much of your fae au. Btw I love your writings pls keep up the good work you amazing ghoulish being!!!

on GOD this was gonna be how Ghost initially trapped Love but I never got around to writing it. So I'm going to write it for you right now.

tw: magical drugging(tap), kidnapping, altered mental states(tap tap), extremely dubious consent(tap tap tap), manipulation and brainwashing

Your body feels heavy, your limbs unwilling to respond to your commands as your mind drifts. But what commands would you give them? You don't remember what you were doing or where you were, were you doing anything? It's so strange, this lingering feeling that you were something, that you had something important. You can't remember anymore. You dangle over something, your heavy limbs swaying with the movement of whatever you're resting on. Chill drags up and down your spine, rucks up your skirt and squeezes your thighs. You shiver, goosebumps prickling over your skin.

Big hands set you down, unspool your unresponsive body down onto its knees. The darkness you'd been carried by crouches down, lets you see its honey eyes behind the bone that rings them. Your eyes close and open, rolling to look around the with each flutter. Your cheeks are pinched. Honey eyes crinkle at the edges. Something taps your forehead, and you feel like you're breaking the water's surface.

"There you are love." The voice fills you like a breath, and the darkness melts, drips off of the figure in front of you. A man. Your man. Your man cups your cheek, strokes his thumb over the skin, smiles at you from behind his mask. You nuzzle into the feeling, he's cold. Is it unusual that he's cold? It nags at you, but you can't remember.

His fingers stay pressed to your forehead, pouring something into you, filling the space between your bones with warmth. You smile at him, your hands folded in your lap as you wait for him to finish, to drag his fingers down your nose and press them against your lips. You part so prettily for him when he does, holding your tongue out to let him slide the leather of his gloves over it. You still feel empty. All the cracks are filled, but the vessel is still waiting. Your vision blurs, your head lolling a little. Your man catches it, hooks his fingers over your teeth with a click of his tongue.

"Fuck," He swears, and you try to swallow some of the drool pooling in your mouth. It doesn't work held open like this. He shakes you a little, pulls your attention back as you try to focus around the creep of this headache. "You can't stay here," He tells you firmly.

"No?" You whine, your hands grasping for his wrist, "Why nah?"

Something creeps under your skin, crawls through your musculature. It squirms. The darkness is back, condensed in his eyes. The house breathes with him, one shallow breath that threatens to swallow you whole. You tip again, something in your head spinning like a top. Your man stands, tips your head, pulling your spine straight as you does. You try to keep your eyes on him, on the static that edges at your vision, his form shakes like it's not sure how to be what it thinks it is.

"Don't have a reason to keep you around." He says plainly. Your heart throbs in your chest, your head hurts. His fingers in your mouth are your only anchor to the world around you.

You try to think of a reason he'd want to keep you. You're- you're- What are you? What skills do you have? What stories can you tell? You're nothing, an empty vessel waiting to be filled. What can you provide to this man to prove your worth?

"You have your body," Something whispers low against your ear, "You are a pretty thing aren't you? Monsters like pretty things."

Your eyes dart to the front of his trousers, the strain of his cock against the fabric is obvious. Drool drips off your lips, and you press your tongue against his gloved fingers to try to catch it. He hums, shakes you slightly. Your body moves for him, empty, easy. You're already on your knees, he put you there, he must be expecting this.

"You haven't even welcomed him home," the whispers coo, "haven't thanked him for taking you."

They're right, you should thank him. You're nothing, it's good that your man found you. You would have been lost without him. You don't even know what's outside the walls of this house! How would you survive without him?

Your hands lift to slide over his thighs, the muscle flexes, thick and corded. You stroke your fingers over him, admiring for a brief moment before a warning growl has your fingers racing to his fly. His cock is so big when you tug it free. It's heavy, and he pulls you by the teeth to look closer. Your fingers wrap around the fat length of him your eyes fixed on this single point in space. He holds you there. The smoke of him fills your nose, the weight of him fills your hand, your head feels fuzzy, your body lax. His fingers leave you, the taste of leather lingering on your tongue. You replace that taste with another, dragging your tongue over his cock.

His body is cool, chilled to something almost lukewarm. There's no pulse, no twitch to his cock (Why would there be? What are you remembering? Who are you remembering? You are nothing, you have nothing, you exist here for him.), there's no indication from the man above you that you're doing what you're meant to, except for the hand that pushes against the back of your head. Guiding. Anchoring. Whispering to you, your head packed with them before it's silent. Again and again, with each bob of your head up and down his length.

