The Ghost Writer

Simon felt filty. Utterly disgusting, as he slowly kneeled right in front of the laundry basket that is filled to the brim, your short, cute sports wear just within an arm reach.

You had just taken a shower, would probably let him smear his face all over your hot and wet body if he had asked nicely, but Simon knows better than that, it would be embarrassing for the both of you, right? Maybe he'd make you uncomfortable and you'd get the ick, making things awkward.

So yeah, sneaking around to take a quick sniff without you noticing could be justified.

He keeps his head in an angle to be able to glance around if needed, on alert as if on a mission, the absurdity of it all almost makes him scoff. His giant hands reach down to grab your shorts and quickly press it to his crooked nose, his white lashes fluttering and eyes nearly rolling back in response.

Simon bites down on his lower lip, cock stirring in his sweatpants as he keeps inhaling your scent like a mutt, the bright shade of red on his ears spreading to his cheeks by the time his tongue peeks out to have a taste. He bucks into nothing, humping the air until his brain gets enough oxygen to drop one hand down and squeeze around his hard cock.

You look for him around the house, only to find him on his knees, smelling your dirty clothes. Your boyfriend almost cries after getting caught, you've never seen his face so red, trying to hide what he's been up to.

he’s lying, red is his colour

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Simon Riley was a terrifying man to most people.

Six foot somethin’, broad as a doorframe, tattooed arms, permanent frown carved into his face like stone. The kind of man who could walk into a room and make conversations die mid-sentence.

Which was exactly why the bright pink lunchbox sitting on the briefing table looked so absurd.

Soap stared at it.

Then at Simon.

Then back at the lunchbox covered in tiny white hearts.

“…That yours, LT?”

Simon didn’t even glance up from cleaning his sidearm. “Obviously.”

Gaz coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Price suddenly found the paperwork in his hands very interesting. Soap, unfortunately, feared nothing.

“Christ alive.” he muttered, lifting the lunchbox by two fingers. “It’s got a bow on it.”

Simon’s eyes lifted slowly.

Dangerously.

Soap set it back down immediately. The room went quiet for all of three seconds before Gaz spotted the sticky note attached to the handle.

Pink ink. Curly handwriting.

Don’t forget to actually eat today. I mean it!— ♡

There was even a lipstick kiss pressed onto the corner. Soap made a strangled noise. “SHE LEFT YE A WEE KISS MARK.”

Simon took the note off carefully before Soap could touch it with his grubby hands. He folded it once and tucked it into the pocket of his vest with complete seriousness, like it was something precious.

Because it was.

“You keep those?” Gaz asked before he could stop himself. Simon gave him a look that practically said watch your mouth.

“Aye.”

The boys exchanged glances.

Not because Simon had a partner. They all knew that. And not because Simon was soft with you. They knew that too. It was the fact he never acted embarrassed about it.

Ever.

Didn’t hide the matching pink phone charger you bought him because he “always stole yours anyway.” Didn’t complain when you painted tiny strawberries on his phone case. Didn’t care that his keys now had fluffy pink pompoms hanging off them because you’d smiled so proudly while showing him. The man simply accepted every little piece of you with both hands.

Like loving you loudly was the easiest thing in the world.

Later that afternoon, Simon finally opened the lunchbox during break. Inside was organized chaos. Pink Tupperware containers stacked perfectly. Heart-shaped strawberries. A sandwich cut neatly in half. Little notes tucked everywhere.

One on the drink—

Hydrate or I’ll become evil.

One on the fruit—

You’re handsome. That’s unrelated, I just thought you should know.

And one folded beneath the sandwich.

Simon opened it quietly.

Miss you already. Come home safe so I can kiss you properly instead of leaving lipstick on paper.

His eyes softened instantly.

Not dramatic.

Not obvious.

Just enough that Price noticed from across the room and looked away to give the man some privacy. Soap, however, leaned over his shoulder with zero survival instinct.

“Awwww—”

Simon shoved him back without heat.

“Piss off.”

But there was no bite to it.

Soap grinned. “Ye love that shite.”

Simon took another bite of his sandwich.

“Aye.” he answered simply.

No hesitation.

No shame.

Just certainty.

Because you loved pink things. Cute things. Soft things.

And Simon loved you.

Which meant he loved those things too.

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She then proceeded to encourage the chaos.

Redraw of my most popular art piece ever because GUYS STOP SHARING THE OLD ONE IT LOOKS BADDDD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'm so tired of seeing it everywhere, post this one instead.

Old art from last year below ↓

Happy Metal Motivation Monday! Seize the day with a hungry grin! XD