This Is Literally My First Time Being On Earth

MDNI 18+

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley getting the love he deserves after being a loner and thinking that he was unlovable.

cw: fluff, broken simon, vaginal sex, not proof read

he was too scarred, experienced the cruelest of things in mankind after being in the military and now he was a nobody. living in a shady apartment that coincidentally had its heating broken during the winter, only having cold water running in the shower, and just having an apartment that was plain and dull. his whole life simon was convinced that he didn’t deserve anything, hence why he joined the military, to deprive himself from anything that could potentially give him happiness.

so, he had an old couch that was so damn firm he got back pain whenever he laid on it. a flimsy bed that barely fits his large frame, his legs dangling off slightly as he tried to keep himself warm in the harsh winter with the thinnest blanket ever. oh, and he didn’t take care of himself, grabbing the reheat-able meals and ramen from the convenience store after his late night shifts.

that was until he met you, his sweet little birdie that made him feel just a little warm and fuzzier inside. he was accustomed to the usual sympathetic looks on the streets, the weak smile the cashier gave him whenever he bought another bowl of ramen. but you? you didn’t care that he was broken, you viewed him as an equal.

his sweet neighbour that cooked him homemade meals for him, made him his lunch for work that made his co workers jealous and shocked at the sudden sight of simon eating a filling meal.

“where’d ya get that meal from? looks homemade,” his coworker grumbled eyeing the container in his hands. simon muttered a half ass response, he was going to keep you a secret from these dirty men.

he tried to ignore the way his heart rate increased just the slightest when he read your little notes plastered on the container, small words of encouragement as if you knew what he was currently thinking.

slowly you embedded yourself into his daily routine, inviting him for dinner as you cooked his favourite meal, whilst he fixed your table. it was something more than transactional, but neither of you spoke on it, especially simon, he didn’t want to ruin the one good thing that he had in his life.

but deep down he was secretly wondering when you were going to leave, after all - all the good things in his life seemed to go away eventually.

you didn’t though, instead you showed him things that he never thought was possible. self love, though he was dork new to it, he couldn’t help but to feel just a little more confident in himself. the way you were perched up on the tiny bathroom counter gently shaving his face whilst whispering words of affection, or the way you kissed every single one of his scars.

then came the most intimate moment of his life - sex. it wasn’t just something that was done and dusted, no. it was a ritual for the two of you. the sheets rustling as simon kissed your neck, your legs wrapped around his waist as if you wanted him closer, even though it was physically impossible. he refused to make you feel like a conquest, making you come multiple times before cleaning you up and making you your favourite meal.

the change wasn’t internal only, his apartment seemed to reflect the blooming relationship between the two of you. his old beaten up couch all new and replaced because he couldn’t stand the idea of you being uncomfortable whilst watching your favourite show. adding more shelves and storage to his bathroom as you slowly moved in, your toothbrush on the bathroom counter, your pink hair dryer on the shelf and a random vase of flowers.

simon never expected a simple domestic life with a lover, but here he was. lazy morning sex with hushed whispers and basking in each others warmth, trying to ignore the demands of the outside world. cooking breakfast together as simon wrapped his arms around your waist. kissing each other goodbye as you two left for work, your hands brushing against each other one last time.

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

cold evening

they need to invent somewhere where I belong

afab!reader

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

butcher simon this, butcher simon that, but how about simon who shows up to the dog shelter every month with a couple hefty bags of high-end dog food and a baggy of toys because he’d rather his retirement paychecks go toward something more meaningful than bourbon and cigarettes.

or simon who sits in the kennels with the most misunderstood dogs at the shelter for as long as it takes for them to warm up to him, though it never takes long—there’s just something about him that draws the sweet angels in.

i KNEW when he said ‘not today’ and then we cut to the wedding i– *screams*

in case you’re like me and needed this more than you knew — i love you <3