You're his.

You've always been his.

You're happier his.

You're so good for him.

You suck him so well.

You'll feel better when this is done.

Up and down, your body moving on instinct, moving without thinking. Your fingers stroke the length you can't swallow, spit slicking their path as you suck and slurp at the cock that bullies its way past your gag reflex. He isn't nice about it forcing your head down, forcing you to take more of him. He guides you as you suck, helping you take more, wiping the tears that streak down your cheeks when you gag. He fills your throat and holds you there, your throat constricting violently around his cock, trying to force him out, until darkness is clouding your vision.

Isn't it nice being useful?

Isn't it nice being loved?

Don't you want him to touch you?

Can't you feel yourself getting wetter with each bob of your head?

You press your thighs together, whine around the length of him as you pull up to lap at the tip. His cock drools on your tongue, and you don't waste a single drop of the pre-come he's leaking. It feels good, like a drop being added to your vessel. The emptiness is cavernous, you hate it.

You'd do anything to fill it.

You will do anything to fill it.

You'll let him fill it.

He'll fill you full of everything you've ever wanted.

You're so loved.

He comes down your throat without warning. Fingers pinch your nose, his hand holding you firmly at the base. You swallow as best you can, swallow until you're sure there's nothing left. It's warm. Your stomach is heavy, and warm. Your skin tingles, something settling over you. The room doesn't pitch anymore. You don't spin. Darkness doesn't fuzz at the edges of your vision. You're settled. Caught.

Loved, the whispers remind you.

Loved then.

Your man tugs you to your feet. He picks you up, bounces you in his arms even when you screech and giggle at him that you're too heavy. He looks so human, blond curls and honey eyes. You smile and cup his cheek, watch him lean into the touch, kiss your thumb with scar bisected lips.

"Welcome home," You tell him, letting him carry you off to the bedroom. It's always nice when your man is home. He takes care of you. He loves you.

"I should be telling you that," He murmurs, laying you on the mattress.

"Why would you tell me that?" You question. That seems silly, you hadn't gone anywhere today. He shakes his head.

"Forget I mentioned it." And you do.

[elysianightsss]

First of all I wanna say a great big thank you to all of you who have supported me and helped me grow with my writing.

This sweet autumn sleepover is in celebration of almost hitting 4K followers

My lovelies, you absolutely spoil me with your asks and your support. This post and this entire blog is 18+.

The sleepover games are:

Kiss, Marry, Kill ~ pick three characters and send them in. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

Or the nsfw version Snog, Marry, Fuck.

-

Drabble me;

Choose the character you want.

The prompt that excites you linked here.

Three specific words you want me to use linked here.

And I’ll come up with a little Drabble to fit your needs. Please specify if you want it to be sfw or nsfw.

Any rambling headcanons you have, whatever lovelies. I’m here to listen and talk.

You just wanna talk? Have that sleepover gossip? Send in an ask💋

-

Starts on Saturday the 7th at 11:45am EST - Ends on Monday the 16th at 11:45am EST.

Send your asks in now babes!

-

Kisses, S.

| Main Masterlist | Limerence | John Price |

[evanescencelovrr]

just imagining johnny texts simon abt something. Simon hardly responds to their group chats because he prefers to stay to himself. you know, typical simon riley. hes nursing a beer on his couch and chilling when his phone keeps buzzing.

annoyed he checks his phone and sees johnny blowing up the groupchat and kyle.

“found ur panties.” Johnny texted and took a picture of simons balaclava thrown on the bed. he left it there from one of their drunk sleepovers.

simon scowls.

he scrolls.

“the man has so many masks, he’ll find a new pair.” kyle wrote with a wink emoji.

simons eye twitches.

he goes to type, fat thumbs moving clumsily on the small screen. “i’ll pick up the baklava tomorrow.”

his phone buzzed immediately.

“baklava?” Johnny repeats.

then he sends an obnoxious voice note laughing loudly, slapping his thigh. at first simon didn’t even know what the hell that note was. he just pressed play.

“BALACLAVA.” simon types in all caps, very annoyed.

[siren-141]

Hi hi! Could we do 777 with Simon Riley pretty please!!

With lots of love!!

