Cw: Post Sex Drabble, Naked Bodies

my first playlist after discovering Simon Riley for a day and a half

I feel so called out

Simon Riley’s love is a terrible devotion. Hell maybe even a curse for just how much he loves. He loves with his whole self no matter the pain, you’re burrowed into his chest whether you want to be there or not and he will sew himself up so you can never leave him

Simon Riley knows pain like no other, knows what’s it’s like to take it and give it, and he etched himself into the very being of your life, inescapable, ever present, unending

This man is the threat of love. He will take care of you even when you don’t need it, you don’t want it, and he does so with all that he is, looming over you like the inevitable guillotine. He will love you but he will not do it delicately—if he could swallow you whole, lock you away, take all that you are into him than he would if it meant that you would be forever safe, forever his

His to love, his to adore, his to never leave

Simon riley loves with every bit of his being, even the parts that are broken and fractured and dusty and still buried and he does so like a stray dog that will follow you to the ends of the earth

Thinking about inviting Simon “Ghost” Riley to your house for the first time. You guys hit it off, decide to play a little bit of dirty truth or dare and things escalate.

Simon dares you to; “Show me how you fuck yerself, love.” His eyes half lidded as you shyly guide him towards your bedroom.

You pull out a hairbrush (you’re broke shush) and Simon chuckles, muscular frame climbing the bed to hover over you, lips dangerously close to yours. “Don’t tell me that’s what you stuff inside your needy little cunt?”

Blushing you ask, “W-what’s wrong with it?” Earning you another deep, rumbling chuckle from the man above you. His scarred hand takes the brush, wrapping around the entire thing with a hum.

“This ain’t even half the size of me, love.”

thinking about simon who’s watching you get another drink from the bar, counting the minutes until you return to the booth your team is currently occupying. he swirls the ice in his glass, glancing over every other second just to make sure you’re still within eyesight while he half listens to johnny talk about the most recent Manchester match. it’s already been 3 minutes. what is taking so bloody long?

“I’m pretty sure you’re burning a hole in the back of her head with that stare mate,” kyle says, lightly nudging simon’s shoulder. simon turns to face him, eyebrows knitting together. “m’just making sure she’s alright.”

the corner of kyle’s mouth twitches. “she’s a big girl, isn’t she? seems to be handling herself just fine.”

prick. simon takes a sip of his drink, glaring at him over the glass. he’s fully aware you can handle yourself, he’s seen you drop full grown men to their knees in the field without breaking a sweat. so why does it feel more dangerous to leave you alone in a stupid bar? another quick glance back to the bar reveals you laughing with the bartender, complimenting her hair and enjoying some small talk.

“and simon wants to handle her.” johnny’s words came out slow and a bit slurred, proof that he’d probably had one too many. if he’d been a little less intoxicated simon would’ve shoved him out of the booth. “looks like someone else does too,” kyle mumbled, lifting his glass and looking back in the direction of the bar. simon swears he feels his neck crack at the speed he turns to look.

who the fuck is that?

there's a tall blonde man standing close – too close – to you at the bar. toothpaste commercial smile, wavy hair…and hands that are way too antsy for simon’s taste. the way they move back and forth in the space between the two of you, resting on the bar next to your arm. there’s no need for him to get so close. simon ignores the bubbling pit of annoyance growing in his stomach – and johnny’s childish ‘oooh’ as he turns back to the table. “good for him.”

kyle lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looks down at the empty glass in his hands. “you're one stubborn git, I’ll tell ya.” placing the glass back down on the table, he looks back up at his masked friend. “you know, if I felt the way you do about her, she would’ve been mine a long time ago.”

simon’s eyes narrow into a glare. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“means exactly what I said.” he shrugs. “you want her so fucking bad, go get her. I wouldn’t let anything stop me if I was you.”

simon scoffs. if only it was that simple. there was no room for error with you. letting you in was a gamble in itself, and now…losing you was simply not an option. he’d managed to convince himself that it wouldn’t be possible to get attached, that being friendly was for the team’s sake. it definitely wasn’t because he was tired of only seeing you in flashes during dreams. and it absolutely was not because he found himself leaving every interaction with you feeling lighter. happier, almost.

“things are best as they are.” his answer was low, but kyle didn’t miss the tinge of sadness to his words.

“does she feel that way? did you ever bother to ask her? because I think if you did, she mi-“

“oh, shit.” johnny’s tone has considerably sobered as he looks past his friends at the bar where you stand. “she does not look happy.”

understatement of the century, simon thought as he turned back to you. hands on your hips, a scowl gracing your features. he swears he’s never seen someone look so angry and so beautiful at the same time. you’re glaring up at the prick with the pepsodent smile, spitting what looks to be venom at him while he looks down his nose at you condescendingly. if simon wasn’t overcome with irritation for whatever he’d done to piss you off, he would’ve enjoyed the sight. his little spitfire.

his. he needs to stop using that word when it comes to you. too dangerous to get used to.

she can handle it repeats in his head like a prayer. every muscle aches to run over and toss the man on the floor, not even stopping to find out what he had done to piss you off first, but he squeezes his glass to placate himself. she’s a big girl, like kyle said. a task force solider. if she needs help, she –

simon’s on his feet within seconds of your panicked gaze meeting his. there's something in your eyes, a look he’s ever seen before and is already planning on never seeing again. he barrels his way across the room as people part like the red sea, leading a path right to where you stand. the man has stepped closer to you, a slimy look on his face as he leers down at you. he may be tall, but simon towers over him as he steps up behind him, fists clenched. “oi.”

the man, who simon has decided is called dickhead, turns lazily to face him. his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the mountain of a man hovering behind him but he quickly masks it, trying his best to look bored.