-Mika🩷🥭

hey there, I'm so sorry that I'm just now getting around to this 😭😭 thank you so much for the request, I loved writing these. it's super late but this one concludes my summer challenge :) enjoy 🖤

warnings: none really lmao. unrequited love that's not actually unrequited. is this considered fluff?? summer sleepover

bad friends – black honey

It had been a long week. It had been raining, dark grey clouds covering the sky for what felt like the whole week, casting a shadow over the base. Everyone was beat down and the energy was low, everyone tucking themselves away in their own spaces. That’s how you wound up running yourself a piping hot bath, with your favorite eucalyptus candle lit in the corner.

Stepping into the tub, you slowly lowered yourself into the water. You could see the steam coming up from the surface past the bubbles, even in the dim light. This was ultimate relaxation for you – something you didn’t often have time for.

It had been about 15 minutes of relaxation, soft music playing in the background. Your eyes were shut, and all the tension was gone from your body.

“You should really lock your door,” a voice called out in your room. You didn’t even bother to open your eyes, knowing that voice from anywhere.

“I could hear your heavy footsteps down the hall, Simon. Not very Ghost-like when it’s 11pm on a night off.”

You smiled to yourself, taking a relaxing deep breath. Nothing about your team startled you – you were too used to them and their ways, that almost nothing would shock you.

Simon closed – and locked – your main door behind him. Walking around the dimly lit room, he took in the atmosphere. He looked around at the fake ivy plant on top of your dresser and the scattered pictures you had hung up of different landscapes and events you’d gone to, studying your space with a piqued interest. He could hear your phone playing in the bathroom, and took note of what kind of music you liked during a time like this.

“Just came in to check on you. Been kind of an off week for everyone, seems like,” he commented, walking further into your room, admiring the small homemade painting you had hanging near your bathroom door. It was a beautiful landscape, with lush grass and crystal blue skies, the sun filtering throughout the painting. Nothing like the usual scenery that your team was used to, no – something peaceful to look at at the end of each night, something to look forward to. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“‘m fine, just figured I’d take advantage of the night off,” you answered him, and completely instinctually, he looked towards the sound of your voice. That was his mistake.

Your voice drowned out and time seemed to slow for him. Your bathroom door was only cracked about four inches open, but those four inches seemed like the cracked gates of heaven. He looked at you, really looked at you. You laid there in the tub, soap suds covering your body and almost spilling out of the tub, your head leaned back against the shower wall. Your eyes were closed, but you looked utterly at peace. Every expanse of skin that showed through – your shoulder peeking above the tub, your neck that was exposed from your hair being pulled up, the tops of your knees that raised just over the water because the tub was too short, even for you – he committed it all to memory. He could stare at you like this forever: a renaissance painting in his own mind.

“...right?” Time started again at your prompt, and he quickly concentrated on what you had just said. You know you don’t have to check on me, right?

“‘course I do,” he grunted, turning away and shaking his head. “I check on everyone. ‘ts my job.”

Simon Riley, always the caretaker. Ghost might put up a front that he’s ruthless, emotionless, and that he doesn’t care – the first of it true – but Simon was another story. This team relied on trust and empathy for one another, whether it was obvious or not: you couldn’t run if you all hated each other. Each of you had unintentionally carved out a small part of your hearts for one another to fit in, and once you were there, there was next to nothing that could remove it. Simon might have his walls up, armed guards positioned at the top of them ready to shoot at anything that might get too close, but small gestures like this was all that was needed to see that he truly cared.

You sighed, partially from the relaxing scent of your candle drifting your way, and partially from exasperation of the stubborn man in the next room. “You should worry less about us sometimes and focus all that energy on yourself, Si. When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

The question rang in his head and all he could think about was you.

“You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself, big guy.” He sits on your bed, staring at the wall in front of him or looking around the contents of your nightstand – anywhere but through the four-inch crack of your door.

It’s silent for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence. A few minutes go by, and he can hear the water sloshing around before you pull the drain cover and let the water drain out.

You finally make an appearance. Standing in the doorway, you had finally turned the big light on in your bathroom, having gotten dressed in your night clothes. Combing your hair out with your fingers, you looked at him with your eyebrow raised. His big frame sat on your bed, making it look so small, and you could tell he looked tired.

“I meant what I said, Simon. You deserve to take care of yourself.”

Turning around, you walked back into the bathroom, door now swung all the way open. Simon followed, crossing the small space to lean against the door frame. He was so much bigger than you, head almost hitting the top of the frame and shoulders so wide that he took up almost the entire width. He watched as you went through each bottle of your four-step skincare routine, slathering serum onto your face evenly.

He broke the silence.

“You’re beautiful.”

Of course your mind began to race, heart rate picking up immediately. You’d had feelings for the guy for quite a while now, but what would it do to the team dynamic if anyone acted on it? You couldn’t take the risk. That was the excuse you told yourself – you couldn’t risk the team being awkward. In reality? You’d always just shut off that part of you – the part of your brain that would wonder things like when are you going to find someone and imagine your dream man: why does he look just like Simon and do you really want to be alone or are you just telling yourself that

So you do what you always do when situations similar to this come up – you laugh. You play it casual and you laugh it off.

Smile wide, you don’t miss a beat as you continue to stare in your bathroom mirror, rubbing in the face cream as your third step. “My hair is a mess and I’m slugging my face right now, but okay!”

You try not to think about it, thinking that maybe it was just a late night, thinking that he had forgotten about it just as quickly as he had brought it up. You finished slathering the overnight mask onto your face, washed your hands, and as you turn to leave the bathroom without really looking, you bump into him, who didn’t even budge.

His finger gently hooks under your chin, just barely missing the line where your skincare serum starts, and lifts your head.

“I meant what I said,” he holds your eye contact until he can see that you’re fully focused on him now and that your thoughts aren’t racing like they were a minute before. He needs you to be fully present when he talks to you. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breathing is shallow, and you can almost hear your heart beating through your ears; feel the blood pumping a little extra hard throughout your veins. You couldn’t break eye contact right now if you tried – he captivated you, every one of your senses utterly surrounded by him.

He leaned down slowly, bridging the gap between you two, and your eyes closed in nervous anticipation. He was still in that moment, and you could almost feel his lips on yours before he turned his head, pressing a slow and gentle kiss to your cheek. He can hear your small gasp, breath finally finding you again, and he lingers there, eyes closing to remember this moment.

Leaning back, his hand drops back to his side and he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes that have nothing but yearning in them. “I’d better let you get to sleep. Remember to lock your door.”

Simon crosses the room and hears your small goodnight back to him as he pulls the door shut behind him, waiting silently on the other side until he hears the lock click.

That night, you stayed up for another two hours, feeling utterly lovesick. And this time, it felt good.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Mine. || Simon "Ghost" Riley

For @glitterypirateduck's “GhostChallenge” writing challenge! I used the following prompts:

9. Alternate universe 100. You're Price, Gaz, or Soap's sister/brother 12. Brothers best friend trope 71. Reader or Ghost rescues the other from a bad date (but 'bad' is used very loosely) 34. Ghost in gray sweatpants. Just. Gray. Sweatpants. 90. Thigh riding 13. Car sex (also loosely) 48. "Is that the best that you can do?" 99. "You're mine."

Rating: E Words: 3.2k~ CW: smutty, thigh riding, no piv, no kissing, mean!Simon, toxic!Simon, fuck buddy!Simon, jealous!Simon, stalker(ish?)!Simon, possessive behavior. Tags: afab!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, rugby AU, friends with benefits/fuck buddies, unrequited feelings (or are they?), toxic-ish relationship?, lying, manipulation?, secret relationship, brother's best friend, creating/baiting jealousy. Summary: Ghost is a cocky, mean rugby player that you can't help but be pining over. But maybe it's not completely unrequited. OR Simon ruins your date with someone else because he's jealous. a/n: I had a plan. I executed said plan. Profit?

Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.

You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.

This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.

Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.

It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.

Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.

That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.

He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.

Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...

That's what he gets.

Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...

Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.

Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.

Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.

Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.

Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.

Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.

Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.

Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.

You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.

He's getting what he fucking deserves.

You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.

On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...

There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...

Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.

Really? Now? You don't think so.

So, you hang up.

Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.

Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"

"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."

You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.

"I don't think so."

"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."

Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.

"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.

"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."

With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."

Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.

"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."

"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."

"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."

And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.

As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.

You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."

"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"

"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."

"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"

Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.

Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.

"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.

"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.

"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."

Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.

You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.

"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."

Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.

"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.

You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.

"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.

Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...

You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...

And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.

"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."

"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.

You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.

"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.

"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.

"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'

"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.

"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.

"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.

His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...

You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.

You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.

"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...

Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."

Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.

Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.

"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.

"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?

"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.

"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.

There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.

"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.

"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...

"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.

"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.

After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.

His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.

"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.

"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.

"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.

"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."

"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.

"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."

Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.

His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.

His girl is so obedient.