“the fuck are you doing bothering my girl?”

dickhead has the balls to roll his eyes. simon imagines all the ways he could cut them out.

“i told you I have a boyfriend,” you snap. simon is pleasantly surprised by this, although what else does he expect? you obviously wanted this man to leave you alone, and that should have given him reason enough to do so. should have. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“not so tough now that he’s not sitting all the way over there now, huh?”

simon nearly falls over. you told this guy that he was your boyfriend? he blinks once at you before he realizes that it’s not the time to digest this information. dickhead is still here and vertical, and that’s a problem. perhaps it’s the rounds of whiskey johnny kept talking him into, but something primal switches on when simon falls into the persona you’ve just created for him. the idea of you being his, needing him flooded his thoughts. dickhead must’ve seen the murderous expression slip onto his face just like one of his masks because the color drains from his face. simon’s voice lowers to a dangerous level.

“speak to her again and see how long you live. now walk away.”

a smart choice, simon hums to himself as dickhead scurries away looking slightly green. he has no idea how smart. simon snaps out of his musings as a hand softly rests on his forearm. wide, grateful eyes stare back up at him as he allows himself to take in current situation. “thank you so much simon, he was such a fucking creep. started asking me shit about my underwear and wouldn’t let me past him.”

“he’s lucky I didn’t know that before I let him go.” he’ll be less lucky later on. simon has a new errand to run, but that can wait until after you’re finished holding his arm and staring up at him like he hung the moon.

“so. when were you gonna tell me we were an item?” the joke tumbles out before he has time to think about it. by the look on your face, you're not about to take off running, so he continues. “y’should probably keep me in the loop about things like that, hm?” he braces himself for the what he thinks is the inevitable – I was only joking, simon…yeah, as if…I know, could you ever imagine that?

instead, the giggle that he receives in response makes his heart swell. laughter shouldn’t sound so musical and delicate. and it definitely shouldn’t come from a girl as beautiful as you when you're laughing. somehow, the fact that its him you're laughing at makes it sound even better. in that moment, simon’s hit with the bone chilling realization that he is fucked. so fucked it’s not even funny. the hours spent building his walls up just for you to tear them down again with a simple good morning, simon had been for nothing, because there was no running from this. and this is why he allows himself to wrap an arm around your waist as you formulate your reply.

if his show of affection takes you by surprise it doesn’t show. instead, you take a step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his side as he pulls you to him. “seems like you were in the loop just fine, riley. after all, I'm ‘your girl’, right?” he wishes he could kiss you, press you back against the bar because yes, you are his girl, and to hear it in that teasing tone of voice is driving him to madness. he’s almost sure you know what you're doing, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes. it’s not fair to look at him like that, not if you don’t mean it. and simon isn’t 100% sure, but –

“I’m gonna put that on my resume. ‘simon riley’s girl’,” you chirp as you drag him back to your booth. simon smiles. he can settle for 99.9%.

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head all day enjoy <33

yes i'm normal about him. i need to gnaw on him like a no. 2 pencil

Y/N: I cant believe we're locked in this room together Ghost, throwing the key out of the window: Truly unfortunate

let's fall in love so we can fuck properly

All 13 full moons of 2023

More Simon who doesn’t like being touched but he slowly becomes more affectionate, he seems more willing to bare himself to you, he has a hand on your shoulder blade, it’s very platonic touching, but considering it’s Simon, it’s the equivalent of a French kiss.

Simon rarely kisses you, but you’ve notice that whenever you’re sitting on a counter, he dips his head slightly, temple near your lips. “Where’s my kiss?” He’ll say gruffly.

You smile and press your lips against his hair. “Need ta wash your hair.”

“You do it.” He grumbles.

He loves it, being babied by his girlfriend in a platonic way, you’ve seen each other but never in a sexual way, which he appreciates but you’ve been very strict that nothing would happen until after marriage.

He learns to be vulnerable with you. It actually heals that part of him that he pushed aside thinking he was shameful and dirty for being sexually assaulted but he’s not.

And you handle him carefully. He’s like fractured glass that you’ve remelted and then slowly moulded into a man who is loved. And he is.

You don’t say it. Never wanting to saying first. You show it. Being together for almost two years throughout deployments and such and coming and goings you strive to be there for him. He does the same for you.

“Thanks lovie.” He says as you’re both in bed. You preen under the nickname, snuggling close to him, smiling to yourself. You think that’s the closest you’re going to get to an ‘I love you’. And that’s fine. Simon Riley shows love differently but he does it so there is no doubt in your mind.