[ Ghost Challenge Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[kitkatscabinet]

Always been you

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! childhood friend reader

Summary: From the moment you first smiled at him as children Simon knew it would always be you.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some nsfw content so minors keep scrolling

It starts like this, he’s 9 years old feet listlessly guiding himself to the rundown park desperate to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the oppressive confines of home. The weather, as was typical of Manchester, wasn’t exactly cooperating. A dreary grey drizzle that served to keep most of the general populace indoors. Few parents were willing to stand outside and supervise their rowdy children. 

That’s not to say the area was completely devoid of activity and for a while Simon was content to sit idly on the swing set and people watch. Trying desperately to ignore the clench in his chest and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he watched the loving interactions between child and parent. Bitterness and wanting in equal parts threatened to consume him. 

A voice from the side quickly pulls him from the harrowing thoughts, though he quickly thinks maybe they’d be easier to deal with. It’s a boy, around his age, maybe a little older and he’s boring like Simon’s deeply offended him. 

“Get off the swing, I want a turn.” The demand leaves Simon more than a little flabbergasted. Apparently, he takes too long to not follow the sudden command as the boy's face twists in even more displeasure. 

“I said, move!” He’s taller, and maybe it's because Simon had already been scared by Tommy that morning but he freezes. 

Or maybe it’s just because he’s pathetic, his father’s voice whispers traitorously in his mind. 

Thankfully, the thought doesn’t get to stick around for long as a new voice enters the fray. “Hey! Fuck off!” Both boys whirl around with wide eyes at the newcomer, neither sure how to respond to the loudly swearing girl. However, when the boy responds with what Simon assumes to be your name it becomes clear that you already know each other. 

“I don’t have to listen a girl.” That proves to be exactly the wrong thing to say, Righteous indignation lights up your face and before Simon can even blink the would-be bully is on the ground, clutching his nose with a cry. You’d punched him, hard enough that Simon could see the blood spilling out from over the crying boy’s hands and down his chin. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Simon had let you pull on his hand, keeping it in a deceptively strong grip as you marched the two of them away. When you make it far enough from the crime scene you turn to him with a toothy grin, introducing yourself and promptly claiming the title of his new best friend. 

It’s not quite love at first sight, but years down the line Simon will recognise it as something close. 

The fourth time you meet at the park, not even two weeks from the initial greeting, you ask after his parents. It wasn’t unusual that Simon didn’t talk much, content to listen to you chatter away but you must have noticed something different in that instance of silence. You were alarmingly perceptive like that when it came to him, your eyes feeling as if they were staring directly into his soul, seeing all the shattered hurt he tried to hide. Nodding to yourself you grabbed his hand, an occurrence that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet - your gentle touch, and tugged him along. You walk him all the way to your house, open the door with an excited bang and march straight up to your parents. 

“This is my best friend, Simon, he’s gonna sleep over tonight!” Your parents are rightfully not amused but their protests quickly die down. He has no idea what convinced them in the end, but from then on he’d somehow become a permanent fixture in your home. Dinners became a regular thing which often became sleepovers as you attempted to keep him out of the house that had caused him so much fear and pain. It was about as subtle as a brick to the face but Simon never complained, especially if it meant you’d pull him into your bed as often as possible to sleep. 

He hadn’t minded the first two ‘boyfriends’, they had been nothing serious, silly childhood infatuations. Because at the end of the day, it was always him that you returned to. Crawling through his window late at night and pouting that you couldn’t sleep without your favourite pillow, because somehow, despite his protests you always wrestled him into being the little spoon. 

No, it isn’t until he’s 17 and more than aware of how painfully in love with you he is that the boyfriends finally become a problem. Simon wasn’t a violent person, didn’t want to be, not like his father was. But as he holds you in his arms after you’d climbed through the window in tears, cuddling up to him under the blanket covering his bed that he swears for the first time in his life he could kill somebody. He offers too, you simply laugh and tell him he’s the best friend you could ever have. You think he’s joking, Simon’s not entirely sure he is. 

You’re his first kiss, something that had only occurred at your aghast knowledge that he’d never kissed anyone at all. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, you’re the only person he ever lets near him let alone touch him. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life because now he actually knows what it feels like to kiss you. Knows that nobody will ever live up to you. 

It’s then he realises that you’re his first everything really, first friend, first crush, first and only love. 

He reads some of your smutty books, the ones you giggle at, a secret he’ll take to the grave, just to learn what you like. It comes about after a drunken confession on your part, liquor loosening your lips just a tad too much as you detail how much your last boyfriend sucked in bed. It’s a mistake, because now every time he looks at you he can’t help but imagine the way you’d taste. How you’d sound begging so prettily for him. 

His decision to join the military was not made lightly, you’d gotten accepted into some fancy university and it’s then Simon starts to realise just how much his entire life has started to revolve around you. As much as he wants to follow, he knows that life isn’t for him, and he knows how much you want him to flourish in whatever path he chooses. 

Training isn’t easy, but it’s far from the hardest thing he’d ever done. That title was reserved for telling you about his chosen career path. 

“Promise me you’ll always come back home to me” you demand, parting just slightly from your hug to look into his eyes. Simon knows he shouldn’t, after all there’s never any guarantee that he will, but as has been the case since you were both 12 he can’t bare to say no to you. 

“I promise love” it’s barely a whisper but you still hear it, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt starting to shake a little. 

He wants to kiss you, he always does, but standing before him now, eyes glassy from the tears you’re trying to hold back, Simon swears you’ve never looked more ethereal. As much as he wants to lean down and finally taste your lips he doesn’t, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you or to him, so instead he presses a soft kiss to your hairline, keeping you held tightly against him. 

You send him more care packages than he can count, photos, letters and little trinkets he kept tucked safely away in his bunk or on his person when he could get away with it. He gets teased for it but Simon couldn’t give less of a fuck about their poorly hidden jealousy, not when you cared for him so deeply. Not when he gets to fall asleep with your words in his head and faint scent rubbing off on him. 

He’d thought that perhaps the distance would do him some good, would finally douse the blazing flames of his love for you. He really should have known better because as the day's drone on you start to consume his every thought both waking and asleep. His life becomes a series of training and missions that only serve as a way to pass the time until he gets to see you again. Because no matter how much blood stains his hands he knows you’ll always be there to wash it away. He’s aware how selfish it is, to place the brunt of his longing and emotional baggage that only continues to grow in your careful hands, but Simon’s never claimed to be a good man. 

Some of the darkness slips out one night, after his brother's wedding, after the revelry had died down and it was just the two of you lying on the grass and looking up at the stars at your insistence. He’ll forever blame it on the alcohol, descriptions of the violence he’d tried so desperately to keep from you pouring from his lips in confession. He can’t bear to look at you, heart roaring in his ears as he waits for the moment you’ll run, the moment you’ll finally realise what a monster he is. That moment never comes, instead, you ensnare him in your protective grip, hands cradling him far more softly than he deserves. It’s that moment that finally cements the fact that you’re never leaving in his mind. You’re never leaving so it’s up to him to pull away before he tarnishes your light, but Simon is weak and so he stays. 

It happens after his third tour, the one where he’d had too close a call, the one he’d thought for a few moments he wasn’t coming home from. In those moments he’d thought of you, of your smile and god he regretted. He regretted never telling you how he felt. 

It feels like he’s barely off the plane, eyes searching desperately for you before he hears the shout of his name. He spins just in time for you to launch yourself at his chest, gripping desperately onto him. You’ve always tried to keep your affection for him private, knowing he wasn’t entirely comfortable with people staring. Neither of you cared in that moment though and Simon’s already dropped his bags, engulfing you in a near-crushing grip. 

It’s an eternity before you pull away, but it’s still too soon. He briefly glimpses the tears in your eyes before he leans down and kisses you. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, but he doesn’t really care to listen. At first, you don’t respond and Simon finally panics as the consequences of his actions set in. You don’t give him the chance to run away though, hands grasping his face and keeping him in place. 

When you pull away you don’t say anything, simply taking his hand in yours and tugging him out to your car. The drive to your apartment is silent, but not uncomfortable. It isn’t until you’ve pulled him into your bed, in a mirror image of your younger years that you finally break the silence. 

“I never thought you felt the same.” The same? The implications of your words seared into the forefront of his mind. 

“Silly girl, why would I ever even look at somebody else when you exist?” You let out an adorably embarrassed squawk at his words, lightly hitting him on the chest as you bury your burning face against his neck.“It’s always been you” he murmurs, the confession settling over you like a wave. 

For a split second, he fears your relapse into silence means he’d pushed too far too fast. Years of pining bubbling up and over the surface at the slightest bit of reciprocation. You’re quick to shut down his internal spiral with another earth-shattering kiss, pulling away and resting your chin on his chest. 

“Yeah, you’ve always been it for me too Si. From the moment I pulled you from that swing." It's a little embarrassing, how fast his heart races at the confession. Tears build in the corners of his eyes as he finally, finally lets himself fully succumb to your love. You're quick to wipe them away though, because you would always take care of your Simon.